You Can Check Out Any Time You Like, But You Can Never Leave

Some people - older people, like Gene Simmons in an interview with Henry Rollins where Simmons completely shocked Rollins into awkward silence - have complained that we've lost the concept of the rock star in the twenty-year triumph of indie music. I'm not entirely sure that I agree (although perhaps one could argue that Guitar Hero and Rock Band are symptomatic of what Counting Crows said about us wanting to be big, big stars), but props to Iron Maiden for attempting to put the separate, higher-realm creature element back into the mix with their London hotel for rock stars. Of course, because this hotel is a business venture, they don't want their future rock star guests to wreck the place in the best rock star style - no Led Zeppelin shark episodes here - but at least you have to be a well-known musician to get in. No doubt they'll be doing lines of coke off the speaker-shaped mini bars in no time.

Henry Rollins at Warsaw

At some point during Braveheart, Robert the Bruce and his father are having one of their creepy fireside chats where Mel Gibson beats us over the head with the internal evil/external corruption symbolism that the father's character represents. No one would deny that the elder Bruce is not a loathsome person, but he makes an interesting point during this particular conversation. As Robert gushes over William Wallace's passion and contemplates joining the revolt to establish Scotland's independence, his father silences him with a salient bit of wisdom: "You admire this man, this William Wallace. Uncompromising men are easy to admire."

I've applied that piece of thinking to my own measurements of admiration many times, and the same truth always emerges: as someone who embraces compromise with perhaps a bit too much alacrity, uncompromising men are always easy for me to admire. That doesn't mean I agree with their principles - I express admiration for both Gene Simmons and Ted Nugent though I find Simmons' thoughts on music as art shortsighted and Nugent's ideas on cultural values disturbingly unenlightened - but I do admire their confidence of expression.

Henry Rollins, though...Henry Rollins is different. I've written in the past about how much I admire the man and his work, but Rollins is the exception in my list of admirable celebrities, because he consistently states his principles in a way that invites discussion, not defiance. "Don't let anyone else live your life for you or make your opinions for you," his stories say, and not because it's the "right" or "wrong" thing to do, but because you'll have a less fulfilling life and miss out on so much. His principles aren't swinging dick objectifications, but just a desire to really live life to the fullest in the way that makes the most sense to him. It's inspiring, not bull-headed.

That inspiration was on full throttle last night at Warsaw, a converted Polish social hall in the Greenpoint section of Brooklyn where Rollins performed on one of the first stops of his Provoked spoken word tour. For three hours, Rollins became a conduit, his stance in an aggressive foot-forward position of the hardcore singer (with but the occasional deviation of movement to illustrate a point), his gaze locked on a point at the back of the hall as the stories flowed out in rapid-fire succession, connecting through complicated segues that all somehow resolved themselves into a single theme he brought up at the beginning of the performance: exercise your critical thinking skills, because the moment you don't is the moment you're vulnerable to influence from fear. He talked about his lifestyle, how he's channeled his energies into a work ethic that keeps him going from job to job and city to city so that he's always doing something, always kicking life's ass. He talked about his fundamental curiosity about other people that motivates him to visit Islamabad and Damascus and Beirut and Tehran and Johannesburg and Cape Town (all in one year) just to see what other people are like, shake their hands, make connections, and try to bring everyone a little closer together, despite the perception of danger. He told stories about how meeting his rock idols turns him into a self-conscious music nerd, about the sad, beautiful story of Paul Fox and his goodbye benefit concert, about how he obsesses about making every performance as awesome as possible. He spoke without whining or preaching about his deliberately lonely lifestyle, and how he uses his lack of deep personal connections to motivate himself to go out and do more.

It was a powerful performance, a pure and simple demonstration of Rollins' ability to capture an audience with the truth and beauty of his storytelling and communicate a point, to inspire new thoughts and personal reflection. If you get the chance to see Rollins on this tour, go: immerse yourself in the flood of energy from the stage and revel in it.

John Lennon was Effin' Metal

My wife was holding a wooden massage tool when her hand happened to fall into the metal horns, starting a train of thought that lead her to ask - as confirmation, because she's pretty metal herself - whether or not it was Dio who came up with the gesture. After some discussion about Dio's claim versus Gene Simmons's claim, we hit The Oracle for some answers - and came up with this page on Blabbermouth. Assuming the drawing to the left - which matches the criteria, while the picture that Ear Candy claims as proof cuts off Lennon's thumb - is not doctored, we've got cartoon-style John Lennon, staring in the Yellow Submarine, throwin' up the horns long before Dio or Gene. John Lennon was a rock and roll guy, so chances are he'd probably agree with the spirit of rebellion traditionally associated (in metal) with the horns. In that spirit then, I'm going to nominate him progenitor, because if nothing else it'll make good discussion fodder for parties.

Metal Salute

Let's talk a little bit about a symbol that's probably near and dear to all of our hearts: the devil sign. The goat horns. The evil fingers. The Pommesgabel. The metal horns. The frickin' metal salute, man. They might have been invented by Gene Simmons. Maybe Dio is responsible. Wikipedia claims Jinx Dawson started the whole thing by making them on the cover of her proto-metal band Coven's first album, which would be hilariously ironic - a woman inventing one of male-dominated metal's most iconic gestures. Of course, unless I'm missing something, Dawson isn't making the gesture on the cover of that album.

In any case: you can do it one-handed, you can do it two-handed. You can even put both hands together to let the world know it's just too much metal for one hand. But for the sake of all that's holy and unholy: you don't do this with your hand, unless you're trying to tell the band someone that maybe you should work out face to face, without the amplifiers blaring. Normally I'm not one to go for false metal stuff - I listen to far too much stuff (including Manowar) to make those sort of stupid categorizations - but come on. If you're going to call yourself a metal fan, at least make an effort to pick up one of the basics of the culture.