On Being a Rock Star.

The following is taken from a review of a recent Ashlee Simpson concert in Richmond:

"Luckily for Ashlee Simpson, her fans don't care about things such as nose jobs and tabloid gossip and, you know, talent. The newly blonde pop starlet made her first Richmond appearance last night.

Let's graciously call it a just-push-play show. No, not in that way. She did sing. Or something like it, anyway. But what Simpson presented for about 80-minutes was nothing more than an extremely well-orchestrated illusion.

Opening with the rock-leaning "I Am Me," the title track of her current album, Simpson screeched the "I won't change for anyone" chorus while bouncing on scary-skinny legs and flailing her arms like a very motivated P.E. instructor.

It's ironic that so many of her songs speak to her young demographic with bravely honest and heartfelt lyrics about finding your own idntity ("Shadow") and accepting imperfections ("Autobiography"). What do we call that again? Ah, right. Hypocrisy.

But even with her two hopefully well-paid backup singers following her on the verses as well as the choruses, Simpson has no voice to control.

She yelled most of "Boyfriend," "Nothing New" and "Coming Back For More" and sang "Burnin' Up" in a key not found on any recognizable scale. A reasonable musical facsimile of The Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" was distorted by Simpson's too-low singing, but really, isn't it silly for such a lightweight to try to emulate the phenomenal Annie Lennox?

Although Simpson, 21, undoubtedly connected with her fans thorough her perky camp counselor demeanor, there was never an indication that this was anything more than another quick paycheck. Most of her robotic segues began with, "This next song . . . ."

Hopefully Simpson appreciated the sizable turnout, considering she played for fewer than 700 people Sunday in Portsmouth. Sometimes, it seems, stardom can't be fabricated, no matter how perfectly the puppet strings are manipulated."

There are a few reasons I post with this review. Firstly, if you didn't know already, Ashlee Simpson is a ridiculous douche bag. I love that she gets ripped to shreds in reviews. Maybe I wouldn't mind if she were at least ENTERTAINING and CLEVER, but from what I have seen of her overexposed self on TV in the past, she is neither. She comes off as retardedly shy and humble but is actually those things in a very obviously fake way. The more people realize this, the better chance we all have of her completely losing it one day. After viewing her drunken late night antics at McDonalds, I have a feeling if/when she does, it will be incredibly entertaining.

Secondly, I aspire to be the female equivalent of Freddy Mercury. (I know, he already kind of took care of that himself. By laws of reciprocation, being the female equivalent would mean looking a little like a dude, see below.) I would love, LOVE, to sing for a rock band and it upsets me when 1)people with barely more talent than I have get to do it 2) said people don't appreciate their position and waste the opportunity to entertain the masses with shit like "this next song blah blah blah," and it moves me to think about my future as rock star.
Androgyny is the new Hyper Sexuality


Due to my financial situation, I hardly ever make it out to rock concerts. And when I do, I'm usually terribly disappointed. I get it rock stars, you can sing very well. The question is, what else?

It seems that there are two kinds of bands, those who don't stop rocking to chat, and those who do. I've seen excellent examples of both. I saw a White Stripes concert last summer that absolutely blew me away. There were very few segue's in the entirety of the evening, which was fine, it left a lot of time for rocking. I was also lucky enough to see Ten D randomly a few years ago, those bitches put on a silly fucking show.

If I were in a rock band, I would fucking tear your shit up. Trust me on this. I know what you're thinking, "how would you tear my shit up exactly?" There are several ways:

1) If you are one of those idiots who is all self conscious and stands with your idiot arms crossed in lieu of dancing, I would rock you hard enough to get over it. In fact, if I saw you trying to pull that shit, I wouldn't stop staring at you until you moved your feet. I would fucking give you a dance lesson during the show, and you would love it. This is all because I want to make you feel good, real good, and I understand that as host and guide to your rock experience, it is my duty to rock you for the entire time. It's not about me, it's about you. Ashlee and others do not seem to comprehend this key point.

2) If I did chat with you in between songs, I would not waste your time. I have a BFA degree in silly randomitity, and have no problem showcasing said art. There is no topic that I cannot talk about for twenty minutes, and I would only need about 2 minutes, MAX. Imagine what that means! Cramming twenty minutes into 2? That's like a pressure cooker of hilarity. Trust me, it would explode to your delight at all the right times.

3) I would channel all the history of rock through my psychic prowess and take you to worlds that you didn't think existed anymore. Very motivated P.E. instructor? Nonono, Try Dominatrix meets Flo Jo meets ...Carrot Top? (He's retarded, I know, but he's got balls for being so loudly and unapologetically stupid.)

There is only one tiny problem with all of this. I can't sing like a rock star. I wasn't born with those vocal capabilities. I'm pretty sure that I've got at least Ashlee Simpson talent, but as we've read, that's just not enough. Sadly, in order to back up all the previous garuntees, one needs the modern day talent of a Kelly Clarkson or Jill Scott. Those ladies can WAIL. Without the vocal talent, I would end up being just a mildly more entertaining Ashlee Simpson.

For now, until I can afford a vocal chord transplant, I could settle for rocking a tambourine. I'm pretty sure I could do most of the above just by workin' it on the side. I think I read somewhere that's how Janis Joplin started out. I believe that book was titled, "Megan's Abbreviated Version of the History of Female Rock Stars."

I'll be honest, it was a quick read.