The Faith

This is something I stuck up on My Space many moons back. But it seems kind of topical, so I'll run with it once more.

Could this be you?

Emotions run high when someone dons a rock T-shirt these days. I’m thinking about the time I went to the friend of a friend’s nightclub, where the DJs specialise in cheesy 80's anthems and you find yourself dancing to things you think you’re too cool for. I hadn’t actually been planning to go out that night - I was drained after running a stall in Portobello Market all day - but seeing as the club’s promoter himself walked me in through the swing doors and onto a jam-packed floor of folk dancing themselves dizzy, I decided to stay. And what fun I had, still dressed to sit on that cold stall in a denim skirt, Wonderwoman boots and an AC/DC T-shirt.

The last item sparked up a conversation in the ladies’. What’s this obsession with AC/DC, a drunk Ozzie asked, the lipstick she was applying missing her gob by a mile. AC/DC were Australian - did I know that? Actually love, three of the original line-up were born in Scotland like me, so we’ll call it a draw.

And all evening folk came up and asked where I’d got my T-shirt, especially women who always have problems finding rock shirts that don’t come any smaller than beergut. All was well until I looked up to see three young men encircling me. “AC/DC, eh?” sneered one of them. Yes, I smiled. Shame the DJ hadn’t played my request for Rock n Roll Aint Noise Pollution, I was about to say, but...

“So. Have you got any of their records, then?” he said, bucked up by his mates. Yes, I do have some of their records, I replied, though I’ve had a bit of trouble getting hold of the Australian import of High Voltage. And did you see them last year at Hammy Odeon, I asked the lads. They hadn’t. Shame, I commiserated. The sound-check was phenomenal as well, and the after-show party.

That saw them off. But at least I hadn't been strip-searched!

The next day I told my friend Tina about this, who said that she could see their point. With Top Shop selling those Motorhead T-shirts and rock enjoying a renaissance, there’s bound to be a few impostors, she added.

This got me thinking. There’s Andrew, a friend to whom I lent the beanie hat I bought on the Stiff Upper Lip tour in 2000. One frosty evening he was approached by an unsavoury character who demanded if he knew anything by AC/DC, seeing as he was wearing a woolly hat with their logo on it. Luckily Andrew was able to air guitar and sing along to the opening lines of Highway to Hell, seeing as I’d had the foresight to tutor him in case this kind of thing happened. And there’s Simon who’s taken it upon himself to be one of the Undercover Rock Squad. He storms over to girls wearing those Top Shop Motorhead T-shirts and reduces them to tears when they can’t hum the Ace of Spades.

So where do we draw the line? Are these people who wear rock regalia for fashion’s sake plundering The Faith, or are we taking ourselves just a little bit too seriously? Answers on a postcard, please.