It would definately be Prince. As for the how, why, when, and where part, that would be "American Bandstand", 1979. I was in either the sixth or seventh grade, and after years of being called names like gay, queer, or fag without even knowing what the word meant, I finally found out what the word meant. However, the stereotypes that people were associating gay people with were definately not my style or tastes whatsoever.....men that were into nerdy and dorky type things like ballet, symphony, operas, or any damn thing slow and weak. Also men that could easily be overpowered and run off and cry somewhere when they got upset. I knew that even though I preferred the same sex, those weak and dull ass stereotypes didn't apply to me. I liked to throwdown, and I do mean, throwdown hard. None of that waldo type shit for me. And when I got pissed, I wasn't the type to sit up and cry about it....well, at least never in front of anyone that was provoking me. I was the type to get even if it was the last thing I did and had to die trying it.

Anyway, when I saw Prince's ass on "American Bandstand", that whore fit all the gay stereotypes as far as looks and gestures, but that bitch was definately not the dorky classical music listening, weak sissy that let people beat his ass after his violin lesson. That bitch performed a hard ass disco/funk song for his first performance and a hard rock song for his next performance. And his attitude was like he would fuck you up (or have someone fuck you up) if you even looked at him the wrong way. When I saw that mean ass hard jammin' bitch, I said "that's me there".

Imago said:

My Gran would've HATED you.

chocolate1 said:


My love of Rick lasted all the way to the end! "Deeper Still" had 2 grow on me, but I love me some Rick!

Prince
Chaka Khan
Erykah Badu

Rick is my second favorite artist but "Deeper Still" never grew on me and probably never will. If Rick were alive today, I would snatch his wig off his head for that one.

So, Springsteen is coming back to Vegas for the second time, and I don't feel like he's sold out at all. It'll be a great show. I saw him at Madison Square Garden a couple years ago. I hadn't seen him for a long while. My friend Max Weinberg invited me to go, and I figured, what the hell? I went casually, I didn't really care. I'm embarrassed by that. It's a really jaded, stupid way to go to a concert. It's not fair to not care; it's not right. The tickets were really hard to get, and there are so many people who so want to be there, why would a person like me, who didn't care, take up space on that special night? But I went. And I sure didn't stay jaded for long. Damn, he was just as good as he ever was, and that's about as good as anyone gets.

It's hard to remember how good he is, because he's so one of us. He's only special in being so good at not being special. He's not the anti-social-outlaw rock 'n' roll; he's good-guy rock 'n' roll. He's everything that's good about all of us, rocking. As he sang, I screamed along every lyric. I danced. I cried about friends and family I had lost. I cried about lost love. I was hopeful for future love. I danced for the whole show. I was crying and dancing. I agreed with every word he sang. I was really one with all of those people at Madison Square Garden, and that's really amazing because I am a real creep. I have many deep political, social, moral, ethical and stylistic differences with the people around me at a Springsteen concert. But Springsteen makes those differences unimportant. We were all born to run in the USA. We were all dancing in the dark. And we all wanted Rosalita to jump a little lighter. He can make ME feel just like everyone else and like it.

- Penn Gillette, 2002.

Why?


How?


When?



I was 14. I was living a pleasant, if mediocre , existence in a small, rundown, well-past-its'-prime town in the back of beyond. Probably the most exciting thing there was going to 'The Pop Shop' - a sweet/candy shop run by a 104 year old woman - who used to sell you 1p, 2p, 5p, 10p and 20p 'glasses' of pop/soda out of used, donated yoghurt cartons. Yeah, I know - weird - but nothing ever happened, it seems. Until I discovered The B-52's.


I remember walking into HMV and seeing the 'Cosmic Thing' album cover. 'Love Shack' had just been released and I loved the single but... up until then, I had never heard of them. Or I wasn't familiar with them. They were just 'some band' on the radio. However, clapping my eyes on that wonderful, colourful, vibrant album cover... something grabbed me. Something drew me in. I *had* to have it. I had no idea how much that album would change my life.


As long as I remember, there was always music - of some sort - in my family. On weekends, my sister and I would run into my parents' bedroom and sing stupid songs at the foot of their bed. My parents played music constantly. Yet, until my early teens, I never had my own musical 'identity'. Nothing that defined ME. Nothing that spoke to me, nothing that I understood instictively. When I bought 'Cosmic Thing', it was game over.


