When I Grow Up I Want To Be An Old Bigot: The Career Suicide Of Michelle Shocked

Michelle Shocked hates fags.

To be completely honest, before I saw her live last year, I assumed that Michelle Shocked was gay. During the live show, she referenced her ex-husband, but the weirdest thing was how she incorporated her current boyfriend into the performance-via her cell phone.

“She’s straight?” I thought to myself as she spoke of her partners.

But as she continued-which was quite often, as her performances are filled with personal antidotes and lefty dogma-I noticed something more confounding than her sexuality.

Michelle Shocked is a very strange woman.

My review of her performance was complementary, and the wake of her show brought back some very fond memories of her catalog. I will carry the memories of that night in a very positive manner, particularly the part where I didn’t get charged to attend.

One thing the review doesn’t reflect all that well was how weird the show was. It was a rather intimate setting (the performance space at the CSPS hall only holds about 200 seats) and Michelle took full advantage of that intimacy.

She lobbied the audience for discussions on the Occupy movement, particularly in regards to predatory lending and how little has changed since the economic collapse.

She also called her boyfriend.

I can’t help but dwell on it, because it was such a surreal experience. I saw nothing regarding her Christianity (which I did learn about after the show, but before her recent controversy), but what I saw instead was an almost obsessive devotion to the man on the other end of the cell phone.

Shocked incorporated the bit into her material, explaining that it was her boyfriend-artist David Willardson-who created the artwork that hung behind her that evening, which helped inspire her latest material.

Fair enough, but she then continued with the call all the way through the intermission, hanging up, literally, as she walked on stage for the second set.

Who does that?

The second set began with a choppy love letter to the Occupy movement, a spiel that evolved into a losing attempt at engaging the audience in a political dialogue, before realizing that the crowd that remained at the venue for that second set just wanted to hear “Anchorage.”

Yes, a large portion of the audience left after the first set, perhaps due to other obligations or perhaps because they were weirded out by Michelle’s incessant yammering, or the fact that she put a microphone up to her cell phone so that we could listen to her boyfriend talk.

I have no idea if they’re still together, but I do know that a large portion of her audience is no longer with her, particularly since so many of her audience related to her-right or wrong-as an advocate for LGBT causes.

There was certainly no hint of the kind of hatred she dished out this week at a show in San Francisco, but there were hints of some kind of instability. Despite her small frame, Shocked can be an intimidating presence, and some of that is due to the fact that she often doesn’t appear to have that filter that most of us possess, the one that knows when to put on the brakes at certain points, and when to shut the fuck up at others.

That fearlessness is part of her appeal, and her outspokenness certainly provided her with a sense of legitimacy when it came down to the kind of music she’s known for and the audience that coddles her. The sudden outburst is most certainly a characteristic of her persona, but the two points that she brought to the stage-her Christian beliefs and their influence towards her views on homosexuality-were nothing that her San Francisco fans were expecting or wanted to hear.

The shock that she isn’t a lesbian has become a common response immediately before everything turns red and Michelle Shocked is the worst person on the planet. There are those who question-and I’ll confess to being somewhat intrigued by this theory-the legitimacy of her heterosexuality and cite her vitriolic discussion of homosexuality as a self-hating projection of her own suppressed sexual preference.

More than anything, this incident brought me immediately back to the uncomfortable feeling that I had during some moments of the performance I saw last year. It reminded me of that vague suspicion that there is glaring moments of Michelle Shocked personality that suggests something is chemically wrong with her.

This isn’t the misogynist “that bitch is crazy” knee-jerk reaction, but instead it is a reasonable suggestion to why anyone who is smart enough to understand 1.) That you audience features a proportionally large section of homosexuals, 2.) The power of the internet and social media is swift, universal and permanent, 3.) That Jesus Christ was perhaps the most tolerant motherfucker to walk the planet, 4.) Your entire career is dependant on your ability to tour and 5.) The fucking gig is in San Francisco.

Sure, Shocked may think her credibility with her LGBT audience entitles her to milk the free-speech thing all the way to the point of yelling “Fire” in a Hamburger Mary’s, but the reality is that a sane person doesn’t go to their job and start blurting out shit that can be perceived as mean, hateful and offensive.

