Yet, each time I watch him perform live, I'm compelled to watch his every move. And forced to admit, the Aerosmith frontman straddles the line between sexy and downright gross.
This isn't the first Aerosmith concert I've attended - my youth is peppered with an eclectic sampling of performances I've stood in line for. I've talked dirty with Poison (three times), helped Alice Cooper take out the garbage, watched Def Leppard pour some sugar on me, gone for a ride in Prince's little red corvette, rocked out with the Boss, been to never never land with Metallica and spent a considerable amount of time (though not nearly enough) with Bon Jovi.
And that's just a (small) sampling.
There's a scar on my hand from hopping a barbed wire fence to meet Skid Row, and I still remember the scent of Janie Lane's hairspray when he gave me a hug after a Warrant / Danger Danger concert. Sad, I know. I've slept outside the Calgary Saddledome to secure front row tickets for anything from Motley Crue to Tiffany (*blushing*), and logged overtime hours at the fast-food-job-of-the-month for a collection of concert shirts I no longer wear.
Good times, back then.
Back when it was mostly about rock - and admittedly, hairbands and heavy metal.
My tastes are even more eclectic now, and the music loaded on my iPod tends to lean toward the commercial pop/hip hop playing on the radio. I don't mind Tik Tok'ing with Ke$ha, or occasionally hitting Britney one more time. I'm more than willing to stand up and watch Eminem and Rihanna burn. And, since I have a teenaged stepdaughter, yes, Biebs, when you smile, I smile. Gag.
But after nights like last, when Steven Tyler is doing that oddly appealing strut across the stage, and I'm still gob-smacked at Joan Jett's amazing arm definition (Yes, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts OPENED for Aerosmith), I'm reminded of how much I miss the concert scene, and some of that old school music.
I don't have a single Aerosmith song loaded on my iPod but I sang along to all but one tune. And watching Steven slither in tight yellow pants had me up on my feet dancing - though not anything the girls at J'Adore Dance would applaud. (Jess dear, I thought about popping my chest, but there was a rather well endowed woman beside me who seemed to have cornered the market. Kasha darling, somehow the cha cha didn't feel quite right for Love in an Elevator. Right? And Juicy J, Steven did enough Naughty Hottie moves for all of Edmonton last night...I've yet to master that crotch-grabbing, hip-popping style.)
I hadn't planned on going to the concert last night (lack of finances often triumph over want these days) but couldn't resist the comp ticket and awesome company - and though I dreamed of Steven's
So tell me, any wild concert stories you're willing to share? Who's the rocker who rocks your world?
The Book In My Bag Today: The Search, Nora Roberts