Henry Rollins impressed me so much more than I ever thought he would, and my expectations were pretty damn high. I knew he was clever. I knew he had interesting stories to tell. (Who wouldn’t, knowing the people he knows and having been where he has?). I knew he was funny.
What I didn’t expect was to sit, glued to my seat, for three hours, too scared to go to the loo in case I missed something mind blowing. I kept expecting him to stop between stories, take a sip of water, collect his thoughts, anything, but, after casually strolling on stage with less pomp and ceremony than I’ve ever seen from any comedian or actor (it took a few moments for some people to even realise it was the man himself), he proceeded to speak for three hours without ever breaking his rhythm or flow. I can’t think of many individuals who are able to do that without leaving most of the audience twitchy and restless.
Some people aren’t that familiar with Henry Rollins, or only know him in one or two of his many guises. I’ll save you the trouble of having to look him up on “Googles”, as he calls it (quoting his linguistically challenged president). Rollins was the frontman of Black Flag, a seminal US band that emerged from the California punk scene of the early 1980s. Before that he was part of the hugely influential Washington, DC, scene that spawned acts such as Minor Threat and the mighty Fugazi (Ian MacKaye was a close friend).
After the break-up of Black Flag, he began to gain media recognition beyond the alternative scene, with MTV appearances, a radio show, film appearances and, increasingly, spoken-word tours and albums. He is now most commonly seen as a spoken-word artist, an outspoken critic of the Bush administration and a human rights activist.
I hate the term “something for everyone”. It conjures up images of bland generality, of a varied mish-mash of content that never explores anything in any satisfying depth or detail. This was definitely not the case on Friday night, but Rollins did find a way to appeal to most members of the audience, regardless of why they were there. The open-mouthed awe that greeted his stories of people he has known and worked with; the wry chuckles of the Bush-bashers who were getting their money’s worth; the nods and murmurs of people who shared his liberal views … I think you would be hard pressed to find someone who was disappointed with the show.
If this all sounds very gushy, I apologise. I admit that, after seeing the show, I finally understand all the hype (and I have developed a bit of a crush). I find it hard to be cynical, even though, before, I was quick to label him a sell-out after hearing of his post-Black Flag activities (the list of films he has been in still sort of breaks my heart).
I admit that, after the show, I hung around like a total groupie waiting for him to emerge from the dressing room (which he did, despite being obviously exhausted). And he left me thinking that many local performers could learn something from this guy who, despite the fact that most of the audience had pretty much decided he was great before he had said a single word, still gave us everything he had.
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