My Secret Dream… To be Glam…
Those of you perceptive enough to notice my fixations on the movies “Velvet Goldmine”, “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” and “Jayne’s Addiction’s ‘The Gift’” might have figured this out by now; I have always secretly fantasized about being a glam rocker. Biology, of course, has had it’s own say in this among other things, since I look like the Marvel villain “The Kingpin” if he was trying to win an Elvis Costello look alike contest, but as long as I can remember I have fantasized about being an androgynous Bowie/Perry Farrell type front-man, being fabulous and having the audience in the palm of my immaculately manicured hand.
In reality I’m a chunky at best, sideman, who’s singing is adequate for an instrumentalist, at best a tiebreaker between me and another bass player who can’t sing at all; and again I’m ugly. This isn’t a pity party at all, I have a lovely wife, a great family (no matter how often I think of strangling the children) this post is about my fantasy of being a glam rock front man which is exactly that-fantasy.
I’m a talented sideman, a finisher of songs not a writer, but a damn good one. We all have our unrealistic desires, this is mine and always has been, and silly as it is that has always been one.
It makes sense really, we all fantasize about the opposite of what we are so it’s no surprise that appeals to me to be the “beautiful man” front man of a band when I look like a squarish block of muscle and fat, probably there are effete thin singers who wish that they were “bruisers” it all evens out in the end. But still, I’d love to be able to squeeze into one of the outfits Johnathan Rhys Myers wore as “Brian Slade” and it not be the height of comedy.