The Groovy Thing To Do
This post has been a week in the making, first percolating in my brain and then taking the entire day to write itself out. I'm fairly happy with how it turned out, which is unusual for me. I have done my best to reduce an entire history of exploitation down to less than ten paragraphs, and I am not entire sure I have succeeded in expressing myself. But I feel it's very important to have this discussion and consider certain actions in the context of what came before.

And because I know that not everyone is so deep a music nerd to recognize, say, Muddy Waters at first glance, I have included Wikipedia links to all relevant groups, artists, and terms.

A disclaimer: The racial attitudes and tensions of the Civil Rights era are not the same as those of the queer movement and should never be directly compared and weighed against each other as "better" or worse." I have at times done it and still regret those instances; all exclusions on the basis of othering exist on a spectrum of bad. I worried about my connection between the two concepts here, but I stand by it on the basis of an example of the systematic exploitation of the appeal of the "other" by the music machine, no matter where or how they began.

This post will be in two parts. I'll begin with the history, laying out the development and reaction to blue-eyed soul (focusing on the Righteous Brothers), followed by Motown, closing with the white blues band movement. After this, I'll lay out my parallel case with regard to stage gay, focusing on Fall Out Boy (FOB)'s Pete Wentz and his predecessor, David Bowie. I owe a huge debt in this to Arnold Shaw's The Rock Revolution, an extensive rock history written on the edge of the 70s. I reference it extensively for the first half of this essay-post.

Muddy Waters said it best when describing the music industry of the 50s, 60s, and 70s (as recorded in Rock Revolution): "I had to come to you behind the Rolling Stones and the Beatles," Muddy Waters told an American college audience. "I had to go to England [see the British Invasion] to get here." (148) It's no secret that songs by black artists preformed on "the chitlin' circuit," as black clubs were known, were re-recorded by white artists and became huge hits for them with little to no credit for their originators. Pat Boone is notorious for this.

While not as erroneous as some musicians (they instead relied more on Phil Spector's "Wall of Sound" technique), the Righteous Brothers were "blue-eyed soul," white artists who adopted phrasing styles of black r&b artists and often "passed" as black on r&b stations.

And after finding out the Righteous Brothers were white, many r&b stations pulled their records and refused to play them and black clubs refused to book them. Despite this, Bobby Hatfield (one half of the duo) admitted to the Brothers' privilege as white artists: they were able to get into places foundational black soul artists couldn't hope to perform at. "Club owners and guys who book concerts prefer taking clean-cut looking buys, guys who look good, you know, instead of somebody else." (Shaw 147)

And this brings us to the flip-side - Berry Gordy Jr's carefully crafted Motown sound. Unlike the more traditional Memphis-based Stax-Volt sound, Motown made a concerted effort to reach out to white audiences and break the Top 40 color barrier. As Shaw describes it, "Call it soul slicked up for white listeners, an amalgam of gospel rhythms, modern harmonies, soft melodies and bright lyrics." (140) Motown's charm school is a direct result of conditions as described in the Hatfield quote. The heavily-managed Motown artists made it because they were molded to fit conditions imposed by the white-dominated Top 40.

The last history to cover is that of the emerging white blues artists like Paul Butterfield. These artists often idoloized and tried to recreate the styles of classic artists like Son House, B.B. King, Bo Diddley, and Howlin' Wolf.

But the emphasis on personal experience often so essential to the emotional impact of blues led to issues of authenticity. The Dirty Blues Band's (later renamed Bacon Fat) steel-guitarist Glenn Ross said, "In some instances we can relate better to a white audience than to a colored because the colored seemed somewhat prejudiced...Some colored audiences actually resented the fact we played their music...The white kids didn't actually like it. But they say they do because it's the groovy thing to do." (Shaw 152)

And lead singer Rod "Ginger-man" Piazza acknowledged the juxtaposition of white musicians recreating an experience not entirely their own. "I've had a lot of hard luck...I'm singing from what I feel myself." But as critic Nat Hentoff commented in Hi-Fi Stereo: "It's not only that you can't go home again; you can't pretend to be from a place you only visited." (Shaw 152)

