I’ve been a fan of music, generally of the Rock and/or Roll variety, for pretty much the entirety of my 25 years. I love the stuff, always have and always will. Like most rock fanatics, I have my list of “Top Ten All-Time Favorite Rock Stars of All Time,” and, like most fanatics, I am happy to consume everything and anything related to my Rock Idols. I scour the web for interviews, spend hours examining photo sessions, read biography after biography after auto-biography, and, of course, passionately collect, listen to, and memorize all of my favorite recordings. I’m also one of those guys who stands patiently by the edge of the stage or the back-stage door, waiting for my chance to talk to my Rock Idols. I am a disciple of Rock ‘n’ Roll, and Rock Stars are my prophets of a better place.
However, one thing has always perplexed me: what the fuck is up with people who will pay thousands of dollars for the meaningless detritus of a Rock Star's life? I mean, does anyone really need to own Elvis’s pill bottles? Are there people out there who can’t live without John Lennon’s actual, verified, comb? Is there anything more shocking then watching an innocent fan turn into maniac as they rub their face with the sweat-stained towel of Def Leppard’s drummer?
What I mean to say is this: the type of shit they auction off as memorabilia these days is just plain weird. If you’re one of the many people who follow my TMT career faithfully, then you know that I have a little bit of an interest in the world of what people are willing to buy in the name of Fandom and how, for some people, owning an inconsequential ticket stub seems to be of more value than JUST LISTENING TO THE FUCKING RECORDS. Whether it be Big Bopper’s casket (yep, the one he was buried in) or all punk rock becoming priceless commodity, I have a strange fascination with the way Rock History has shifted into something so easily bought and sold, and the spirit of change, development, betterment, and creative expression inherent in rock just ain't the same anymore. Seriously, what’s next? The actual shotgun Cobain used to shoot himself? Is this really what the faithful followers of the Church of Rock have come to? Is this really how we appreciate the music that has been brought into our lives? By buying, um, nasal douches?
Elvis's pill bottles are up for auction June 26 and 27 at Julien's in Las Vegas. See you there.
