Fargo Rock City (19 page)

However, I really liked
Lita.
Of all the albums I never actually listened to, it was probably my favorite. Lita was crouching on the front of the record, kind of like Daryl Hannah in
Clan of the Cave Bear.
In one of the photos inside, she was wearing one of those Mexican bandoliers across her chest, and she made the bullets look foxy. Lita was ready to go to war … and then come home and bang somebody.

My fondest memories of
Lita
focus around a particularly unrocking time in my life. I was fifteen and attending the North Dakota state speech and debate tournament in Mandan, North Dakota, right across the Missouri River from Bismarck. My speech coach (a semihip English teacher named Brenda) drove me and two girls (including Janet Veit!) the four hours to Bismarck, where I was scheduled to compete in extemporaneous speaking. We even stayed in a hotel, which is always strangely exciting during high school.

I spent most of the trip down talking about Lita Ford. The reason I can so clearly remember this is because it was the first time I ever really talked about anything sexual in the presence of women. Prior to this weekend, the only time I had ever discussed a physical attraction to a woman was with other guys (usually in some type of cliché locker room situation). As soon as we got to Bismarck, we went to the local mall and I immediately bought the
Lita
cassette. I didn't have my Walkman with me, and my teacher's car didn't have a cassette player; basically, it was a useless acquisition. The four of us spent about two hours in this mall, and I didn't buy anything else (although I did play three dollars' worth of
Elevator Action
in the arcade). I mostly walked around the shopping center, reading the
Lita
liner notes. I also remember thinking it was very strange that the floor of the Bismarck mall was carpeted. Actually, that still seems strange to me.

For the next two days, I loudly insisted that I wanted to sleep with Lita Ford. And I suppose I did. Why wouldn't I? Lita was the rock chick I had always heard about in other bands' songs. The fact that I couldn't play this cassette didn't matter; in fact, the music might have made me
less
interested, because most of
Lita
turned out to be shit. But at the moment of purchase, I had to assume that every song on the LP was going to be as cool as “Kiss Me Deadly.” Talking about the music was more exciting than hearing it (which is still the way I feel about most rock 'n' roll).

In retrospect, it seems clear why Lita Ford was the catalyst for my sudden willingness to talk about sex. She may have been totally unreal, but she was a step closer to reality. I mean, at least Lita Ford was a woman. She wasn't David Lee Roth
talking
about a woman. She wasn't acting as the faceless recipient of Blackie Lawless's penis. Lita was a female entity with a real personality. And since my only exposure to sexuality had been through metal music, I was only going to be comfortable expressing an attraction to a woman who existed in that world. I had never had a girlfriend in my life. I had never even kissed a girl. Even though I was thinking about sex constantly, I had no idea how to process or manage those kinds
of thoughts. But I
did
understand hard rock. I understood the glam rock depiction of being in love and being in lust. And I didn't feel awkward having those feelings toward Lita Ford. Somehow, I felt like I knew what I was doing.

Every once in a while, Ford is remembered as a rare role model for female guitar players in the 1980s. She was one of the few women who succeeded in a male-dominated world, and I'm sure some girls did look up to her. But she may have even done more for stupid boys like me. As contradictory as it might seem, Lita Ford made me think about sexy women as
people
—not just as the subject of some long-haired guy's lyrics.

The irony to all this is that by talking about Ford as an exception, I am unconsciously working under the assumption that heavy metal
is
sexist. I'm discussing metal's sexism as if it's an indisputable fact, outlined in the Constitution (or at least in the Articles of Confederation). Sometimes I forget that this may or may not be true. I guess I never consider the alternative.

Certainly, '80s metal was almost always about sex. And—certainly—that sex was almost always described from the perspective of a man. But does this automatically mean it's sexist? Do those elements automatically make anything (or everything) that comes with it a sexist art form?

Probably.

I suppose any opinion that comes almost exclusively from one gender is going to be sexist, although the term “genderist” would technically be more accurate. This is amplified when the subject is physical intercourse; few aggressive opinions can be safely expressed about sex, and never by guys like Sebastian Bach.

I've always been baffled by—and strangely attracted to—feminists. It's hard not to notice their amusing hypocrisies more than their “confrontational” ideas, as is typical of most people who hold strong opinions. Feminists are one of the three kinds of people who express the most outrage over the sexual content of metal music. The other two groups are right-wing Christian conservatives (who express outrage over pretty much anything that's remotely interesting), and pseudo-intellectual male academics (who share
my attraction to feminists but actively try to do something about it). I am most interested in the arguments from classic feminists; I use the modifier “classic” to differentiate between prototypical ERA types, like Gloria Steinem, and those so-called neo-conservative feminists like Camille Paglia (neo-conservatives like Paglia tend to
adore
cock rock and seem just as crazy as classic feminists, but in a good way).

I never give any credence to the anti-metal arguments from Christian conservatives or sensitive male feminists. The first group bases its stance on an enforced morality, and the second group holds their argument because they think it somehow makes them seem smart. Neither has any idea what they're talking about. I will, however, listen to antimetal arguments made by classic female feminists (and I have on countless occasions). The problem is that—no matter how intelligent they may be—they inevitably attack the same ideas they typically support. It's kind of like whenever abortion opponents argue in favor of capital punishment, or when ardent pro-choice types talk about the inhumanity of the death penalty. The philosophical inconsistency always overwhelms the potential for logic.