That’s what I mean by “chemically wrong.”

And that’s where I go to the fact that a large portion of American musicians go without health care, forgoing medical care and preventative treatment. Could it be that we are watching the results of medication being missed or that the power of the Holy Spirit has convinced Ms. Shocked that there’s no need for those pills any more.

So far, Michelle has chosen to almost manically respond to certain Twitter haters individually, promising a full explanation of the event in a scheduled interview this Friday.

A common theme in some of her tweets is the suggestion that a media campaign is underway to throw her under the proverbial bus, but again, Shocked is not stupid. When you encourage your crowd to tweet “Michelle Shocked said God Hates Fags” did you not think there would be repercussions.

If we are witnessing a woman that is experiencing a chemically induced crisis, the upcoming interview will certainly cause more harm than good. There will be a misguided attempt at trying to explain the outburst in biblical terms. By referring to the Bible or her own personal faith will only reinforce the perception that Shocked is yet another crazed Christian, the same kind of crazy that superglues the locks to Planned Parenthood or makes signs that read “God Hates Fags.”

No, unless this interview is a heartfelt confessional, one that acknowledges a tolerance towards the LGBT community and clearly explains the design of such an outburst, we will be witnessing someone rambling on without that aforementioned filter. The same one that is needed more than anything, to stop this attempt at career suicide.

Because make no mistake, this is career ending stuff. If you want your entire musical legacy to be remembered for one ill-advised moment where the letters “STFU” should have been tattooed on to your skin, then here it is.

There’s no defending something like this, and the entire media circus surrounding the incident was Shocked’s own creation. She panicked and clammed up. Then she bit back. And now she is biding for time, something that may suggest a long-winded manifesto is in the making.

Her response should be quick, honest and apologetic. They need to be, if she ever plans on drawing any resemblance of a support group again. Because, while running away from the ghosts of East Texas has provide Michelle Shocked a nice career so far, running from her own redemption will not give her very more places to go.

 Update to include Shocked's most recent statement.

15 Years After The Death Of Michael Hutchence

"Don't Let Your Pain Take Over You"

It’s strange how certain times of the year conjure up memories of an untimely rock and roll death.

For example, every Christmas season I’m reminded of the assassination of John Lennon. I received a copy of Double Fantasy for Christmas that year and remember how quiet it got for just a few moments when I unwrapped the present. The hush was an unscripted act of respect as it acknowledged the artist’s impact, the tragedy of his loss and how his murder deeply moved me, a fourteen-year-old kid who never experienced Beatlemania firsthand.

There’s another tragedy that’s even closer to Christ’s birth: the untimely passing of Joe Strummer. It’ll be ten years ago this Christmas, which is just a lifetime if you ask me. We could have really used a man like Joe to counterbalance the Bush years, and especially now, just to put some perspective on the entire 99% occupy movement (sorry, Michelle Shocked).

There’s the April Fool’s vibe of Kurt Cobain’s suicide, which rendered me a bit harder when getting too emotionally attached to a performer or musician. I no longer get as smitten with an artist I admire since that tragedy, and maybe that’s a good thing.

As we approach Thanksgiving here in America, there’s another artist passing that I’m reminded of. Perhaps it’s a bit overlooked, because pop music is itself made for immediate consumption and, by nature, doesn’t possess a very long shelf life.

But to me, the band INXS was a bit more than a typical pop band, and their lead singer was a bit more than a typical pop star.

We’ll reach the 15^th anniversary of the passing of Michael Hutchence this month, and I’m willing to bet that we’ll hear very little about it this year, or in five years, or ten.

It’s because his death came during the decline of INXS, and it came after a half-assed comeback attempt where the songs still weren’t all the way there and the prospect of recapturing something that would bring the band back into the mainstream radar seemed highly unlikely to begin with.

A taste of that reality came during Michael’s presentation of Oasis with an award of Best New Video during the 1996 BRIT awards. Liam Gallagher joked when Hutchence gave him a peck on the cheek after meeting on stage, but his brother Noel was not as cordial. After admonishing the audience that he was now wealthier than they were, he saved his parting slam for the presenter himself: “Has-beens shouldn’t be presenting awards to gonna be’s.”

