So I met a young gentleman the other night at a late-night dance party. (Fine...it was a rave. Sue me.) He seemed like a cool dude, and not terrible looking. So, of course, I started babbling. And when the conversation turned to music, I was all in. (Truth be told, I can talk about music for hours, to anyone. So I had a lot to say. And there's no "off switch.")
Anywho, I was chatting him up about the band playing at Saint Rocke this Friday: PARTICLE.
"They are effing rad. Electronic, jammy, psychadelic light show, 3 hour
set...They are the real deal, and I am ridiculously stoked!!"
The gentleman seemed somewhat interested, but then he laughed and asked, "Who are you, their GROUPIE?"
I stopped and stared blankly, like I was just punched in the face...."Huh?"
add insult to injury, he went on a tangent to explain to me what a
"Groupie" was. In detail. For about 20 minutes. As though I've never
heard that term before. Wow.
I let him finish his rant about the Penny Lanes of the world who follow bands around like lost puppies....
And then I stepped on my soap box and really let him have it. Firing an arsenal of verbal bullets, left and right.
"For a female who has been in the music industry for 11 years,
booking, marketing, and managing bands, and now a music venue, I take
serious offense to that word. It sets women back decades. The fact I'm
telling you about an awesome band, means simply: they're awesome. You
should give them a listen. It does not imply that I follow them around
and make out with them after the show. I make sure the show goes well
because that's my job. I'm proud of what I do. And I'm proud to be a
woman who rocks."
He was stunned silent. So, naturally, I kept going.
I started listing famous women musicians of the world. One of whom is playing at Saint Rocke on WEDNESDAY NIGHT: Lita Ford.
She's one baddass chica. (tix and info: saintrocke.com.) I was naming the
women I idolize. The women who paved the way for all females
struggling to make their way in a male dominated industry.
should probably just remove that from your vocabulary altogether. If
not, I can personally guarantee that you will never get my phone number.
And you'll never see me again. In short: I'd rather be called the C
Word...than the G Word."
I was on a roll.
Once his tail was sufficiently between his legs, I shut up. He apologized. And he seemed sincere.
I gave him my number. And I might even let him take me out sometime...but not during Particle. There's no way in HELL I'm missing that show.