Ah, the rock-n-roll look. Kind of a young man - or woman's game really. I mean we all get older, God willing, and things change along the way. It's natural, unless maybe you're part of the Hollywood elite and a-listers who have plastic surgeons on speed dial - then again, in this day and age, isn't everyone on speed dial?
The rock-n-roll look is an odd pursuit, for some, it may be more effort than it should be - but I don't wanna judge anyone. When I played in rock bands, I didn't put much effort into the look, but I knew guys - and girls, who did. I just wanted to play music. I can't speak for others. A woman who sang in a band that was a large part of the Akron music scene had a quote years afterward that struck me:
I want to play folk music at this point on - because you can age gracefully.
I'm neither agreeing with that statement, or arguing it. I say that because music itself is probably the one thing that ages gracefully, and that doesn't have much to do with the genre of it. I say that because music I like is timeless. When I like it, and listen to it - and I do a lot of this, I don't give a rat's ass how old the song is. I couldn't stop this if I wanted to - and I don't. I can say that I do give thought to just when I might want to stop it - will I still listen to the Replacements if I hit 80? Should I? Pardon my proverbial French here people, but if I make it to 80 and I still have the hearing for it, I think I should listen to whatever the fuck I want to hear. Don't be an F-bomb hater, sometimes it's appropriate.
The look of rock-n-roll doesn't come easy from 40 on - and that's what seems a bit ridiculous. I'm not judging anyone, I'm just saying that from 40 on, it's a rather serious effort. Cool doesn't come easy in middle age, particularly looking cool. Perhaps one of the best illustrations of how ridiculous rock-n-roll can look from around 40 and on, is a movie that Sean Penn starred in, This Must Be The Place. Nails it - better than I can describe it. When I think of a later photo of a glam rocker that I won't name, Penn's performance is even stronger.
The look of rock-n-roll becomes unnatural at some point. I hate to bring color into it, but there does seem to be something unnatural about a guy having more highlights and color in his hair - or what's left of it, than women do. Are any of us, rock-n-rollers or any other walk of people, immune from hair turning gray? Doubtful. I mean at some point, trying to banish gray in favor of hair color of youthful adults, would seem to become a bit like trying to make a sunny day using heat lamps. There's bound to be nooks and crannies that are keeping a much cooler temperature. Fine, as long as they're not exposed. At some point the carpet and the drapes....well, you know.
Never mind appearances for the moment - let's talk comfort. I'll start at the bottom - shoes. I don't buy cheap shoes, and I don't like uncomfortable shoes, and comfort is vital these days when it comes to shoes. Let me just say that shoes that any of us who have passed certain mile markers in life once wore in younger days, are not so comfortable now. I mean seriously not comfortable now. Here is one example of my own experience that I'll offer up:
The Onitsuka Tiger Corsair athletic shoe. As a younger man in my 20's, I owned probably half a dozen pairs of this particular model of shoe. Loved 'em. Onitsuka became Asics and they stopped making the Corsair. Earlier this Summer, I found this beloved shoe of my youth, available online. Hot damn....wait a minute, they changed the color scheme of the stripes. Small matter, these were my shoes, I wanted another pair - so I bought 'em. They're not the same. They look different due to the color scheme of the stripes, and while I can live with that, my feet hurt when I wear them for extended periods of time - and I wore them to this show. Bad call for my tootsies. I lived, but bad call.
My point? Comfort. I'll admit I need some sole on my shoes these days - and I'll say that I can't be the only person who has passed certain mile markers to feel that way. Some of those rock-n-roll shoes are cruel. Cruel shoes. Self-inflicted footwear punishment. When it comes to footwear, most of us are at least a little masochistic sometimes. Women take top prize here, because they've been sacrificing comfort for visual appeal for eons - and there's no end in sight. They're not just doing it for us males, and please don't try to argue this point, okay? Just recognize it and accept it.
Socks are inconsequential - having little bearing on overall comfort. There isn't a sock made that can compensate for a poor choice in footwear. No one, rock star or normal person, will say something like, "you know these cool shoes normally hurt my feet like a motherfucker, but with these socks, I can wear 'em all day and not feel any pain." Never mind socks.
