It's Clapton, BITCH

A little while ago, I had the fortunate pleasure of seeing Jeff Beck and Eric Clapton in concert. To say the least, it was an experience. Such pioneers in the music scene live and right there in my face was just incredible. The show did lack some iconic songs, such as "Layla," but was nonetheless a fabulous show and performance. I by no means left the Garden with a lack of musical satisfaction and elation.

But the musical euphoria was interrupted on my way out by a woman who I can only nickname as Clapton BITCH. This may seem harsh and callous, but she was a bitch. She was a perfectly stereotypical ditz. Fake blonde hair, fake boobs, obviously fake Coach purse, corn-chip nail tips (not really, but hideously fake), heels so high and uncomfortable she had that very noticeable I-have-to-lean-forward-to-attempt-to-walk-because-if-I-don't-I-know-I-won't-make-it-anywhere waddle, etc. And the man she was with was this big, rugged, tough looking guy who just kept a completely blank face the whole time she was bitching at him.

And she would NOT stop BITCHING at this poor man! He clearly dished out a LOT of money for probably the biggest show in all of Manhattan that night, and she was standing there, endlessly complaining about it! Talk about ungrateful. She kept insisting Clapton should have played more acoustic songs. He opened with about five or six consecutive ones. She bitched that he didn't play "Layla." Okay, well he has SO MANY hits, he's bound to not play ONE of them. She proceeded to say Clapton played "too much of that new shit." Well, lady, he is touring NOW and not THEN. "Jeff Beck shouldn't have stayed on as long as he did. And there was NO reason for him to come out again at the end and stay for so many songs!!" Ma'am, he was the opening act and played an appropriate number of songs as such. He came out at the end to play with Clapton because they got their starts with each other. Without each other, without the Yardbirds, neither of them would be where they are now. And the best part, she left off with this gem:
"Next time, we should go see 'WICKED!!'"
Complete with jazz hands and all.

I wanted to scream. Okay, yes, I have seen 'Wicked;' yes, it was a good show. But not crazy great, as many critics had led me to believe it would've been. I can appreciate Broadway very much--I have substantial experience in acting and I can absolutely cherish all the work and dedication every individual show takes. ...but does a popular Broadway show about teenage acceptance and fairy tales and love and cheesy shit really outrank Eric Clapton?? Seriously? Come on, lady.

Where have our values gone? We don't cherish the pioneers, the raw talent that created so many followers and grew so many branches of variations, the very men who shaped so much of music that today would not be the same had they not done what they did. Instead, we cherish make-up, fancy dresses, and splendor. So I guess this post is turning into a "oh, the superficiality of it all!" one. In all seriousness, this woman exemplified superficiality to me. From her appearance to her tastes, all of which she showed me in a matter of seconds, this woman was trash to me.

Call me a bitch for being so judgmental of her, but honestly. When someone conforms THAT much to societies pressures and stereotypes, something HAS to be wrong. Be it a lack of confidence, a personal image issue, a superiority complex, whatever, no one is naturally like this. No one naturally thinks those huge fake nails actually look good. No one thinks their platinum blonde hair looks real, especially when their roots are showing a deep brown. No one thinks that a Coach bag with only backward "C"'s looks authentic. No one can say and believe that an Eric Clapton concert was a waste of time and money. She is the epitome of conformation. She believes "all you need are looks and a whole lot of money." She thinks that bigger boobs are better, blonde is prettier, those shoes flatter her, the purse makes her look fancy, and loud-mouthing her bashing opinions of Clapton to all the people herding out of the arena will make her stand out and be intellectual and different and smart and superior. Wrong. SO WRONG! You look fake, handicapped, stupid, and just plain pathetic.

So, I suppose the motivational, activist message of this all is to just stop. Stop valuing lame shit that everyone else says you should value because it's popular right now, at this moment. Stop glorifying the sparkling, glittered, beautified stuff and glorify the ground-breakers, the innovators, the milestones. Stop conforming to societal pressures regarding your physical appearance and if you truly want to change yourself, do it in a way that YOU WANT and that will compliment you, not the way that you see on TV. Stop dissing men who may very well be past their prime but are still extremely capable and still ridiculously talented and still deserve nothing less than respect for their incredible accomplishments. Dig in, get down and dirty, and value the roots of today's foliage.

I apologize for this post being more emotionally driven and less artistic and well-written. A bit of a rant, yes. A bit of a commentary on modern society, yes. A denunciation of superficiality, yes. A judgment call, yes. A statement on musical legitimacy, yeah. But was it my honest opinions? Absolutely. This is my blatant, blunt truth. While "everybody's talkin' 'bout the new sound," "it's still rock n' roll to me."

Clapton, you had a brilliant show.
The A.S.S.


Disclaimer: As is the case with everyone, my judgments are not always accurate, and I am not claiming them to be. At that very same concert, a bassist came out to play with Jeff Beck. She was this gross looking lady with 80's hair, a leather sleeveless top, TIGHT pants, and KILLER heels. My first reaction (before I saw those BALLER heels) was "dyke," no joke. Yes, offensive, but I'm sure many people would've thought the same. Then she started playing. And she fucking ROCKED that whole arena. She was amazing! One of the best bassists I've ever seen! She absolutely blew me away. Her name is Rhonda Smith, for the record, and she's boss.