And some artists did try to visit. Shaw notes that, "Along with Ten Years After and the Savoy Browns, two other dedicated bands, the Fleetwood Mac attempt to "live" the depressed music they play, seeking in the atmosphere of grubby clubs and halls, a substitute for the underprivileged existence of American blacks." But his question at the end of the paragraph is very apt: "But how do you find a substitute for the rootlessness and the lack of identity from which blacks have suffered and created for centuries?" (153)

And with that question I shift my focus to a newer movement pioneered by David Bowie: stage gay, defined as queer subtext and act of homoeroticism in presentation and performance. And over time it's become more prevalent, to the point one can discuss Kelly Clarkson's and Reba McEntire's hints of lesbianism during a CMT performance. Throughout this section I will be focusing on Pete Wentz due to his many public statements, but I am by no means trying to single him out. Britney/Madonna, t.A.T.u., and others deserve as much scrutiny (if not more) as him or any other major artist or band which engages in homoeroticism but continues to hold onto the privilege of society's heteronormativity.

With Bowie, bisexuality was an important part of his Ziggy Stardust persona, an element to help sell his "otherness." Consider this series of quotes from Bowie:

Playboy in 1976 "It's true - I am a bisexual. But I can't deny that I've used that fact very well. I suppose it's the best thing that ever happened to me."

To an unknown source in 1993, "I think I was always a closet heterosexual. I didn't ever feel that I was a real bisexual. It was like I was making all the moves, down to the situation of actually trying it out with some guys. But for me, I was more magnetised by the whole gay scene, which was underground. Remember, in the early 1970s it was still virtually taboo. There might have been free love, but it was heterosexual love. I like this twilight world. I like the idea of these clubs and these people and everything about it being something that nobody knew anything about. So it attracted me like crazy. It was like another world that I really wanted to buy in to. So I made efforts to go and get into it. That phase only lasted up to about 1974. It more or less died with Ziggy. I was only really adopting the situation of being bisexual. The reality was much slimmer. I wanted to imbue Ziggy with real flesh and blood and muscle, and it was imperative that I find Ziggy and be him. The irony of it was that I was not gay. I was physical about it, but frankly it wasn't enjoyable. It was almost like I was testing myself. It wasn't something I was comfortable with at all. But it had to be done."

Blender in 2002, when asked "You once said that saying you were bisexual was “the biggest mistake I ever made.” Do you still believe that?"

"Interesting. [Long pause] I don’t think it was a mistake in Europe, but it was a lot tougher in America. I had no problem with people knowing I was bisexual. But I had no inclination to hold any banners or be a representative of any group of people. I knew what I wanted to be, which was a songwriter and a performer, and I felt that [bisexuality] became my headline over here for so long. America is a very puritanical place, and I think it stood in the way of so much I wanted to do."

Like the Righteous Brothers, Bowie embraced the culturally-influenced style of a minority, but ultimately his privilege gives him a window to success. Pete Wentz, Gerard Way, and others inherit this legacy. Though their gay-friendly image first hurt them (as did the Righteous Brothers' whiteness), they still began with the immediate advantage of privilege.

And they have never fully released this privilege, placing their actions in awkward juxtaposition. An example: Right as the Projekt Revolution tour closed, Way married Lyn Z of Mindless Self-Indulgence. After a tour culminating in imitations of same-sex oral sex on stage, Way engages in one of the most notable symbols of societal heteronormativity: legal marriage.

(The argument can be made that the emo scene is not unique but the inheritor of a trend going as far back as Fabian [though more directly from the darkwave movement], but I think I've exceeded my music nerdiness quotient for a single post.)

