There was Corey Feldman, Richard Greico, and Andrew McCarthy. *sigh*

Then came Duff, and the rest were just passe.

Duff McKagan was my first ‘rock n’ roll crush’. Sure I had liked movie stars before, but c’mon, they were all pansies! All unshirted on the pages of Teen Beat magazine, their names superimposed over pink hearts, a list of all their “favourites” to the right (Favorite colour: puce!)… those boys were wussy losers. I needed something more than those flowery, safe boys. I needed someone who could understand the fact that I wanted to see a cage match between The Ramones and The New Kids on The Block. I needed someone who understood that The Sex Pistols were important, and that Depeche Mode was the only ‘Boy Band’ whose tapes were worth stealing from Sam.

I found a skinny, strung-out, word-slurring, badass blonde bassist in Duff McKagan. He wasn’t a pretty boy, he was gritty and nervy and full of the crazy raw sex appeal that my 14 yr old self was somehow drawn to. He wore a padlocked chain around his neck, just like Sid Vicious did, and he played his bass a little like Johnny Ramone played his guitar – wide stance, bent back, low-slung, arm straight. He was a user, a spitter, a sweaty flopped-over maniac, and I thought he was fan-fucking-tastic!

When I was 15 I had my mom drive me all the way to Seattle so that I could see badass Guns N’ Roses play (it was my first concert: GNR, Metallica and Motorhead), and as my mom sat in her seat (probably wishing for death), I was dancing around thinking that I was badass, too. Maybe I was badass… considering my friends’ first concerts were Debbie Gibson, Richard Marx and Tiffany. Pfffft… nice hair, Richard Marx! Duff’s hair was awesome. Stringy, sweaty, whatever-coloured, and hanging in his face as he drooped over his bass on-stage. Dreamy!

Anyway… so here we are a couple decades later, and Duff McKagan has gone and written a book. It blows my mind. Not only did he actually survive the 80’s and 90’s, he came out of it pretty damn well. The guy lived through hell for a good amount of time, but apparently the deepest depths wakes the inner phoenix. He sobered up, went back to school, married a supermodel, became a father, and continued playing music… and then he writes a book. Duff was an intellectual this whole time, and no one told me!? Sonofabitch! That makes him even MORE awesome!

So… I just started reading his book last night, and I made it through about 50 pages before I had to will myself to put it down. It’s definitely readable, I can tell you that much! As soon as I’m finished with today’s blog post, I’m going to pick the book up again, and read it until I have to drag myself to work.

Duff wrote a book. Huh. