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Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.
martes 06/01/2004
Back in the day when determining a guy�s sexual orientation was as simple as asking him which band did he like better, Depeche Mode or Erasure?
(An entry for those of a certain age)My parents did not have cable, so my primary exposure as a teenager to that new fangled form of entertainment known as the music video was not MTV, but rather the occasional late night video show. These programs were produced on the cheap, not bothering to hire VJ�s, or even voice over announcers, merely showing generally older and presumably inexpensive videos. Seeing Thriller at a friends house one afternoon, well after everyone else I knew did nothing to help my miniscule popularity, but then again, even if I had, I still would have been a geek.
Not having the correct TV apparently limited me, but I did have a radio, and was part of the teen crowd loyal to KROQ and their New Wave format, although maybe not so loyal, since I also did, and still do like Ska. Even worse, a few years later in college I discovered that in fact, Disco did not suck. What I mistook for vapid noise was instead energetic and aggressively sensual music.
I did not attend a John Hughes fantasy high school. Instead of an improbable all white school with money ruled by the sharp division of cliques based on social class backed by a New Wave soundtrack, I went to an under funded public school, where the primarily nonwhite student body was largely divided into assorted cliques based on interests and race, and music ranged from Rock to R&B, and even occasionally to that wussy New Wave stuff. When I was a student, none of the school dances played New Wave music because administrators were convinced so few students would attend that they would loose money.
Had Molly Ringwald gone to my school, her dramatic entrance to the prom would have been to a mainstream �Top 40� rock and roll beat. The only reason anyone would have noticed her would not have been for her self-made dress, or lack of social standing, but because she would have been one of two or three girls attending with naturally red hair. She may have still met up with the love of her life that night, but if the requirement were that he be well known and popular, instead of rich white boy, she would have hooked up with a middle-class, 230 pound, Samoan football player named Malosi �Little Mike� Matautia.
And Ducky, little Ducky would not have even bothered going to prom in the first place, but would have spent the night with his secret Mexican boyfriend Ernesto, glad for the opportunity to not have to pretend to be in love with a girl.
Real world High School is somewhat different movie world High School. People aren�t as attractive and the lighting is not as good, but the plot tends to be far more interesting.
There is no real point to this other than I bought a used Erasure DVD music video collection last month and working through it has put me in a nostalgic mood. The older songs of the collection succeeded in bringing back memories, all to a pop soundtrack.
Most vivid memory was of a college party where when Drama started playing, some friends of mine, a young sporty, dyke, Christian couple, started singing along at the top of their lungs, howling out ��GOD only KNOWS the infinite complexities of LOOAAOOUUAAOOUUVE!�
It was exciting when I first heard that Andy Bell was openly gay. Openly gay musicians are still not too common now, and were fairly rare back then. It was cool to know that we really were everywhere, but it also made for some odd times for a closeted kid.
Once my mother came into the living room while I was watching a random video show airing the video for Who needs love like that. This cinematic short features Andy Bell as both a nonmacho cowboy, and as the woman he fails to save and woo. Immediately afterwards, the program aired another one with Vince Clark sporting a bright pink valentine on his face, and a high heel wearing Mr. Bell as a lost astronaut in love with his dog. I don�t think my mom realized what I was watching. If she had, it would have no doubt started a variation of the argument we had the first time she saw a Culture Club video. Like many a mother in the early eighties fearful about her son�s apparent lack of interest in girls, she loathed Boy George.
Working through the collection reminded me that Andy Bell looked good whenever he let his hair grow out, even if he occasionally went the Squigy route in oiling the hair back (as in the video for Love to hate you). I had also forgotten that he makes for a terrible looking drag queen. Few men can manage to look more large, manly, and masculine when done up in makeup and a dress, but somehow he does it with ease.
The DVD was a frivolous purchase, but I�ve been enjoying it. If nothing else, thanks to one of the interviews included in the extra features, I may finally know the answer to long answered question of mine, mainly just what the heck do the lyrics to Blue Savannah Song mean? I never did understand lines like:�Blue Savannah, Blue Savannah song, Oh blue Savannah song.� From a question regarding their method of writing songs, there may be nothing to understand, it just sounds good.
To make matters worse, I also recently bought a Pet Shop Boys DVD music video collection. I watched some of the videos this weekend and there are more memories. Domino Dancing will always take me straight back to Rage in West Hollywood. I was on a day long date with my then brand new boyfriend (now ex). I remember dancing to the song, looking up and watching two young Latin guys fight in the surf on the various TV monitors spread throughout the club. It was one of the most homoerotic things I had ever seen. I also remember realizing that men were actually looking at me that night. The ex and I hadn�t planned on going dancing, and I was dressed for a day at the beach. The lack of extensive clothing made me much more popular than normal. It was a novel experience.
Pet Shop Boys songs and videos were a backdrop to many a gay boy party and many a queer event that I attended over the years, because even though they toyed with being coy about their sexuality, many a gay man never the less loved their music. However, not everything about the collection was nostalgia for me. I had never seen the video for Panimero �95, and despite not having been a fan of the song when it first came out; the sight of hunky, shirtless men dancing and grinding on each other in the background of the video has made me reconsider my position.
The DVD has an audio comment track, which sounds a bit pompous for mere music videos, but it may just be the best thing about the disk. Listening to Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe mercilessly trash videos they hate, and hearing them laugh hysterically at the sight of themselves trying to dance is proving to be well worth the price of the disk.
I own a David Bowie DVD collection of music videos as well, but it�s not quite the same. Golden Years, Young American, Fashion, Space Oddity, and other favorites of mine are all good songs, and much of the imagery is interesting, but for me they don�t conjure up memories of desire recognized, sweet aching hesitation, flirtation, the taste of freedom, first loves, first times, energetic fun, and the open unending possibilities the future holds for the young.
Sometimes I think it would be nice to be young again, but well, perhaps it�s better to just remember.
nico
oyendo: Bronski Beat, Age of Consent appropriately enough