When I was in college I was a huge heavy metal freak. I use “heavy metal” here to refer to just about anything hard rock. Def Leppard is the band I was insane about. This was before I had ever been to the Strip or any of the Hollywood rock clubs. I guess I was in training and there was no less heavy metal place on the planet than UCSB.
I used to go to this record store in Goleta on Hollister and buy all kinds of crazy records I had read about. One time the guy at the store asked me if I was friends with the band (“Savage Thrust”) and friends was a stretch but I did exchange a snail mail with someone in the band named Eddie who responded to my fan letter with a postcard of a butcher surounded by floating steaks and holding a huge string of sausages. It said “You Just Can’t Beat My Meat.” He signed it, “Kill the wusses.”
I read CREEM and CREEM Metal and [holy crap! I just did an online search to see if there was anything about the magazine and guess what? They’re back. Wow, here’s a link to the best Replacements Interview ever.] This development has me totally off topic on this post. I’ll save the CREEM stuff for another time.
Back to the heavy metal fixation. I used every excuse for dressing up to dress like a rocker chick. At UCSB. I hope you can grasp just how bizarre this was. When I was president of the sorority (you know, the heavy metal sorority – ha ha!) I made up a theme dinner — instead of “everybody wear white” or “toga” I had a “ten year reunion” dinner and you were supposed to dress as what you thought you’d be in ten years. I dressed as a rocker chick. MJ and Rowland dressed up as dead people.