Time would eventually turn its cruel face to Oasis, but for Michael, time was something he was running out of much sooner.

He never fulfilled the promise of regaining the charts again, and he never experienced the cash flow that would have been provided on the oldies circuit. I say that without a hint of sarcasm, because I would have loved to see INXS at any capacity, any venue, and any point in their career. They were good enough to work as a well-oiled machine and Hutchence was the type of frontman who doesn’t come around very often.

I gave them up on Listen Like Thieves, and I watched as the friends who’d never heard The Swing suddenly bought up copies of Kick, leveraging the band into heights only reserved for music’s elite.

I lost further ground with X and Welcome To Wherever You Are, but they were constantly played at the radio station I was working.

Mark Opitz came back in the producers role for Full Moon Dirty Hearts, his first since spinning the knobs of Shabooh Shoobah. The album was ignored by fans and criticized by the press, but I liked it.

I missed the album Elegantly Wasted and Michael’s solo album entirely, but I was thrown for a loop when they announced that he died. Then came the back story, and the entire auto-asphyxiation controversy, neither of which were too flattering for the pop star.

Someone lying around here is a well worn VHS copy of Dogs In Space, Hutchence’s only starring role in a very weak, yet strangely compelling film about a punk band from Melborne set in the late 70’s. It’s where I first heard about Nick Cave and Iggy Pop’s Soldier album, thanks to the movie’s hard to find soundtrack.

Hutchence played the drug-addled lead singer, and his lack of any real dialogue didn’t matter. When he was on screen, your eyes were drawn to him.

Within a year, he’d be in the stratosphere, and within another 10 he’d be dead.

Hard to believe that it’s been almost as long since his death as it was when he was in the band. And the years that pass seem to turn him into a distant memory. The fact that the rest of INXS decided to use the name to parlay it into a brief reality show hasn’t helped either.

The reality is that INXS was better than a quick, final grab at notoriety.

With the 15^th anniversary of the passing of Michael Hutchence, the band should now renew their focus on maintaining their vastly underrated catalog of pop-rock gems with more dignity to their shared legacy.

Michelle Shocked Live At The CSPS Hall

Michelle Shocked

Live at the CSPS Hall, Cedar Rapids, IA

Monday, May 14, 2012

It has been nearly a quarter-century since Michelle Shocked has been on my radar, and I imagine for many fans, fair-weather though we may be, Short Sharp Shocked remains as their first and only foray into her body of work.

But Ms. Shocked’s sophomore record is such a significant release that even after 25 years, I am still interested on where her troubadour Converse All-Stars has taken her. So when Michelle stopped by my community on Monday night, I determined that “Anchorage” was a brilliant left-field smash that required me to attend.

Dressed in those black high tops, Michelle shows some of the age of the years in her face, but her body bounds around like the youthful version. And the fight is still there: white t-shirt, tight black jeans, an old Bob Dylan conductor hat, and a red bandana around her neck with the word “Occupied” prominently printed across the front. She came prepared to talk some dialogue about the 99% movement-a cause, which got her, arrested during a protest in Los Angeles last November (she told the pigs her name was Michelle 99)-but thankfully she brought an acoustic guitar on Monday night and someone left behind a nice piano for her to play around with, making the evening more than just a political event.

On that second effort, Michelle is seen being choked by someone ironically hired to serve and protect on the cover of Short Sharp Shocked. He did neither in Michelle’s case, but the startling image makes it one of the most powerful covers in the past quarter-century, and her East Texas ease belies a strong woman who can back up her convictions with potent words and intimidating vocal range.

The performance took place in the CSPS Hall, a century old structure next to an old firehouse, both of which took on extensive damage from the 2008 flood. Finally, some life is coming to the downtown area in between pockets of unrecovered devastation and an obvious appearance that something indeed ran clean over the landscape.

This was my first visit to the restored center, which features a nice stage in an auditorium upstairs, perfect for artists who may not be familiar that there is a market for this out in the heartland.

