In Defense of Rock Star Crushes

Warning:  Links may contain explicit language, click with caution.  

Beiberettes, One Directioners, I’m here to tell you, I get it.  I’ve been there.  I have a history of rock star crushes.  Donny Osmond.  Shaun Cassidy.  Rick Springfield.  Rod Stewart.  Jon Bon Jovi.  Paul Stanley.  Jon Bon Jovi.  I pretty much kept going back to Jon, because who doesn’t love him? Eventually, I did grow up a little and my rock star fantasies took on a certain nostalgia.  Real life became about marriage, babies and bills.

Alas, as a sign of a possible midlife crisis, I find myself once again, rock star smitten. 

The first time I took notice of my crush, was years ago when I was running and listening to the radio.  Sheryl Crow’s song, Picture, was playing and it was a duet with some sexy sounding dude that made me smile.  I had no idea who she was singing with, until my husband offhandedly brought it to my attention.  Kid Rock.  No. Way.  Not the guy who swears, screams and raps vile things about women?

Kid Rock had (or has, to some) a nefarious reputation with all the Pamela and Tommy Lee drama, not to mention WaffleGate.  Yet my family in Michigan raved about what a cool guy he was.  Michiganders love their Prodigal Son, understandably so, since he’s been on a mission to help his home town and is always doing something charitable for the city.  Apparently the Devil Without a Cause has a cause and it’s Detroit, Michigan.   He’s also dedicated to the troops, often performing for them overseas.  Then there’s the whole single dad angle.  Just who is the real dude?

In 2008 All Summer Long became a huge hit.  Everyone I knew was singing it and dancing to it, and pretending to smoke funny things, including (uh-oh) the kids on my street.  He became mainstream, baby!  Even my one-year old would rock out to the song.  The video played constantly on VH1.  I admit it, I was charmed.  Didn’t really care for the gigantic gold chain, but I did appreciate the way he moved.   

Bobby, as I began to refer to him during this period, was one of the last hold outs with the whole iTunes thing, proving to music executives, that they’d Never Met A Mother F***** Quite Like Me.  If you wanted to listen to All Summer Long, you had to buy his CD, Rock N Roll Jesus, which I did.   Surprisingly, some songs on the album are poignant and all are written by him.  Turns out, in addition to spinning records,  playing multiple musical instruments, singing and dancing, the man is a really talented songwriter.

The writer in me had to know more.  I did my Googling and cherry-picked tidbits, to justify my infatuation and prepare my defense.  You wouldn’t believe people’s reactions when I declare my Bobby love.  Perhaps I’m a bit of a rebel myself, because I love to embellish my feelings when people are particularly offended.  They just don’t understand, so I find myself on my Lonely Road of Faith.

Seriously though, he’s an interesting guy.  I don’t always agree with him, but I appreciate his candor.   He’s unafraid to express political opinions, as evidenced by is role in the 2012 campaign.  He has genuine convictions and appears to be uninterested in being part of the cool clique (unlike some of his peers).   His “Public Service Film” with Sean Penn is hilarious and genius.

When Born Free was released, I bought the album and listened to every single song, ad nauseam.  Just ask the kids, who suffered through it.  I knew every word and it was time to see him in concert.  I missed his Atlanta date, so I cajoled my husband into letting me go out of town, with a girlfriend, to see a concert.  Indianapolis, here we come!

It was summer time in central Indiana, and For The First Time, I was going to see my guy live.  I was so excited, and Sheryl Crow was the opening act!  The show was fantastic!  Now, the concert did open my eyes to the fact that perhaps I was out of my league.  I was unprepared for the interesting crowd.  My friend (a former homecoming queen) and I stood out a little bit, and admittedly, we were a tad overdressed.  People would literally Collide into us with elbows and shoulders.  Ra-hude.  One woman dumped beer on me – and I suspect it was not by accident.  But, we had great time.   

I joined the Kid Rock Congregation (his fan club – do not judge me), which gave me all kinds of access to tickets – good ones.  A few months later Bobby launched a small tour, with performances in club venues.  It was labeled the Care Tour, because in each city he gave away some serious money to charity.  I would like to tell you I was there to be charitable, but all I cared about was the fact that I was one of only 900 people who saw him perform for two hours in a BAR.  The concert was amazing.  In just jeans and a t-shirt, he was oh So Hott!  I telling you, the guy performs his heart out.  Even my husband, who I dragged with me, was impressed.  And for the record, I did get beer spilled on me again.  Thinking, maybe it’s me?

Most recently, I made another out-of-state pilgrimage to Louisville to see him in a big arena, for the Rebel Soul tour.  Once again, being a member of the Congregation worked to my benefit, as we were in the front row and I stood the whole time, belly up to the security fence.  That’s what you do, When U Love Someone.  He was so close it was like I could touch him, if I wanted to get arrested.  Let’s just say, the security guard had his eye on me.

So what the hell is my problem?  Lord, I do not know, but if you do, Lay It On Me.  I totally acted like a thirteen year-old at Shea Stadium, circa 1965, and it was Paul McCartney up there.  I was giddy!  When confetti filled the air, during his show-ending performance of Happy New Year, I was about to explode with glee.  I kid you not.  My husband was laughing at me and pretty psyched that I was willing to party on, even after the concert.  This I never do.  I was at a bar, with my husband, at 1 a.m.  What in the world?  I felt young again (although age sure did catch up with me the next morning).

Only God Know Why I’ve become obsessed.  I’m not alone, his last seven albums have all been certified platinum – seven times. I love his slow stuff (I’m guessing he wouldn’t appreciate the term ballad).  The country rock songs are so much fun to dance too, especially with the kids.  His bluesy numbers are so sexy and heartbreaking.  I run to the hard rock songs, or crank them up in the car when I’m alone.  The nasty stuff, well, the prude in me just kind of turns a deaf ear.  Some songs, even I can’t listen too.  Sorry Bobby.

I recently saw him in an interview where he said he had the market on “forty year-old women” of a certain weight, declaring “They love me and I loves thems back.” Say what?  Well, Mr. American Bad Ass, that kind of made me feel Cold and Empty.  And you were totally off on my weight.  Seriously, here I was thinking I was all unique and contrary in my secret suburban mom love for his music and apparently there’s a whole middle aged army of woman, just like me.  Well I never…but dang it, I still love you.

So even though I was holding a grudge, I still went to his Louisville concert, which was the most interesting and eclectic group of people I’ve ever seen.   A people watching jackpot, it was fascinating to watch the interactions happening all around me.  I was definitely in a sea of woman, just like he’d described.  But I had to have stood out – had to – because as has become the tradition, I was once again doused with beer.

So I Roll On, Wasting Time daydreaming about dancing into the Purple Sky, with a Cocky Cowboy who makes me like all I need is a pair of Blue Jeans and a Rosary to Forever feel like young Rebel Soul.  As the Rock N Roll Jesus would say, Amen and God Bless Saturday.

So, since I’ve bared my rock-n-roll loving soul, please tell me you have some crushes too!  Who?  Why?  Are you in a fan club?  A wanna-be groupie?  Are you a Kid Rock lover, or hater? Spill!