Pants. I never enlisted in the military - or so I thought. Somewhere around the 30 or 40 mile marker on the highway of life, I find out that I did enlist in the battle of the bulge. Waistline. Oh you can pack, or suck that shit in - but it's far from effortless. There's no halfway point here people - you do one of two things in this battle: a) Fight or b) Give up. I'm not judging, I'm just saying. It's up to you - no one can make that call for you. Bitch all you want, fight or don't fight. Winning means you have to keep fighting, and fighting is not involuntary, like breathing or blinking. You gotta work that shit, there is no won and done. Beer guts have to be beaten into submission - stop and they win. You make the call. What do I mean? Jeezus, figure it out would ya? Skinny, tight, and God forbid, leather pants are uncomfortable from 40 on. "Hey, Bono looks fucking cool in those leather khakis." - Said no one EVER. "Those leopardskin khakis look great on you." - Also said by no one EVER. I'm not judging. I'm just saying.
Do we need to talk about shirts? Not really. Shirts basically get a pass here. Mind you, I'm leaving out any type of girdle, or girdle-like device that makes anyone look as if they've never done battle with their waistline. That's none of my business, but I can tell you from experience that even a moderate beer gut is a beast that can't be restrained for long periods of time. Sooner or later that horse needs outta the stall. Somewhere there's a price to pay. Just saying.
Sport coats and leather jackets - all very well and good. They can defer attention from the beer gut I just talked about - but part of hunting is spotting what you're hunting for when it's trying to hide. Figure that out. I guess I should've mentioned sleeveless shirts and aged tattoos. I have neither. I've had really thin arms my entire life. Sleeveless doesn't bode well for arms like mine. My wrists are so non-substantial that there are probably women's watches that would look like a flippin' alarm clock on my wrist. I'm over it. Tattos? Let's assume I could think of something I'd want inked on my thin arms. I don't have a lot of options. By options, I mean room. Space. Very narrow blank canvas. A pencil maybe, rope perhaps, string...or thread maybe...sure, but how cool is any of that? Dig:
Friend: Dude! Did you get inked?
Me: Hell yeah I did!
Friend: Where?
Me: On my arm...
At this point, I roll up my sleeve to expose an expertly rendered #2 pencil, which starts on my upper arm at shoulder level, traveling down past my elbow and stopping in a perfectly sharpened, ready for an exam point, just shy of my wrist - because that's about how my forearm tapers down, but only when I'm working out regularly. What's really fucking cool about this tattoo, and makes it rock so fucking hard, is that when I bend my elbow, my tattoo artist has replicated a pencil break right at my elbow! Wonder how all that would look after more years than I wanna count? Been an ectomorph all of my life. Still am, but I have a stomach that wants to be an endomorph and fights relentlessly for me to let it do that. It kicks my ass after breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. No matter what I do from this point in life on, this fucking bully will never leave me the fuck alone. I'm working on banishing it to a six pack, but even if I succeed, the bully will follow me around and lay in wait for me to let my guard down. This bully will find me alone at some point, for the rest of my days I'll have to live with that fact. I can hit the gym every day from now until the end of time, this asshole has nothing better to do than follow me and wait....
My point is, if I let my guard down, my stomach is the only real place there would be ample room for cool tattoo artwork. I don't even wanna think about that for numerous reasons. Don't make me spell that out. Beer goes well with rock-n-roll, beer guts do not.
Now we're up the neck. Get it? Hair...dyes, colors, styles. I have very limited options when it comes to hair. If hairs on my head were neighbors that I wanted to have anything to do with, most of them have moved and they don't stay in touch. Thanks? I once walked by a table of women that were all within the 40 to 50 mile markers. I overheard one of them say she had zero gray in her hair, it was all still her natural color. The words barely made it out of her mouth and the other women at the table started adding their me too....as my buddy Oscar would say, "My BALLS." In other words, bullshit. I'm not judging, I'm just saying. Look, I once dated a woman whose mother owned a hair salon. She told me once that for every gray hair I pulled out, two would grow back. Fuckin'-A - that's a great deal for a guy with my hairline. That was years ago by the way, and I thought that deal was too good to be true. It was. If natural hair color were gas mileage, eventually even a car with the highest mileage is going to need to hit a gas station. Can I get a witness?
No, I haven't said shit about the Bon Jovi or Justin Bieber sightings at the show, nor have I said much about the music, the band or the show itself yet. Why? Because I'm still leading up to all that with illustrations, metaphors, analogies and the like, to illustrate, among other things, my own frustration with the fact that rock-n-roll can look ridiculous from 40 on. At some point a classic old car will look hideous coming out of the garage without some body work and a paint job. I'm not judging. I'm just saying. Next up, I'll talk a bit about jewelry...and I might just get to the Bon Jovi & Justin Bieber sightings and the music, the band, the show itself. Until then...rock on, good people, rock on.
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