Aggressive, pudgy and awkwardly out of any place it might as well have been 1976 for the small town living I'd been idly busy with the first 12 years of my life. I fist fought a lot more than the other kids, pulled a bit more hair but besides feeling like a stranger in my surroundings it was your typical bike riding, lawn mowing 'Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" lifestyle.
At the very least of my own weeping sob story, I was lucky enough to have a mother who rocked. And once it was acceptable to have my own cd player (as this was the early 90s, not the late 70s) I was slyly spoon fed and eating up her preferred suggestions. The Doors, Dr. Hook, Nazareth, Janis Joplin and I ended up taking Aerosmith a tad too seriously. I was well versed in the tongue in cheek method of Rock and Roll and as you listen closely you find out there's a lot to be learned in the lyrics of a rock song. So I figured myself for an apt pupil.
Until suddenly one afternoon of the ol' ho hum life, in walked The Runaways, knocking me over and fucking me sideways. The sound was menacing and taunting, raw and purely sexual. As it turned out, The Runaways were about to teach me I knew nothing. It was ballsy sweaty rock n' roll but it was different than anything I'd ever heard - Squealed and shrieked out my speakers by teenage girls who couldn't have been much older than I was. How is this even possible?! Awestruck and wide mouthed, my mind screamed and surged every time Cherie Currie sneeringly shouted:
Hello Daddy, Hello Mom, I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!
Hello World, I'm your wild girl, I'm ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!
It took all of about 5 seconds to know that somewhere in the first few bars of 'Cherry Bomb' my life had changed. My heart raced and my sexual education exploded. By the end of it's entire 2 minutes and 10 seconds I knew exactly what Jail Bait Rock was - and I liked it. A Lot. Damn. Forget you God, I think I just found Joan Jett.
In the rock n roll haven known as my bedroom I desperately wanted to be their version of the girl next door. Wearing out my cassettes on the hand me down tape player from my father's youth I quickly narrowed my sights on Joan. Sexier than Chrissie Hynde, darker than Blondie and harder than anything Belinda Carlisle, Pat Benatar and Susanna Hoff's bouncy bumble gum pop shit had to offer. Joan Jett was where it was at.
I scoured used thrift shops for tapes, magazines for articles, even tracked down 'Light of Day' just for a glimpse. And obsessively recorded music television. Thankfully, they still played enough music videos for my research to pay off. It was there I discovered 'I Love Rock N Roll' long before it was everyone's favourite karaoke song to bastardize. The mulletted punk rock raven who almost seemed to reject the Lolita-esque image the rest of The Runaways portrayed had grown into a leather bound ferocious vixen even more threatening than before jeering, "I saw him dancing there by the record machine. I knew he must have been about 17." Teenage objectification through her lips wearing those chucks was almost too much for me to handle. And of course I liked it that way.
Finally I found an idol I could get down with. She was the fox I'd been waiting for. While I grimly fumbled my way through my own teenage years, when I needed her most she unapologetically roared in my ear and reminded me not to give a damn about my bad reputation. She made walking to the bus a lot more mentally manageable and if she could confidently rock a red leather jump suit, I could probably make it through these shit school days as well. Through highschool, I wasn't entirely eager to admit my crush on Joan Jett and the rest of The Runaways. It didn't exactly seem grunge/industrial/whatever the hell was happening in the 90s - friendly.
When I finally decided to get my balls about me, people starting talking to me about The Electrocutes. (Who would later become The Donnas.) Fuck That Noise. I was angry they were entrenching on something sacred. These girls didn't know what The Runaways were about. Yeah they had attitude but they certainly didn't have the raw sexuality. They seemed angry but they didn't seem...deviant. Didn't the world understand this wasn't just about all girl rock to me? This was about blazing the trail of rock n roll sexual sureness all while being a 16 year old bombshell in lingerie and strapped to a guitar - The Runaways were gonna have ya, grab ya, til you're sore! What isn't there to get? Lita Fucking Ford! Joan Fucking Jett!
At the very least of my own weeping sob story, I was lucky enough to have a mother who rocked. And once it was acceptable to have my own cd player (as this was the early 90s, not the late 70s) I was slyly spoon fed and eating up her preferred suggestions. The Doors, Dr. Hook, Nazareth, Janis Joplin and I ended up taking Aerosmith a tad too seriously. I was well versed in the tongue in cheek method of Rock and Roll and as you listen closely you find out there's a lot to be learned in the lyrics of a rock song. So I figured myself for an apt pupil.
