Rock of Ages

While indulging in the world of grunge during my middle school years, playing Nirvana songs with my fellow 12 year olds in a band called Kamikaze (yes, this is true), I always wondered about what it would've been like to have been an 80's rock star. This wonderment became more of a dream when I actually came of an age where girls and booze were exciting things. Fast forward to when I'm nearly 30 and 80s rock sometimes seems to just be a bunch of "those finance people" singing Don't Stop Believin' at the Joshua Tree at 3am. The problem is...that song and many others like it, really are still amazing.

Rock of Ages is a new musical that attempts to harness that dream of 80s rock stardom and package it in an art form that is in some ways does represent the idea of bands like Poison, but in some ways seems the very antithesis of everything that movement supposedly stood for: The Broadway Musical. I was a little skeptical when I first heard about this endeavor, but after a strong recommendation from someone who not only was in their 20s during the 1980s, but has a combination of a great taste in rock and a great disdain for music for "pussy music" (two concerts I've seen with him: Godsmack and George Thorogood). I figured, even with the inclusion of American Idol's Constatine Maroulis as the lead, it couldn't be that lame?

The crowd was, as one would imagine, an interesting one. There were barely any kids and you had your combination of people in suits, tourists, 20somethings, but most importantly, there was some representation from that crowd that I was hoping for...the guy sitting in front of me:



Yes, motorcycle vest, biker's gloves, and as the picture can't show you, a goatee about a foot long. With this guy there, I figured out of concerns for the safety of the cast, this had to be legit.

The show started off a little slow, and as I worried, it was somewhat tough sitting there watching a bunch of broadway types dancing around to choreographed routines with moves reminiscent of The Producers, to songs like Sister Christian and the Final Countdown. Even more disturbing was the combination of these songs into medley formats. At one early point, the Sherrie is on the phone with her father. The father, of course back at the farm in Kansas, doesn't believe in her dreams and hangs up on her, when she just wanted to tell her dad, she just wanted to....."Saying I love you, is not the words I want to say to you." Yes, there were many moments like this in the first 20 minutes that worried me.

Then...enter the "arrogant rock star" character, Stacee Jaxx. The character changed the entire direction of the show. One of his first actions was to sign an autograph for a fan with a pen sticking out of his fly. The guy was absolutely absurd and almost every word out of his mouth was hilarious. Suddenly, it became clear the writers had a tremendously self-aware perspective of what this production was. Having a bunch of performers who normally perform in lion king or cat costumes, trying to recreate the aggression of an Axl Rose, was an impossible task. Instead all the stars displayed a good deal of self-aware, self-deprecating humor between spectacular singing performances. They made clear they knew this was not supposed to be a legitimate representation of the 80s....and it was definitely the raunchiest musical I've ever seen.

I did become a little worried though, as the bald dude in front of us looked very pissed. He constantly turned to his wife and looked to be complaining. I did wonder: if you truly were living the rock n' roll lifestyle in the 80s, watching a broadway bastardization of it might disgust you. If everything you held dear, if the memory of friends who actually died in drug overdoses, was now being mocked by a guys singing soprano in makeup (no offense to Bret Michales), wouldn't you be pissed? The guy grabbed his bag and his lady at intermission, and we guessed he wouldn't be back.

Right before the curtains came back open, him and his guest actually did make it back to their seats. The show only got better and better and we kept observing him, but saw absolutely no reaction. As everyone around us started clapping, including a 50 year old Asian guy who was there by himself and pumping his fist to Pat Benatar, the bald dude showed no emotion and only clutched his beer.

After the last number, a massively climactic rendition of everyone's favorite Journey classic, the last chord was struck, there was maybe a moment before the crowd erupted in applause.

The bald guy, violently raised his arm to the rafters, and clenched tightly in that leather fist....a lit lighter.

Absolutely. Fucking. Awesome.