Often, feminists go after the alleged misogyny in metal with a stock argument that's hard to counter: “If I'm offended by it,” they say, “then that is proof enough.” The thinking is that the only criterion for what is
offensive
is that someone was
offended
by it. In a linguistic sense, the argument makes perfect sense. In reality, it means less than nothing. In fact, this kind of thinking is the worst thing that has happened to language, publishing, and damn near everything else in society over the last twenty years. If you are personally offended by the “Hot for Teacher” video, it might be because the video is sexist. It also might be because you're the kind of person who is easily offended. Or it might even be because you're fucking crazy. But regardless of how you feel, your personal feelings do not constitute an argument over whether something is sexist.

A slightly more compelling argument (the operative word being “slightly”) is that metal was sexist for “contextual” reasons.
The suggestion is that it inevitably placed sex in a context that made women objects or victims (or at the very least secondary to the existence of a man). I suppose this is somewhat true. I slip into that argument when I write about Lita Ford. It's hard to imagine rock music done any other way, though. That's the nature of personal art. Liz Phair certainly sings everything through the eyes of a woman, and her narratives sometimes portray men as jerks and manipulators. Chrissie Hynde does that same thing—yet I would never assume the Pretenders were sexist. That's just the way songwriting works. When I try to think of pop songs that objectively paint both sides of a relationship, the only one I can come up with is that tune from the Human League where the girl was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar.

But this much is true: There
is
an undeniable difference between someone like Chrissie Hynde and someone like Jani Lane (despite the fact that they both happen to hail from Akron, Ohio). The difference is simple. Chrissie seems smart, Jani seems stupid. This does not mean that Chrissie
is
smart or that Jani
is
stupid; it merely means that it seems that way. So when Warrant sang about sex, they came across as mindlessly horny musk oxen. The reason they were popular is that they fully recognized this perception and used it to their advantage. Like any smart metal band, they marketed their weakness into a strength.

Just about everyone agrees that sexism is an act of ignorance, or at least that's what people say if they need to make a public retraction about an indisputably sexist statement. For example, if a public figure does (or says) something so obviously sexist that it's indefensible, there's really only one means of spin control: A well-respected ally must come forward and say, “I know [
insert name of sexist jerk
] as a person, and he is not a sexist jerk. He is simply ignorant about this issue” (Public Enemy's Chuck D had to make similar statements on behalf of former bandmate Professor Griff whenever Griff mindlessly declared war against the Jews). It's a necessary form of surrender, but it has a cost; once you're shackled with the perception of ignorance, you can never again comment on anything controversial without getting nailed
by everyone who lacks a sense of humor (or wants to punish you for having one).

Since metal was so willing to be dumb, it put itself in a position where it had to absorb the insults of its detractors. Everyone knows there's a difference between “dumb” and “unintelligent.” Unfortunately, heavy metal was perceived as both. And that's why Warrant's idea of sex was always going to demand the inclusion of an “ist” at the end. The main explanation for heavy metal's sexism was its conscious willingness to let itself be burdened with that particular cross.

Probably the best argument I've heard about metal's sexism is the least verbal one—
just look at it.
It you're clever enough, you can make a good argument for anything. You can explain why heavy metal isn't sexist a thousand different ways. However, it's hard to stare into the Red Sea and claim it's not wet. To insist that the video for “Cherry Pie” is not (at the very least) somewhat insulting toward females ignores the most obvious reality in the universe. The same goes for David Lee Roth's “California Girls,” Y & T's “Summertime Girls,” Mötley Crüe's “Girls Girls Girls,” or any video that features girls fucking automobiles. Everything can be debated, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's debatable.

Okay, fine.
Heavy metal was sexist.
It's a judgment call, and I'm making the judgment. But that raises yet another question:

What's the big deal?

Here again, I run the risk of insulting most smart people. However, that's not always such a bad idea. There is no reason to assume that something that's generally bad is
always
bad, and it's very possible—in fact, pretty likely—that the sexism in glam rock was perfectly fine.

It seems that people who complain about rock 'n' roll tend to have a problem with consistency. Half the time they bemoan the content of Judas Priest, and half the time they are insisting that it's akin to a bad joke. It really can't be both. If art is stupid, it can't really be harmful. If it's not stupid, then it can't be dismissed as socially irrelevant.

In order to avoid this problem, I'm going to eliminate both scenarios.

Let's start by working under the assumption that metal is stupid. It's a position widely asserted by critics: Of all the popular genres of rock music over the past fifty years, metal is the least regarded and most maligned. So let's assume it has no real social consequence.

If all this is true, how do we perceive AC/DC? They sing songs like “Giving the Dog a Bone” (which is not about dogs), “Inject the Venom” (which is not about venom), and “Big Balls” (which
is
about balls). When they're not beating you over the head with monster guitar riffs (most of which were way too good for any “legitimate” musician to come up with), the boys in AC/DC claimed to be fucking your sister. And her best friend. And maybe your mother. And they're not being real sensitive about it either. In fact, they might even be killing these women when they're finished, but that's not totally clear.

This being the case, we can safely place AC/DC into the “probably sexist” category (and I'm sure they would be very offended if we didn't). There are many who would denounce Australia's loudest band for this not-so-chivalrous attitude. These people would say that their music has a negative effect on both men and women, and it turns sexual intercourse into a violent conquest.

But isn't this what it's supposed to do? I mean, heavy metal is universally assumed to be stupid, right? And AC/DC is one of these stupid metal bands, right? So it seems to me it's almost their
job
to be sexist. It's naive and irrational to expect a world where everyone is enlightened (there cannot be light without darkness), so we always need some definitive heroes and villains. Someone has to wear the white hats and someone has to wear the (back in) black hats. If sexism is dumb—and we all seem to agree it is—one would have to assume that the most sexist bands are going to be the dumbest bands. And according to our premise, this would be the metal bands. And who could be more metal than AC/DC?