Dreaming of being a rock star is as American as dreaming about having sex with a rock star. I’ve read countless interviews with performers who describe how they were always putting on “shows” when they were younger. They use these anecdotes as evidence that performing is in their blood. What these talented, or just plain lucky, bastards don’t realize is that most every American kid puts on “shows” as a way to get attention. I used to chase my parents around the house while strumming a plastic guitar in my underwear and singing the same verse to “Old McDonald” repeatedly. And yes, I too won a talent contest for a rap I wrote and performed with a group of four white boys at camp.
You could say that being a rock star is in my blood. So why the hell am I not on TRL or dating Miley Cyrus. The problem is that though performing maybe in my blood, musical talent isn’t. I was born with an impaired sense of rhythm. Five separate times I attempted to teach myself the guitar and failed. When I was older, I attempted the bass thinking it would be easier to learn considering it only has four strings. My highlight from this venture was being asked to play bass on an intentionally horrendous, mock hard-rock song called “Sewer of Ass Piss.” Since playing an instrument was out of the question, I did what any talentless performer does: I decided to become a singer. I did in fact write and record a few songs with my sexually explicit boy band, 2 Sr. Real, but hearing my recorded voice was painful even for someone as self-obsessed as me.
The fact that I will never be a rock star has been particularly difficult to accept considering that I have so many other attributes that make me overqualified: I can switch leotards within a matter of seconds, play air guitar against the carefully formed bulge in my tight pants, and underage women eat me up. Unfortunately the world will never know my talents, and I will never seduce as many women as the grungiest of rock stars. I am reminded of this sad fact every time I go to a rock show. I will never be a rock star and so my only hope is to try and sleep with one.
This article appears in Aug 27 – Sep 2, 2008.