robbie williams

September 23, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 32 – I Will Talk And Hollywood Will Listen

Man, I can already see this post going south and I have barely written a word. I will warn you in advance this is going to get pretty bleak. Just because the subject matter is bittersweet. So, if you don’t want to dive into your weekend with a rain cloud I suggest finding some other worthwhile reading material. It certainly isn’t here.

I had debated on what song to use for this topic. Originally, the one included, was what brought up the discussion, but when I started to outline ideas in my head there was another that was more topical. My back-up song was “Dying in LA.” That one seemed to embody more of the overall tone of the post, but the song is a real downer. Which is probably why I love it so much. I do love to bum myself out. While I will not include it in the post, I do recommend giving it a listen. The symmetry of the lyrics is so well done. It’s truly a masterpiece in song writing.

Robbie’s songs, written with Guy Chambers, always hit a nerve with me. In a good way. Their collaborations are always top of my list, and rarely, if ever, do I dislike a single track. I was bummed when they stopped working together. Robbie’s hits got few and far between for me. They lacked something extra. They were missing the Guy sound that I thoroughly enjoy. Even now, the albums he completed with Guy I listen to from beginning to end, no skips. Later releases don’t come with that level of dedication.

I was ecstatic to learn that the two wrote a musical together based on the book of the same name “The Boy in the Dress.” Unfortunately it debuted right before Covid and I’m afraid that may have destroyed it’s chances of being notable. I still haven’t given the soundtrack a listen, but that is because I have this weird hang-up with listening to musicals without the context of the story or scenes to attach the musical numbers to. It’s dumb, I know, but I can’t enjoy the songs without some perspective. And unlike an old friend of mine, I don’t seek out the source material and research the shit out of it to put everything together. I have other unimportant bullshit to waste my time on.

It’s funny to me that the two wrote a musical together, because I actually had written my own “musical” (in the vein of Mamma Mia) using Robbie Williams songs. This song was the opening number. I had an outline of the track list in my head, but it has been years and the one I had jotted down has gotten lost in the shuffle. Plus, I had a problem with the final act and how I wanted it to end. The primary issue with using pop songs for musical numbers/narrative is that not every point of the story is available in a pop stars catalog. Which is why Mamma Mia works and doesn’t. Some songs involve a real heavy-duty “suspension of disbelief” to have the songs make sense in the content of the story.

At one point I wanted to talk and Hollywood listen. Ever since I was a kid I wanted to be an actor. I would put on my own little plays, and even now I entertain myself (and my polycule) doing little skits about random things. Some of my spur of the moment characters are memorable enough to be inside jokes.

I use to do a lot of community theatre and at one point I did a few shows in Hollywood. I even made an effort to do “actor platforms” and have my headshots taken. All of this in an effort to win myself an agent. But the cruel fact of the “fame chase” crashed upon me: I was just another face in a sea of 20-something white males trying to make it. What made me so special? I may have had the actual skill, but like my husband likes to point out, “anyone can act.” And I wasn’t the most attractive person trying to accomplish the same goal.

After a very brief stint trying to “make it” I decided to do other things. Unless I was willing to move to LA, the possibility of chasing that dream was pointless. So, as with most “heart desires” I had to let it go.

An unavoidable part of growing up is letting go of our fantasies. As time goes on, it becomes apparent that we only have so much time to dedicate any focus for it to be worthwhile. Unless you want to be shit at a lot of different things, I wouldn’t suggest that. But maybe you are a unicorn who can actually dedicate all their energy into everything. I’d rather strive for excellence with a few things than mediocrity in a number of unrelated efforts.

Maybe some day I will return to get back into acting, but it is not likely. Especially with how things in the world are going. By the time I can dedicate any kind of attention, the world will look like a very different place.

August 22, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 27 – Heaven From Here

Good lawd, I am so far behind on this project. If I didn’t state it in the last one, life has gotten in the way. More specifically my own sadness and malaise keeps me from writing. Try as I might I cannot escape it. Regardless, I set out to complete a task and I shall stand triumphant in the end. I just have to double up my efforts to get back on track. Which, I know I can do.

In addition to my general lack of disinterest, I have had a hard time coming up with new and exciting tracks that bring about vivid memories. That could be due to my inability to listen to music. Lately all I prefer to have in the car has been silence. Just the thought of putting on something makes me anxious. What do I listen to? What will be brought up in the listening? When one has a habit of attaching memories and emotions to songs, it becomes a dangerous game of Musical Russian Roulette when starting a playlist.

On Saturday I was feeling calm enough to listen to something, other than my own thoughts. The song that drifted lazily out of my car speakers was Robbie Williams’ “Heaven From Here.”

I have been a huge fan of his since his first release in the U.S. “Millennium.” I went to my local target and picked up a copy of “The Ego Has Landed” and I have not stopped listening to it since. Robbie was my teen idol, my muse, my obsession so many times in my life. For a brief moment, one entire wall of my bedroom was COVERED in his posters.

Again, I have no idea how my parents did not know I was gay.

I will assure you, I am not attracted to Robbie. I love his song writing. His lyrics are just fun, and coupled with Guy Chambers music… ecstasy. Every album the two collaborated on are my absolute faves. Every track is a banger and I couldn’t pick a favorite if a gun was held to my head. The stuff since the two parted… It’s hit and miss. As I’ve gotten older, I have grown to appreciate the later stuff more than before. However, nothing can beat his early stuff.

I attempted to share this love with my husband throughout our time together but… He hates him. I have to accept that. And it is a consistent hate. Whenever I have had my phone iPod on shuffle, I will tense up the moment I hear the opening notes of a Robbie song. I sit taut, waiting for the moment my husband turns to me with disgust in his face and says, “This is terrible. Who is this?”

