Missing the Pop Culture Zeitgeist Completely (Or, a Response of Sorts to an Essay About “The Runaways”)

I haven’t seen the film The Runaways yet, but I know I’m going to like it. I’m a sucker for 70s nostalgia; I enjoyed “Dazed and Confused,” and count “Boogie Nights” as one of my all time favorite films.

I find it interesting, however, that thoughts of The Runaways turn neither Carolyn’s thoughts nor my thoughts to the 1970s. In Carolyn’s case, the band turns her thoughts to her halcyon early 1990s days in New York, specifically the Lower East Side. In my case, the band turns my thoughts to my bleak early 80s days on Long Island, specifically Great Neck.

For me, The Runaways mean Joan Jett. And for me, Joan Jett means March of 1982. Because, in March of 1982 the number one song in the nation was Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock and Roll.”

And at first I hated that song.

Specifically, I hated that song—and hated Joan Jett—because she had knocked another song off the top of the charts, a song that was on its way to a record for weeks at number one. I now must admit that at the time, I loved that song more than I loved Joan Jett, who has become an icon.

In much the same way that some teenagers must have passed up the Beatles concert at Shea Stadium for the chance to see Soupy Sales at a nondescript location, I passed Joan Jett by, and bet my passion on another song. And now, for the rest of my life, I must live with the fact that I chose this song and this band over Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.

That song was “Centerfold” by the J. Geils band.

If you grew up in the 1980s going from thoughts of Joan Jett to the J. Geils Band is a bit like driving a sports car at top speed, slamming on the brakes, and whipping the steering wheel around so that the car faces in the opposite direction. The paradigm shift—particularly with the benefit of hindsight—is so dramatic, so jolting, that the brain feels as if it is spinning around in its skull case.

Time has, of course, been far kinder to Joan Jett than the J. Geils Band. Joan Jett has become an iconic symbol not just for strong independent women, but also for strong independent lesbians. This is not to say that you have to be a lesbian to be inspired by Joan Jett; as Carolyn’s essay made clear, any woman of any orientation could find her story inspiring.

This is not to take anything away from the J. Geils Band. They were a fun band that worked their way through Boston pubs, and in addition to “Centerfold,” they’re probably best known for the fun song “Love Stinks.” “Freeze Frame,” the title track from the album on which “Centerfold” appeared, which reached number four on the charts but by now faded from most people’s memory, was a catchy, upbeat tune.

But no offense, even though Peter Wolfe is a way cool guy, The J. Geils Band did not even hold a flickering candle to the force of nature that was Joan Jett. This was, after all, the woman who founded her own record label, Blackheart Records, and released the sensational album “Bad Reputation.” In addition to its scorching title song, this album also has one of the all time great album cover photographs (that's the one at the beginning of this article, where Joan is airborne).

Let me put it this way before moving on: I bypassed Joan Jett for a band that featured a harmonica player who willingly referred to himself as "Magic Dick."

So “The Runways” makes me think of Joan Jett, and Joan Jett makes me think of J. Geils. This in turn, makes me think of myself at the age of 15. And this, in turn, forces me to contemplate an inescapable truth:

God, what a pathetic little pencil-necked geek I was.

Put it this way: I know what a genuine pencil-necked geek is. I know this because of the novelty song by professional wrestling manager Freddie Blassie called, appropriately enough, “Pencil Necked Geek.” I know this because the song figured prominently on Dr. Demento, a radio show that played novelty records.

And so, while my only two friends in tenth grade listened to such bands as The Bad Brains, Stiff Little Fingers, The Sex Pistols, Public Image Limited, The Cure, The Stray Cats, The Buzzcocks, The Undertones, Ultravox, Kraftwerk, The Dead Kennedys, Squeeze, The Jam, The Specials, Gang of Four, Talking Heads, The Clash, Elvis Costello and the Attractions, Nick Lowe, Dave Edmonds, Rockpile, Madness, and countless others, I was obsessively listening to “Fish Heads” by Barnes and Barnes.

True, some the sharp musical tastes of these friends rubbed off on me, and I did indeed listen to these bands, dilettante that I was. Nonetheless, as these friends matured and I remained trapped in the immaturity that comes from listening to too much Weird Al Yankovic—not to mention being trapped in the body of an eleven year old in tenth grade—these friends outgrew me and began to drift from me. Sensing this, I switched schools, and transferred from Great Neck South to Great Neck North.

The story has a happy ending. Once at North, a group of girls took me under their wing, and I sort of became their mascot. My musical tastes blossomed, and a few years later, I was in a band with some of them.

It was sort of like how I imagine it would have been if I had been in a band with Joan Jett in high school. I like to think that if I had gone to high school with Joan Jett, she would have beaten the crap out of anyone who picked on me. I would have been proud to drum with her band, and would have felt the way Encyclopedia Brown felt when he befriended Sally Kimball.

Eventually I realized the error of my ways. I went on to listen to such great girl groups as The Pretenders, Throwing Muses, The Breeders and the Donnas. I often played with female musicians who were far more talented than I was, and felt not intimidated, but just honored that they considered me good enough to sit in with them.

So it is with bittersweet memories that watch The Runaways trailer, and it will be with bittersweet memories that I watch the film. Back then, I had little to guide me in the treacherous minefield of what is worth listening to, and what isn’t. Fortunately, I eventually had a group of strong, understanding women who knew that childlike adolescent omega males often need nothing more than a few big sisters to guide them in the right direction.