An ode to Rod

I often joke that my parents 'farmed' me out to work as soon as I could hold a shovel in my hand for yard work. In all honesty, my first 'real' job that I had to attend with any regularity was as a babysitter for my mom's best friends two kids. It was during the summer between 7th and 8th grade. I had not kissed a boy yet, I worshipped Cyndi Lauper and I thought George Michael was straight. It was a great time.

My 'job' was about 3 miles away from my house, so I had to ride my bike through the dusty roads of East side Santa Cruz to get to the house where the kids lived. In those says, there were empty lots of land. There was not a sidewalk or curb, so I had to be somewhat vigilant while 'sharing' the road with cars. This meant blasting INXS "Kick" in my tape walkman at full volume as I pedaled towards the gig. We did not know about helmets, drunk drivers or correct "turn signals." I did know how to perfectly ride without any hands so I could adhere to my morning breakfast during that summer- eggrolls and diet coke, a combo I picked up from the only corner store en route - Kong's Market. The eggrolls were stored in a plastic tupperware container next to the cash register. That seemed perfectly safe and sanitary- why waste the time walking to and from a refrigerator?

The kids lived two blocks away from the beach. We would usually spend the morning at their house, playing whatever game they were into, then hit the waves around noon. I say 'hit the waves' - the kids were 8 and 7, and each had their own boogie board.

Around this time, the kids cousin came to stay with them. He looked exactly like tennis star Boris Becker, who had just made a splash at Wimbledon. He was about 15 years old, smoked pot, and seemed very sophisticated.

He brought a load of records with him. During his stay, we listened constantly to Rod Stewart's "Camouflage." I still hear "Infatuation" and think of the "cousin."

This summer marked the beginning of my life long obsessions: Kong's Market and their shady eggrolls- and my amoure for Rod Stewart.

Rod to me is THE personification of '80s chic- check him out in his video for the aforementioned "Infatuation." How many men actually will admit to being totally besotted with someone, to the point of stalking them? BLESS HIM!



It does not hurt that Rod has a swimming pool theme and a Boardwalk-esque Merry Go Round in the video.

Moving back to "Tonight I'm Yours," one of Rod's many valentines to one night stands- it takes a strong man to dress entirely in pink, including visor, and still look smoking. During my DJ career, I would blast this song, twenty years after it was first recorded, and eye the crowd for my own conquest du jour. Rod was my soundtrack and inspiration. The video, shot with a vaseline-d lens, perfectly captures that excitement of going on the hunt for the evenings booty. It also is three minutes illustrating the fantasy and fun that seems so lost in today's music economy.

You can harsh on me, and dismiss what I am saying- "Rod WAS important, ROD WAS HOT, now he is some old fart doing covers in Vegas."

But do we not all fear getting old(er) and being irrelevant? I listen to my students speak- and the loop between hip and forgotten, cool and passe- the time frame is smaller and less apologetic for being ageist than ever before. Students in their early 20s GREW UP listening to the bands I worked with- and were not born when the bands I like(d) were in existence. Many of them are mainly if not only interested in electronic music of various ilks. I bring this up because that is an entirely different world with a (mostly) anonymous, faceless producer of music. Music is created and consumed in this new music economy in a totally different manner.

I can rhapsodize about "how it was" while appreciating how it is. But will the students of today have a Rod to guide them? A touchstone for key moments, whether they be uncomfortable adolescence, more uncomfortable city dwelling 20s/30s or happier current life? Rod's newest incarnation is only a twist on what he has always been- a survivor, a fighter, a fucking stud. Show me his equivalent in the newest batch from Ibiza. As one of my students said with disgust as he looked through my music collection the other day, 'Rod Stewart always pops up." And to me, that is not a bad thing.