I cannot stress this enough, every time. Without fail. And he can’t see who the artist is on the stereo screen. So, he’s not doing a “bit.”

Regardless of my husband’s ultimate feelings about Robbie, the first song I ever gave him to listen to, because it held a “secret message” from me to him was this song. (And I hope you remember my initial post where I explain the implications this action brings.) At the time, he was indifferent about it and did not respond near the way I wanted him to. I was hoping for a: “who is this guy? he’s amazing!” or “this song is fantastic. I feel the same way.” None of that. But that’s my husband. He never reacts the way one expects. Ever. Even now, I know him better than anyone, and he still surprises me.

The one thing I remember, more than any other, was his: “I don’t like the line about our shelf life being short.”

In hindsight, I know he was speaking about our relationship “shelf-life” but with how everything has since played out… It stings. As a result, I go into a weird metaphysical headspace where I begin to believe that I somehow made his diagnosis happen by sending this song to him. Like I inadvertently cast a spell using music.

Even the title “Heaven From Here” contains a new double meaning. One that makes me very sad and I cannot bring myself to type. But I know, dear reader, that you understand what I reference.

I’ll shelter you, I’ll make it alright to cry
And you’ll help too cause the faith in myself has run dry.
We are love and I just wanna hold you near.
Know no fear we will see heaven from here.

All of this is gut wrenching for me. I think of everything I have done, thought, said, and believed over these 19 years and I feel nothing but anger toward myself. I am furious that I took so long to realize how wonderful my husband was and how I doubted what I wanted. I was so caught up in the bullshit of the whirlwind of previous relationships and it made me question possibility.

One thing I have learned is, let yourself feel these emotions. Don’t question what you want. Pick a path and go. If it doesn’t work out… It will be rough but you will survive. And you will come out stronger on the other side. Life is meant to be lived. The good and the bad. Because without the other, it would not give the significance the other deserves.

October 28, 2017

Unexpected Thought Provoking Projections

Every person has that one musical artist that they identify with and call their own. Each song they sing sounds like the words from their own heart and they hold that person up as some mystical creature to be cherished. For me it’s Robbie Williams. I know, weird. I came upon him in my most formative days of my youth when I was obsessed with anything and everything British. I so badly wanted to live across the pond and when the music video of an ex-boyband, turned bad boy, showed up in a random cluster of music videos, singing about the “Millennium” I was entranced. I bought his album”The Ego has Landed” and found myself entranced by each track and even a little frightened at times to where his music was taking me. The song “Karma Killer” made me feel so uncomfortable, because it was such a departure from what I had been listening to.  It was dark and curious.

I have followed the man’s musical catalog since then. I even went online and purchased his UK only releases and a great many posters to decorate the wall of my American home with this British singer. He was a god to me. I’ve loved (almost) every one of his albums. (Rudebox was just not my cup of tea.) I have found that since he parted ways with Guy Chambers I haven’t been a slob for his music as I had once been. Now he has to really try to get me rocking out in my car.

His most recent album “The Heavy Entertainment Show” is pretty good. There a few songs that make me go, “meh” but overall I’m belting out each lyric in my car as I speed down the freeway. While I was working today, I chose that one to blare on my car speakers and there are two tracks that he wrote for his children that brought up a topic in my head I couldn’t shake.

The songs are great. The one to his daughter is “Love my Life” and is this beautiful melody that wins me every time. The one for his son is “Motherfucker.” Don’t let the title mislead you. The song is a rock-ish romp about how everyone in his family has a past where they have battled their demons. It’s really good, and it’s super fun to sing “motherfucker.”

The tracks made me realize how parents tend to project these ideas, personalities, personas, and lives onto their children. Before they have truly developed their own identity, Robbie wants his daughter to have a charmed life where she loves every facet of it. That idea in itself is strange because no one, no matter how pampered their life has been, will escape the harsh reality of “human experience.” But I understand the want for your child to find joy. We all want that. But it’s silly to think that’s even achievable.

The other song  is projecting this idea of masculinity or rebelliousness on his son. He very well may be just as rambunctious as his father but then again he may not. It’s interesting to me how he would even consider that as something his son would have to fight, but not his daughter. He even calls his wife crazy in the song as a reason his son will be a “bad motherfucker.” Shouldn’t she have the opportunity to battle the shadows of the past?

I know he meant nothing harmful in these songs. It’s beautiful that he would even write something for them. I just think it brings to light a problem we have as a society.

In addition, this notion was exacerbated for me when a friend of mine posted a set of photos that were “gender reveal” cakes. And on them were the most stereotypical ideals of what it is to be a boy or girl. One was “Lures or Lace” and another was “guns or glitter.” I like none of those things. Do I have no gender identity?

I think we as a collective look at our children to fix the mistakes that we made or expect them to not have any at all. I think it also perpetuates this idea that girls are delicate creatures that bruise at the slightest touch and boys are tough as nails and up for a fight. And it begs the question, do we grow into these stereotypes that our parents project onto us, or are we our authentic selves?

When I look at my own life, I don’t know if my parents had any kind of expectations of me. Other than me being a good person and marrying a woman and having hundreds of babies, there was nothing else they wanted of me. (Boy did I let them down.) They never forced me into sports, they always encouraged my artistic side. They let me develop as I went along.

I know that if my husband and I do adopt (which we better fucking do, goddamnit) I want to make sure they know they can be and do whatever they want. I will hold no other expectation out of them than to respect those that are around them, and to treat others with courtesy, no matter how terrible they find themselves being treated  in return.

I will say, if they don’t love Robbie like I do, I may have to disown them. However, I let my husband’s dislike of him slide. So, what’s one more under the wire?