What does a glitter virgin wear to a glam concert? That was the question racing through my mind. I didn't want to look out of place, but I didn't want to pretend to be something I'm not. Basically, I wanted to fit in, but I didn't want to look like I was a lifetime glam-lover. After trying on and discarding several outfits, I decided on jeans, a tight black t-shirt and a leather jacket, and pencilled on some eyeliner as an afterthought. I studied myself in the mirror - glam enough to get me by, but not camp enough to proclaim myself as a sparkle child - perfect.
I needn't have worried – almost everyone, with a few exceptions who were doused in glitter and feathers, was dressed like me. Relaxing almost immediately, I ordered a Guinness and sank back into the atmosphere that only a live gig can provide. The small venue was throbbing with energy and excitement, and even I had to admit that the music wasn't too bad. The warm-up act, some little-known band from an obscure Australian town, was good, but it was obvious that they weren't what most people had come for. After half an hour of watching them thrashing around in the typical wannabe style, Curt Wild graced the stage. And I really do mean graced. That man didn't walk, it was almost as if he was floating above the ground with some inhuman animal grace. The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles as he started to sing. I was mesmerised. Listening to him sing, I don't know how I ever could have doubted that there was emotion in glam rock. Curt's voice almost rattled the soul with its heart-wrenching screams of agony and pain, and sending shivers down my spine, he went through the repertoire putting more raw emotion into each song than I'd heard in my life. And the music was not the only thing that transfixed me; it was Curt himself too. He was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I hated myself for thinking these things, tried to banish them away, blame them on the alcohol, but I couldn't; they just kept coming back; why should I, a happily married man, who loved his wife and children to distraction, be thinking such things about someone else? And this was not just 'someone else' - it was a man. Why the fuck was this happening to me?
I stared half shamefully at him throughout the entire performance, and no matter how many times I tried to pull my eyes away from his; I knew in my heart that I was fighting a losing battle. I was lost in his gaze, and I realised with a jolt that I didn't want to stop looking at him, I didn't want to leave. I could have stayed in that bar for God knows how long and been perfectly content with just drinking in every inch of him.
CurtI had expected this gig in Melbourne to be pretty much like most of the other small gigs I'd been doing recently, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The crowds were usually responsive and I always felt like I could interact better in smaller venues, and really put my all into the performance. However, after half a decade of touring, you begin to feel like you've seen everything, and it takes something extra to make you feel the rush. It's like drugs; the more you do, the more you have to keep pushing the limits and extremes to feel the buzz. I went on stage, surveyed the crowd, and almost fell off the stage. There was this guy, sitting at the bar, casually drinking a beer. At first glance, he didn't look like anything special, but something made me do a double take. Thank God I did; he was completely fuckin' gorgeous. He had these seemingly endless pools for eyes, and they were searching for something, searching me - looking deep into my very soul. It shook me, having someone look so intently at me, it not having happened for many a year. I was unprepared after all this time and my defences were down, I just didn't know how to deal with it. I seriously almost melted into a puddle under that intense gaze, and really that was what I wanted to do. I didn't want to go on stage and sing, I just wanted to hold this guy in my arms and caress his skin, his hair… But of course that was out of the question. I sang, I sang better than I had in a long time, and I felt the rush. The adrenalin pumping through my veins pushed me on, and by the end of the show I was exhausted. I had meant every emotion, every bit of raw energy in the songs. Being stared at so deeply had left me with a feeling of naivety, just as I had felt years ago, my heart having been kicked around and bruised, and eventually broken, by Brian. It was the weirdest feeling – I felt I had known this guy all my life, it was like he was a part of me, when in actuality, I didn't even know his name. But I didn't care. I wanted him like I'd wanted nothing before, like I never thought I'd want anything again, just to have him hold me and feel protected and safe.