If you want to bring the house down - play 'Cosmic Thing'. If you want no-brainer - yet intelligent, instinctive - party music... play 'Cosmic Thing'. If you want luscious, sunkissed harmonies, sexy grooves and a laidback Summer vibe... play 'Cosmic Thing'. I still remember being a choirboy, standing in the choir stalls, and having the 'Dry County' motif going round and round in my head, endlessly... It drove me mad. Yet I couldn't wait to get home and stick my tape on, drift away and zone out. And every single song... I would wait with anticipation.


I cannot tell you how much I love this band. Or how much they spoke to me, comforted me, rocked me and warmed me growing up. How much I *still* love them. Or how I felt like the lone fan, the only person that understood them, and their aesthetic, as a teenager. Or, at least, knew no-one who remotely liked them as much as I did.


Last week, I achieved one of my ambitions... and now I can die happy. Sad, stupid or deluded as it may seem , I *finally* got to see The B-52's live. I was 14 all over again. I have waited literally over half my life to see this band and I may never, ever see them again. I danced, jumped, shouted and sang my ass off. I managed to get a setlist! And left that gig desperately wanting to hear more. One of *the* best gigs I have ever seen.


So... as a tribute to them, and that night, here's a clip:










Anyway, I don't expect many responses , but what, when and how did you fall in love with the band that changed your life? That you gave up on years ago, maybe? A fleeting romance? Or one that you still have to do this day?






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[Edited 7/30/08 13:59pm]

Good idea for a thread and very nice opening post. Bravo ONA.

Musta been around '72 or so. I got tix for Little Feat at the Auditorium Theater in Chicago which has great acoustics by the way.

We had great seats in what was called The Dress Circle, right down in front and center.

Although there had been no opening act advertised, we were treated to a band called Osibisa.

I'd never been exposed to African music before at least not played by real Africans.

OMG!This was a transcendent experience. These guys were pure happiness expressing through their music.

I hardly know how to write about it. The music was sooo different to what my 24 year old ears were used to.

Well maybe the music itself was not so different- there were the familiar drums and bass and guitar and keyboards and horns - but the place the musicians were coming from was way different.

I mean, yes, there were songs, but the songs seemed more like an a excuse to be happy rather than show off your songwriting skills.

The whole set was great but it was during the percussion breakdowns that they really got me for the rest of my life.

Every player was a virtuoso percussionist and on quite a few songs they would all put their regular axes down and pick up some kind of shaker or bell or things I'd never seen before and just go to town for 5 or 10 minutes.

It was like they were a soccer team standing around in a practice circle and just hackeysacking the beat back and forth between them. Unbelievable.

You could almost see the beat as if it were an object in space. Of course they were all playing ensemble but one guy would be soloing over the top of it all and coaxing sounds from his instrument that were just mind blowingly unique and complex.

When he was about to finish his piece you could see all the other guys intently focussing on him in anticipation as if to say, "toss it to me, toss it to me."

And then you would see the soloist nod to another member like, "OK, mister log drummer or mister jembe player, or mister cowbell man, it's yours" and boom, the next guy would be seamlessly off with it and making our jaws drop with their skill level.

And maybe that's the thing I think was most impressive and captivating - the skill level. It was on a whole other level.

These guys didn't ever take lessons to become musicians, they were born into a long heritage that goes back generations that as you learn to walk you learn to drum becasuse its so much a part of your culture.

They aren't musicians in the normal sense that we think about. They ARE the music itself. They ARE the drumming. Its so natural it just pours out of them effortlessly.

And all the while just beaming with love and happiness for the music each other and the auidence.

That's the translation of Osibisa- criss cross rhythms that explode with happiness.

So a whole world was opened to me that night and now I have tons of African music in my collection and always go to Africn shows whenever they're near.

Here is a video that has shitty sound but captures the spirit:



And here's one that captures a little bit of the real percussion break shit after around 2 minutes into the vid. Notice how they copped the Isley Brothers Fight the Power bassline and turned it into a somg called Making Everybody Happy. Enjoy! and see 'em if you ever get the chance:


[Edited 7/30/08 17:28pm]

It's corny but, when I was in like 8th grade (1998) my then best friend Rachel had just started listening to modern rock music as well as the usual R&B/hip-hop/pop and she was the first black person I knew that was digging what my other friends had always called "white music"

I always credit her for opening my mind to the big wide world of music, and diversity and the two albums we'd always be jamming to were

Garbage's Version 2.0 and Incubus' Make Yourself

these were like my gateway albums leading me to listen to and appreciate just about every genre out there...

Also in 2001 my brother made me a copy of Prince's Hits (1&2)
which lead me to my Prince obsession which ultimately brought me here, where I've learned more about music than I could have ever imagined