IPOD SHUFFLE - part II

“I have decided to embark on a writing series. At least three essays, all to be inspired by whatever song happens to pop up on my Ipod at the moment.” Here’s the second one:
(In the interest of transparency, the actual song which popped up on my Ipod was “Why Don’t We Get Drunk” by Jimmy Buffett, but if you know that song, you’ll understand why I think it best to wait for the next track…)

“All American Boy” by Steve Grand
Well, actually I am sort of cheating here because this song didn’t actually just pop up on shuffle, but it is indeed playing on my Ipod, where it has practically been on repeat since I first watched the video on YouTube a couple of days ago. As a matter of fact, I doubt that I would be able to write anything coherent right now regarding some other piece of music, because I have been somewhat obsessed with this particular song, the video, and the artist for the past 72 hours or so.
It was one of those links which had been persistently popping up on my Facebook feed for a couple of days: Gay Country Singer Surprise YouTube Hit -scroll, scroll, scroll. Then, one morning I noticed another link, to a TV interview given by this new breakout singer and for some reason or another, decided to watch it. There was this beautiful man, talking about how grateful he was for the attention he was getting, tearing up as he told the story of how he felt like a constant disappointment to his parents (something most gay children can identify with) but ultimately gaining his mother’s acceptance, and talking about his song. “It’s not about being gay,” he said,” it’s about that longing for someone.” I learned that he had produced the song and the video himself, financing the project with his credit cards and going broke in the process. I was intrigued. So I decided to watch the video.
How do I describe my reaction to this video? Let’s just say that before the first 45 seconds had elapsed, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. Why? Well, I’m not really sure why. But something I was seeing and hearing and thinking was striking a chord inside me, something visceral that I could neither withstand nor fully understand. I saw an image of a man, a beautiful man, who has obviously been smitten. I am hearing his words, telling us all about it: “his eyes are holdin’ me, just a captive to his wonder”, and we are hearing a sad, joyful, everyday, uncommon story about sweet, hot, unrequited, precious love. I’m crying because it’s a bittersweet, sad story. But I’m also crying because I’ve been waiting for so long to have this story told to me in this way. I’m watching this beautiful talented boy, tell a heartbreaking story of his love for another man, that perfect, sexy, sweet unattainable “All-American Boy” we have all fallen in love with at one time or another. I no longer have to hear this story told to me by the voice of a woman. No Diva has to sing an anthem to me about that impossible ache we feel when that taste of perfection, that irresistible mix of sweet and hot, is just beyond our grasp. Now I can hear the story told the way I feel it, by one of my own, in words that seem to speak for all of us.
When he sings, ”I say we go this road tonight.”, there is meaning there for many gay men. It’s that moment when you steel yourself, you make that decision, to make your move and put those feelings out there, feelings which could just as easily leave you tied alone and dying to a fence as lead you to a loving embrace. Can you know how my heart swells when I hear this man sing, “The way your shirt hugs your chest, boy, I just won’t forget” and “I drink the moonlight from his eyes”? It is as if a mirror has finally been lifted up in front of me, showing me, by way of this beautiful music and these amazing, poetic lyrics, a reflection of my own feelings and my own experiences.
I think that one of the things about gay men which kind of makes other people nervous is our fairly unbridled sexuality. Men, without the tempering effects of women; well, you get the picture. But it’s who we are, it is a part of our identity and culture which, while we celebrate it in our own society, we tend to downplay a bit with the world at large. With the exception of nearly every Gay Pride Parade in the world, which sometimes make it look as though we equate Pride with dancing in public to bad House music wearing rainbow jockstraps. This song, and the video, both manage to keep that element of sexuality present without being overwhelming or distasteful. “I'm gonna wrestle you out of them clothes, leave that beautiful body exposed, and you can have my heart and my soul and my body... just be mine”…
And then, the kiss. That one instant when it was actually all attainable: the sweet love and the hot sex and the promise of that beautiful All-American Boy, with the dopey grin and the pickup truck and the ass in those jeans… The music hangs, the kiss ends, and the picture becomes clear that it is really never going to happen. For now the dream of that perfect love is just that: a dream. And even now, after watching this video 50 times or more, I cry. I cry because I am sad; I know that story, I have lived that story. And I cry because I am happy; I am happy to hear a voice, our voice, singing about our kind of love, even if it is imperfect and unrequited, and even if it is hot and sweaty and makes other people nervous sometimes.
So thank you, Steve Grand. Thank you for writing this song. Thank you for sitting in your parents’ basement and recording it, your musical arrangements and your beautiful voice giving perfect shape to that human longing, that hunger to be enfolded safe within the arms of another. Thank you for singing it to me, for me, for all of us. And thank you for making me cry for all the right reasons.
Now I must go and watch the video one more time