Until suddenly one afternoon of the ol' ho hum life, in walked The Runaways, knocking me over and fucking me sideways. The sound was menacing and taunting, raw and purely sexual. As it turned out, The Runaways were about to teach me I knew nothing. It was ballsy sweaty rock n' roll but it was different than anything I'd ever heard - Squealed and shrieked out my speakers by teenage girls who couldn't have been much older than I was. How is this even possible?! Awestruck and wide mouthed, my mind screamed and surged every time Cherie Currie sneeringly shouted:
Hello Daddy, Hello Mom, I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!
Hello World, I'm your wild girl, I'm ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!
It took all of about 5 seconds to know that somewhere in the first few bars of 'Cherry Bomb' my life had changed. My heart raced and my sexual education exploded. By the end of it's entire 2 minutes and 10 seconds I knew exactly what Jail Bait Rock was - and I liked it. A Lot. Damn. Forget you God, I think I just found Joan Jett.
In the rock n roll haven known as my bedroom I desperately wanted to be their version of the girl next door. Wearing out my cassettes on the hand me down tape player from my father's youth I quickly narrowed my sights on Joan. Sexier than Chrissie Hynde, darker than Blondie and harder than anything Belinda Carlisle, Pat Benatar and Susanna Hoff's bouncy bumble gum pop shit had to offer. Joan Jett was where it was at.
I scoured used thrift shops for tapes, magazines for articles, even tracked down 'Light of Day' just for a glimpse. And obsessively recorded music television. Thankfully, they still played enough music videos for my research to pay off. It was there I discovered 'I Love Rock N Roll' long before it was everyone's favourite karaoke song to bastardize. The mulletted punk rock raven who almost seemed to reject the Lolita-esque image the rest of The Runaways portrayed had grown into a leather bound ferocious vixen even more threatening than before jeering, "I saw him dancing there by the record machine. I knew he must have been about 17." Teenage objectification through her lips wearing those chucks was almost too much for me to handle. And of course I liked it that way.
Finally I found an idol I could get down with. She was the fox I'd been waiting for. While I grimly fumbled my way through my own teenage years, when I needed her most she unapologetically roared in my ear and reminded me not to give a damn about my bad reputation. She made walking to the bus a lot more mentally manageable and if she could confidently rock a red leather jump suit, I could probably make it through these shit school days as well. Through highschool, I wasn't entirely eager to admit my crush on Joan Jett and the rest of The Runaways. It didn't exactly seem grunge/industrial/whatever the hell was happening in the 90s - friendly.
When I finally decided to get my balls about me, people starting talking to me about The Electrocutes. (Who would later become The Donnas.) Fuck That Noise. I was angry they were entrenching on something sacred. These girls didn't know what The Runaways were about. Yeah they had attitude but they certainly didn't have the raw sexuality. They seemed angry but they didn't seem...deviant. Didn't the world understand this wasn't just about all girl rock to me? This was about blazing the trail of rock n roll sexual sureness all while being a 16 year old bombshell in lingerie and strapped to a guitar - The Runaways were gonna have ya, grab ya, til you're sore! What isn't there to get? Lita Fucking Ford! Joan Fucking Jett!
Which finally, brings me to the present. Nothing can erase those moments when. The ones that molded who you were to become. The ones you insist on romanticizing once those days are gone. Not even out of my 20s and it's already begun. So its all bit worrisome when a movie trailer of a biopic flashes across your screen with the latest Hollywood brat pack edging to make a possible mockery of your memories. Even with Joan Jett's heavy influence you're still scared it's going to be a gong show.
Until it dawned on me, you know what - Rock The Fuck On. Why wouldn't I want what influenced my own history to have their glory reignited in the hearts of teenage girls who could use a few blows to the psyche? Why wouldn't I want them to learn about the girls who kicked down the doors for the rest of us sitting in small towns wishing we were in the lights? The point is as nervous as I am - it's either going to be chaotic or cathartic - I encourage you to buy a ticket and celebrate, along with myself and a whole new generation, the glorious results of Joan Jett and The Runaways very well spent youth.
Until it dawned on me, you know what - Rock The Fuck On. Why wouldn't I want what influenced my own history to have their glory reignited in the hearts of teenage girls who could use a few blows to the psyche? Why wouldn't I want them to learn about the girls who kicked down the doors for the rest of us sitting in small towns wishing we were in the lights? The point is as nervous as I am - it's either going to be chaotic or cathartic - I encourage you to buy a ticket and celebrate, along with myself and a whole new generation, the glorious results of Joan Jett and The Runaways very well spent youth.
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