Men and Dads.

[e_juliana]

I'm protesting the '70s glam icon quiz (though I got Lou Reed), because there's no women on it. I'm not conversant enough with that part of music history, but I'm pretty sure there weren't any women in glam rock (so it makes the protest kind of silly, I admit).

But it got me to thinking, and I realized that the '70s - in my whacked-out head - are very male years. Yes, there's disco and the transsexualness of that, but disco was so loudly drowned out by punk, by angry white men, by Viet Nam, that the '70s feel male. Beyond punk, there's Alabama and Lynrd Skynrd and CCR and generally shaggy men with facial hair and bell-bottoms.

There's folk, which was heavily female, and there's Joan Armatrading and Joan Baez and Pat Benetar. I know all of that. But that's not my immediate reaction to the concept of the '70s. Huh.

(I repeat, all of this is in my head. I'm aware that I'm woefully undereducated in a lot of areas. Someday, I may do something about that.)



Tying in nicely to that is - Rob. (Most of my favorite pictures of Rob are one's from the '70s and early '80s, where he's all shaggy and bad-ass, teaching his son how to drink....)

Rob scared me a little. His eyes always had a touch of wildness to them, so that you weren't quite sure what he was going to do next. Normally, it was mocking you, but he could have just as easily jumped up and suggested taking a joyride in a tank. And then gone and done it. I don't think he understood the concept of "impossible to do".

Neverless, I loved and adored him, for a few reasons. One, he and Sadie raised this awesome, wonderful, loving man named Zach. Two, he welcomed me into his Corner of Snark whenever Sadie's family gathered for the holidays (they're loud and hyper. We'd just sit and drink and make comments to each other). Three, he was, um, well.... I was going to say a good father figure, which he was, but in an entirely unconventional and very Rob-like way. Hence Zach's first full sentence: "No thanks, Dad, I don't want any more beer." He was a good Dad, and that's something I've lacked in my life, something I've looked for. Fourth, he adored me, and a Curtis's adoration is an all-encompassing, forceful thing. It's not something you brush off lightly or fail to return.


I don't know if I can ever explain the past year and a half. It's chronicled here and in the hearts of my loved ones, but I don't know that any explanation will be forthcoming. Falling back in love with Zach has actually made it harder to move past everything, because we (and I) need to confront and solve problems instead of just going "Well, that happened" and moving on. Which is where I was in September. I feel I've done the cha-cha many times this past year. Maybe now we can switch to a tango.

Miss you, Rob. I'll take care of your son and wife as best I can, then I'll catch you on the flipside.

Comments

[debg.livejournal.com]

>But it got me to thinking, and I realized that the '70s - in my whacked-out head - are very male years.

But but but - Patti Smith! Debbie Harrie and Blondie (when they were punk and not Georgio Morodor)! Siouxie and the Banshees! Best Bassplayer of the Era (Tina Weymouth of Talking Heads)!

All punk/new wave, etc, true - not the early seventies, and not glam. But after about 1976? Less masculine, despite Clash/Jam/Television/Sex Pistols.

[e-juliana.livejournal.com]

But but but - Patti Smith! Debbie Harrie and Blondie (when they were punk and not Georgio Morodor)! Siouxie and the Banshees! Best Bassplayer of the Era (Tina Weymouth of Talking Heads)!

Exactly, and this is why I'm whacked-out.

I think it's because my love for Patti and Siouxie and the Talking Heads grew when I was a teenager in the 80's & 90's. It's not what I was hearing around me, if that makes sense.

[debg.livejournal.com]

Ah, the generational differences. I saw Patti at CBGB, New Years Eve show 1977, en route to London - then got to London and saw Talking Heads (with an opening act no one had ever heard of, called Dire Straits) at the Roundhouse, in North London. And Debbie played the Mabuhay here in SF twice right around then, wearing a pink leather bomber jacket with "King Fu Girls" on the back.

I keep forgetting how old I am. And how old everyone else isn't.

I wish I'd heard more new wave/punk played in the eighties and nineties. All I remember is rap and hiphop. With few exceptions, those years (especially the eighties) were a musical dead zone for me.

And did I say, I loved your retrospective on Rob? Pace, to Zach and Sadie and you, as well. And may the season renew you all.

[e-juliana.livejournal.com]

Man, Dire Straits. Would have loved to see them live.

I wish I'd heard more new wave/punk played in the eighties and nineties.

I did sort of luck out with Fairbanks being 5-7 years behind everyone else. When dance music was all the rage, we were heavy into the Cure and Depeche Mode and Talking Heads and the Clash. New Wave retrospectives started coming out at the time, as well, so we picked those up at Fred Meyer's.

Man, I had an isolated childhood. If I sprog? I'm making sure the kid is front-and-center. They can decide what to do with it from there, but I want them to at least know the stuff is out there.

Pace, to Zach and Sadie and you, as well. And may the season renew you all.

Thank you. I am massively vibing for your renewal and a cessation of new unfun problems.

[debg.livejournal.com]

>Man, Dire Straits. Would have loved to see them live.

They were, literally, jaw-dropping. Or Mark was.

The gig was at the Roundhouse, an old streetcar turnaround station (it was on a huge rotating pedestal) near Camden Town. The bill was Talking Heads (headlining), a completely awful opening act called Slaughter and the Dogs, and the middle act, Dire Straits. Their first LP was just being released - I sat there with my mouth open, listening to them do "Sultans of Swing" and "Walking in the Wild West End", making little worshipful noises in my throat, wondering how the hell Knopfler was getting that particular noise out of that particular guitar (I am not a Stratocaster woman, I'm a Gibson girl, and most Strats sound scratchy and shrill to me, and his sounded like the voice of the angels).

Damn. That gig might just be one thing I'd revisit if I had a time machine. And if I could, I'd take you along, not only for that one, but for the Clash and Elvis Costello, at the anti-National Front rally in South London in the winter of 1978.

[makaidiver.livejournal.com]

> Miss you, Rob. I'll take care of your son and wife as best I can, then I'll catch you on the flipside.

*sniff*