The Bitter Truth is I'm much more of a rock star than you or Michael Buble' will ever be. Let me explain, at least a few times a year I transform myself from cranky middle aged dad into the lead singer of Southern California's best 1980s cover band. Pacmaniac. This weekend I once again donned my flock of seagulls wig, applied copious jelly bracelets, coated my eyes in dark black eyeliner and slipped into something uncomfortable found at a thrift store. This years get up was $12.00 worth of fake leather and an itchy old 3XL blouse. Yes, you read right, blouse. Or top. Very girlie. Very "New Romantic" 1980s.
I then took my place on stage and played new wave hits of the 1980s for a crowd of drunks and friends at a carnival in the coveted 3pm slot, Our band only plays carnivals. That and county fairs and corporate events. And we only play the best music ever made--1980s New Wave. Remember early MTV? Before "Jersey Shore" and "Teen Mom? " When the channel played music videos? Yup, we play "Safety Dance", "Cars" and "Jenny (867-5309)." This year we even tackled "99 Luftbaloons" (in German no less ) and The Buggles Classic "Video Killed The Radio Star." Hundreds of people cheered wildly in between bites of their deep fried food on sticks and snow cones. For 40 glorious minutes I was Bono, or Martin Fry. At the very least Mike Score or Klaus Nomi. After the show people pushed their way back stage to take photos and say hello. It was "Totally Awesome."
Why do I do it. Because I am a rock star. Of at least I've always wanted to be one. And because although not cheap to put my band together, it is more cost effective than signing up for "Rock & Roll Fantasy Camp." That brief moment fulfills my primal need to perform. That's the best feeling ever. The next day is full of other feelings. The kind that hurt. Everywhere. Sore feet. Aching back. My voice sounds like I gargled glass shards. And I make old man noises when I sit down. and when I get up. That's just with rock and roll. I can't imagine if Sex & Drugs were in the mix. My post show ritual is not cocaine and scotch but rather a cocktail of Icy Hot and vitamins. I imagine the Rolling Stones most have similar post show pangs. They do this every night. IMy next show isn't until July 27th at O.C. Fair (shameless plug.) By then I will be better and ready to go at it again. I will rock. Hard. And it will hurt like hell the next day. Or two. Because I'm old and that's The Bitter Truth.
And That's The Bitter Truth.
I then took my place on stage and played new wave hits of the 1980s for a crowd of drunks and friends at a carnival in the coveted 3pm slot, Our band only plays carnivals. That and county fairs and corporate events. And we only play the best music ever made--1980s New Wave. Remember early MTV? Before "Jersey Shore" and "Teen Mom? " When the channel played music videos? Yup, we play "Safety Dance", "Cars" and "Jenny (867-5309)." This year we even tackled "99 Luftbaloons" (in German no less ) and The Buggles Classic "Video Killed The Radio Star." Hundreds of people cheered wildly in between bites of their deep fried food on sticks and snow cones. For 40 glorious minutes I was Bono, or Martin Fry. At the very least Mike Score or Klaus Nomi. After the show people pushed their way back stage to take photos and say hello. It was "Totally Awesome."
Why do I do it. Because I am a rock star. Of at least I've always wanted to be one. And because although not cheap to put my band together, it is more cost effective than signing up for "Rock & Roll Fantasy Camp." That brief moment fulfills my primal need to perform. That's the best feeling ever. The next day is full of other feelings. The kind that hurt. Everywhere. Sore feet. Aching back. My voice sounds like I gargled glass shards. And I make old man noises when I sit down. and when I get up. That's just with rock and roll. I can't imagine if Sex & Drugs were in the mix. My post show ritual is not cocaine and scotch but rather a cocktail of Icy Hot and vitamins. I imagine the Rolling Stones most have similar post show pangs. They do this every night. IMy next show isn't until July 27th at O.C. Fair (shameless plug.) By then I will be better and ready to go at it again. I will rock. Hard. And it will hurt like hell the next day. Or two. Because I'm old and that's The Bitter Truth.
And That's The Bitter Truth.
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