Susan’s Music Talk: Oh, Adam

I don’t usually wade into controversy. While I’m usually not scared to do it in real life, I really hate being flamed here on my blog, too. This is my safe haven.
But… sometimes, I gotta open my mouth. This is one of those times. It’s about that charmer, Adam Lambert.

There are some things I need to say up front:
* I did four years of college radio, running my own radio show. Had a staff, too; it became quite the operation. I worked with the record reps in New York City and LA (and various other places. Manalapan, New Jersey, anyone?).

* I came a job interview away from making a career with a record company. And that’s only the start of the many music-related things I’ve done.

*Add retail sales and concert promotion into the list, as well as stage crew. Don’t forget the FCC Radio Operator’s license in my wallet, although I couldn’t exactly have done college radio without it.

So I’m no stranger to the excesses of the music industry. Most of them just make me shrug. Some of them (like the original hoopla over the cover of Metallica‘s Load album) make me laugh.

Adam Lambert’s AMA performance is another story.

Stop and consider the lyrics (any typos and misspellings aren’t my fault and yes, I wanted to fix them):

So hot
Out the box
Can we pick up the pace?
Turn it up,
Heat it up
I need to be entertained
Push the limit
Are you with it?
Baby, don’t be afraid
I’ma hurt ‘ya real good, baby

Hello, Bondage! Hello Domination! Hello Sado-Masochism!!!
Like THAT doesn’t violate an FCC law or two? Or more?

But wait. You lucky devils, there’s more.

Let’s go
It’s my show
Baby, do what I say
Don’t trip off the glitz
That I’m gonna display
I told ya
I’ma hold ya down until you’re amazed
Give it to ya ’til your screaming my name
No escaping when I start
Once I’m in I own your heart
There’s no way you’ll ring the alarm
So hold on until it’s over
Oh, do you know what you got into?
Can you handle what I’m ’bout to do?
‘Cause it’s about to get rough for you
I’m here for your entertainment

And more!

It’s alright
You’ll be fine
Baby, I’m in control
Take the pain
Take the pleasure
I’m the master of both
Close your eyes
Not your mind
Let me into your soul
I’ma work ya ’til your totally blown
No escaping when I start
Once I’m in I own your heart
There’s no way ‘ta ring the alarm
So hold on until it’s over

Had enough? I sure have — and I have no qualms about reading BDSM romances, either. I have a number of friends who write them, in fact. Hell, I’ve even BEEN to BDSM clubs in my time. It’s not something I want to take part in, myself, but at least I’m making an informed decision about what I am or am not denying myself.

The now infamous TV performance aside, we’ve got this song that’s all about this sexual game/lifestyle/deviance — call it what you will. It’s still coming into my house, without my permission, via the airwaves (or cable wire, such as it is). As a parent, I’m glad I wasn’t watching with my kids (in fact, I wasn’t watching at all. That’s how distant from popular music I’ve grown).

I have no problems saying to my kids, “Well, Adam kissed another man, yes. Some men like to kiss other men. Some women like to kiss other women. Me, I like to kiss your dad. It takes all kinds to rock the world.”

I DO, however, have problems explaning why that person is pretending to kiss (to couch it in the innocence of my kids) another person’s private area. With explaining the dominance on display when Adam yanked on his keyboard player’s hair in order to deliver that kiss. With explaining the man in the white cargo pants with the funky black straps on them and what those straps were a symbol of.

I worry about not only my kids, who are really too young to understand all this (and who I hope won’t see it until they’re old enough to get all the nuances), but about the kids who are older. The kids who get it — or who *think* they do.

BDSM isn’t a black-and-white area. The idea of pain as sexual pleasure is complex. It’s intricate. It’s a dance, and if it’s not done carefully, people get hurt. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically.

Some of those wounds will last forever. They’ll open back up when it’s least expected. They may color the way a person lives out the rest of his or her life.

Yes, this is dangerous stuff. The Tour Manager said to me that kids don’t listen to the lyrics to a song. But I disagree. I’m someone who physically clung to her stereo at times as an adolescent and young adult, wishing I could crawl inside that song and let the music soothe the pain away.

I have no doubt that there are kids who’ll hear this song and totally not get it. I’m not so worried about them. Or about the kids who get it and say, “Nah. No thanks” to trying the BDSM thing — at least until they’re older and better prepared.

Nope, it’s those other kids. The ones who are searching for a thrill. The suggestible ones. The followers. The young men who are confused about who they are, who’ll manage to get over their heads. The kids who’ll treat something as powerful as BDSM as a game.

It’s not.

During my radio years, I watched the groupies crawl across the floor, trying to seduce a jaded rocker. I’ve been around. I was at least smart enough to watch rather than experience … in most cases.

Now, as an adult who knows better, I see the danger. Not in one televised performance, but in the fact that TPTB at the record company and at ABC TV are allowing such blatantly dangerous sexuality into our lives. This isn’t a game, folks. BDSM hurts people. Literally and figuratively.