by Cristy
September 2002

Take away the flashy clothes, revering fans, record contracts and exclusive galas, and rockstars are nothing better or more than the rest of us. Although by all appearances they have the coolest job in the world, our common sense (if not Behind the Music) tells us they struggle and worry, have disappointments and setbacks, and generally stumble their way through life just like everyone else.

However, knowing all of that does nothing to stop us from plastering our walls with their posters, buying their albums, flocking to their concerts, taping their television appearances, or coveting even the smallest personal contact. It is seemingly impossible to be logical or reasonable when it comes to our rock and roll idols. So what happens when the object of our admiration doesn't live up to our expectations?

As a music magazine, it's difficult to overlook the eccentricities and peccadillos of musicians. Score! Music produces an extraordinary amount of content each week and the great majority of the time it is received with a quiet acknowledgment or expression of gratitude. When the occasional disgruntled artist surfaces, we do our best to listen to, and respond to, his or her sentiments in a professional manner. Unfortunately, when this same person bellows, takes personal jabs at the writer or the magazine, or makes demands, this becomes impossible.

Let's call this behavior what it is - a temper tantrum.

There are media outlets who refuse to publish unflattering pieces about musicians to avoid this very phenomenon, while others goad their subjects into acts of such absurdity that I'm embarrassed for them both. Personally, I'm a student of the "You can't please all the people all the time" school, so I, with my Score! Music cohorts, strive toward honesty and constructive criticism (with a little jocularity and mayhem thrown in for good measure). When an unsigned band, or member of such, snorts and rants, it's easy to dismiss them as amateurish, not knowing their business, and thin-skinned. A wave of the hand and an errant "They won't be leaving (insert name of town) anytime soon" usually suffices. Such is not the case with a foot-stomping veteran.

Perhaps it's an antiquated notion, but I was raised to respect my elders - respect everyone really, until such a time as they give you reason not to. I also believe that as you age and experience life, you grow wiser, more tolerant, and generally improve as a person. Therefore, I expect a certain amount of decorum from a fifty year old man who has been in the music business since the sixties. I would expect that if he was displeased with an album review, he would address it in a calm and reasonable manner instead of attacking the writer, calling her names, and then commanding that I remove the offensive piece. I would expect, at the very least, that he have more dignity than to attempt to impress me with name dropping and his endless scores of fans, all while offering gender-specific stereotypes and demeaning comments about what state I call home. Believe me, I'd rather be a maggot farmer in Bald Knob, Arkansas than trade places with such an arrogant and small-minded man.

I wonder if it's years of being coddled and praised that result in this blind vanity. Maybe the endless stream of criticism provokes a self-protective delusion that only years of therapy can break. Whatever the case, such antics don't work on the playground, and it's obvious that someone needs to take the aforementioned mudslinger's inner child over their knee. I sincerely hope that his fans never discover what I know, which is that they are beneath him, their only value lies in the praise they heap upon him. Because no matter how much great someone's talent or accomplishments, once you realize you have no respect for the person behind them, they're as meaningless as the empty clanging of a churchbell in a deserted town.