For Shocked, she nearly filled the area, but the layout was very informal and Michelle used a platform in front of the stage for her acoustic set, bringing her even closer to the audience. I got there late, and as I was being hushed over to a seat, I noticed that she had captured about a half-dozen patrons from the audience and was wrapping up an impromptu version of “This Land Is Your Land.”

I wasn’t prepared for an evening of Woody or audience participation (more on that later), but being blessed with perfect timing, she set on to a set of obligatory favorites, most of which came from Short Sharp Shocked.

Shocked provided an update to “Leroy” and his wife from “Anchorage,” with the narrator now a grandmother and Leroy’s job bringing them down to Montana. Shocked mentioned that she drove from their place in Billings to then drive to Omaha and then  to Cedar Rapids, treating the couple as if they were long-lost friends of us in the audience, which they were in a way. “I look like an old housewife,” admitted Shocked during the song’s sudden self-realization.

I couldn’t help but thinking that, for all of her talk of turning 50 and growing old, Michelle Shocked is still doing things her way and does not seem one to bow to authoritative demands. That’s probably farther from the truth for most people who age, some who even must be taking steps of complacency as they approach what’s left of their retirement.

There were some moments of nostalgia, thinking back on the guy who stood her up at senior prom and adding a few licks towards the backwoods culture she calls her leveling point. But there was no condescending tone and she seemed to bend over backwards for us to sing along, and to engage when the discussion turned to foreclosure or what the occupy moment stood for.

Just when you felt that you had your fill of progressive dogma, Shocked announced that she’d be back to lead a brief forum on the topic, after she called her boyfriend on the phone and played three new songs before the intermission.

No joke. Shocked grabbed her phone and called her boyfriend David Willardson just as she sat down to the piano where she began explaining the large portraits behind her. Each one began as a painting by David, followed by an incredible muse they created over Michelle, which in turn created the song. At first, the entire “hold the phone up to the microphone” bit got somewhat uncomfortable. After a while, Willardson on the other end just became another character in the community, offering a few insights to the painting while Shocked gave her musical rendition. She had high praise for Mr. Willardson, even suggesting (with him still on the phone) that she was expecting to be married by the end of the year, a decision she made while hearing the refrain of a sermon in her head, encouraging her to do the right thing with her relationship.

With the intermission ending, Shocked continued talking to David on the phone before ending the call and leading the now reduced crowd on a discussion of the Occupy movement. For those that were left, if I may use profiling tactics, none of them looked like the housing crisis took much out of them, and indeed, which Shocked pressed the crowd for personal accounts, no one raised their hand to testify.

Shocked quickly got the sense that it may be our polite Midwestern demeanor, but I think that none of those in attendance had anything to add to the discussion, even when most seemed to be in perfect harmony with her progressive ideals.

You could tell that the momentum she was trying to muster up was merely glossing over the fans that stayed to hear just a few more songs and a few more tales of East Texas.

For me, the moment came during “Graffiti Limbo,” another Short Sharp Shocked tracks, this time extended and with bonus footage. “You wanna hear the long version or the edit?” she asked, leading the audience to naturally respond for the former. What we learned was that the evidence the corner lost in this 1988 account of the death of graffiti artist Michael Stewart, was in fact Michael’s eyes.

The original song only suggested something was lost, but the retelling plays up the ”justice is blind” irony of this case that never did find the accuser.

“To serve and protect.”

It was a pretty poetic moment, if you let the words sink in a bit. You may have even found a correlation between the content and what happened in our town just a few days prior, when a man was placed in the back of a Cedar Rapids squad car and was unresponsive when he arrived at the jail.

His family just made the decision to take him off life support.

This kind of thing makes me grateful that Shocked is still out their raising a stink. It’s reassuring to know as well that her stink still sounds pretty good. The new songs found an emotional depth and a sense of challenging herself by adhering to a new idea of combining song-cycles with her boyfriend’s work, even adding more musicians to the process for an entire piece.

But even armed with just an acoustic guitar and that underrated voice, Shocked can hold her own quite well and would be the first to admit that all of this is “Just one woman’s opinion.”