My life in heavy metal

Today, Fringes put up a post describing the kind of music she liked to listen to and the reactions said music tended to generate. She included a list of some of her favorite songs and then asked her readers to list some of their favorite inner-dork songs. It's inspired me to tell you a little about my musical tastes, despite the fact that it may just give you another reason to laugh at me.

Judging by some of the responses to these posts, it seems that most of you thought I was some sort of punk rock grunge goth girl with black hair and a nose ring, walking around in combat boots and torn fishnets. Apparently, you all think I'm one of those people who listens to eighties throwback bands like the Cure or the Smiths and walk around bemoaning the general pissiness of the world while contemplating my next tattoo.

Eh....not so much.

While I do have a tattoo (two, actually) I'm not a big fan of piercings or the Cure. I don't own any combat boots or fishnets and I don't think I'd look that great with black hair. Today, my favorite music is decidedly non-mainstream but not too weird. Rufus Wainwright, Damien Rice, Eels, Sia, Jem, Doves, Scissor Sisters. (By the way, if you're not listening to any of these artists, then you don't know what you're missing.)

This is a far cry from what I used to listen to. When I was younger, I was really into hair bands. Yes, yes, I know. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I was a child of the 80's and as such, it was pretty much required that I either be a metalhead or a new waver. I didn't get Devo. But spandex pants and big hair? That was something I could relate to. My grandma didn't get it. I remember her picking up one of my records and looking at the cover. I think it was Poison's "Look What the Cat Dragged In". She looked at it for a second and then said, "Are these boys or girls?" Needless to say, my grandma did not know how to rock.

The basic rule of thumb for liking these kinds of bands was not the quality of the music but the cuteness of its members. The better looking they were, the more likely I was to buy whatever crap album they put out. Musical talent was irrelevant in the face of black leather pants and a hairy chest. The guys wanted to be them and the girls wanted to be with them. What did it matter if they couldn't carry a tune?

I think it wasn't even the music so much as it was my love of rock stars, which persists to this day. I don't know what it is about them. Maybe it's the attitude, maybe it's the tattoos. Maybe it's still just the tight pants. My current rock star crush is Rob Zombie. Yes, that Rob Zombie. I know what you're thinking. Wow, she has good taste. What can I say? I like them rough around the edges, sort of dangerous. And it doesn't hurt that his music absolutely kicks ass. He's the hottest 40-year-old around in my opinion.

As for my list of inner-dork songs, it would have to include any and all of those 1980s power ballad, metal songs. When I hear them on the radio, I instantly feel silly and swoony all at once, remembering those long-ago infatuations. These songs always make me smile and of course, I still sing along. When I see these guys on TV, usually on VH1, which seems to be a haven for washed-up rock stars, I feel a little sad. The most crushing blow was when I realized that a lot of these guys wear wigs. (Paul Stanley, I'm talking to you.) Still, to quote Dee Snider, I wanna rock. And I plan to until I drop dead or my artificial hip gives out, whichever comes first.