rock n' old

The Superbowl festivities seemed to have everyone consumed yesterday, though in my mom's case, this was more because Paul McCartney was doing the half-time show rather than the actual playing of football.

She mentioned, afterward, how 'old' Paul was looking anymore, and how sad this was. Back in his 'mop-top' days mom was still in Junior High, a large Beatles fan, and was known to swoon over Mr. McCartney. I knew exactly what she meant, though. Back when I was in Junior High, I often swooned over the pre-Esther Madonna, and can share that same sort of sorrow that mom must have felt seeing Paul on stage. Because the Madonna of today is not the hot little Material Girl that I so fondly remember from the mid 1980's.

On New Year's Eve, I was watching Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Party, which was being hosted by Regis Philban since Dick was in the hospital, though Regis' name doesn't sell nearly as much advertising as Dick's, hence the omission of good old Regis from the show title, and one of the acts performing that night was Billy Idol.

Once again, Billy was enjoying the highlight of his career during my stint in Junior High...and you couldn't find a cooler rock n' roll guy. His whole image, from the peroxide, spiky hair, to that anti-establishment sneer of his, to the leather jacket that he wore in his videos, he was just the epitome of cool...to a young teenager, anyway. He had the bad boy image down pat, and as a seventh grader, I just knew that if I had that same look, I'd be getting chicks faster than the acne could pop up on my face.

But, in this the modern time, Billy Idol just looked plain old. And it was quite sad. Here was one of the coolest rock stars of 20 some years ago, whose name adorned those black t-shirts that you would proudly wear throughout the halls to signify that you, too, were cool. And now, the shirts have all been long since thrown out, and Billy looked like he belonged in the same dumpster as well...or at least an old age home somewhere in the mid-west, sitting in his rocking chair on the porch, sipping lemonade, and reminiscing about the 'good old days' when Rebel Yell was in the top ten and he was getting drunk and screwing a different woman (all blonde and big breasted, of course) every night of the week. Now, however, Billy just looks like someone's grandpa...albeit, a grandpa that refuses to release the past and still insists on dying his hair that same peroxide blonde, and still wears that leather jacket...both of which just look plain silly on him.

And it's depressing. Granted, time moves on, people age, and that's just life. But it's sad to see those idols of our youth looking so old. This is namely because it reminds us that we're getting older as well. Just like mom's sorrow for Paul, knowing that this old man was once the young hunk that she had a crush on, I feel the same sorrow every time I see Madonna. Because she just looks old anymore, with not a hint of the young, nubile sex pot that I so fondly remember. Even watching her kiss Britney, I felt more 'queasy' than I did 'tingly' because it was sort of like watching your mother tongue some college coed.

Either way, there really needs to be an age limit on rock and roll. Once you hit 40, you enter the world of Adult Contemporary music, no questions asked. Leather jackets, short skirts, and every hint of youthful exuberance must be left at the door. Rock and roll is truly for the young...because for the old, well, it's just plain creepy.