From the outset, Wentz acknowledges his flexibility on the spectrums of gender and sexuality. "Anybody above the waist is totally fair game." (Blender, 2007) But he does not label himself in the affirmative, only disclaiming labels others attach to him. "I would never come out and say I'm gay, because I'm not gay," Wentz says. "There's part of me that kind of wishes I was gay, and I think that comes from anybody constantly wishing they were in the minority and constantly wants to be fighting everybody off." (NPR, 2007)

But Wentz also admits to the marketing of his effeminite, "queer" turn, and others acknowledge its appeal. "I think part of it is ’cause at some point when we were doing this band I was like, “You know what? I’m going to be the most androgynous person that I can possibly be. I’m going to wear girl pants and makeup.” I looked to David Bowie, Mick Jagger, and people like that, and I was like, “That’s what’s missing in all the bands that we’re playing with right now! You need this effeminate edge.”" (Advocate, 2007)

Again, in the NPR interview in 2007, "Out Magazine's online editor, Shana Krochmal, says it's a good way to get girls and make a statement about yourself.

"Fall Out Boy isn't alone in figuring out that appealing to gay fans or appealing to friends of gay fans or just people who don't consider themselves homophobic is a great marketing strategy," Krochmal says."

And the reality for out queer artists to be accepted by the mainstream music industry is that they often avoid making explicitly queer songs, instead artfully dodging pronouns. Elton John's catalog is a perfect example of subliminal, cultural queerness, implied but never stated. (I have been told there is an excellent Melissa Etheridge quote on this topic, but I cannot seem to find/reference it. If anyone has a link to it, I would love to read it.)

Instead, like the Stax Records of the 60s, LGBT artists have slowly built their own supportive media focused on serving an under-served community; for a single example, see the perseverance of homo-hop in the face of the hip-hop and rap industry's rampant homophobia. However, efforts such as Sony's Music With a Twist label are both blessing and curse. One can hear worrying echoes of Motown's charm school in such statements as, "The increasing visibility of Gay America makes this the perfect time for this venture, which will provide valuable resources to LGBT artists and market their music to the mainstream as well."

So what does Wentz really wish for? The image or the reality?

Wentz, Way, and their predecessors deserve credit for being willing to cross cultural and gender boundaries and their support of the queer community. My Chemical Romance's risk in performing stage gay for the notoriously homophobic metal audience is notable and should be respected. A willing ally should never be turned away.

However, only when I see bands like FOB and MCR on something like the True Colors tour, which was hosted and headlined by a supportive straight artist and benefited the Human Rights Campaign, will my skepticism be assuaged. Anyone can piss off, offend, and/or yell at an asshole (and should), but it takes work to do an entire benefit tour for the rights of LGBT folks across America.

So these two histories run parallel: identity, subversion, and expression become part of the marketing. Paul Butterfield, the Righteous Brothers, and numerous other "blue-eyed soul" and white blues acts started playing because they loved the art of blues, and recognized and celebrated the brilliance of people like Muddy Waters. But their use of traditionally black-dominated music forms, along with Motown's concerted assimilation, later lead to exploitation. After all, a young audience's preference for blues was questionable, but liking it was "the groovy thing to do."

And every time I consider bands who perform stage gay, I see the same future exploitation. Would people have come to accept queerness in music without FOB or MCR, just like people came to recognize the huge impact blues has had on American music? Yes. Do they help speed it up, though? Most certainly.

But the machine (of the music industry, pop culture, take your pick) is the machine, and it grinds on whether any single person likes it or not. One needs only look at t.A.T.u for a fine example of exploitation, and the sincerity of any one artist can be argued in circles with limited relevance and usefulness. As far as I'm concerned when it comes to stage gay, you put all of your energy where your mouth is and acknowledge the concerns and sensitivities of others or stop claiming to be some new revolution. To quote the Ramones, "Second verse, same at the first."

To wrap up: Shaw ends his section on white blues artists with, "Surely, sitting-in is not an equivalent of living-in." (153) I have a modern, personal update: "Surely, dressing-up is not an equivalent of living-up."

I'm happy that Gerard Way achieved a new perspective when he spent his day in drag. I'm even happy he believed in his own hotness. But as a transmasculine genderqueer individual, I take exception to the thought that experiencing the world in drag somehow insinuates understanding and insight on how I view and relate to the world's gender binary.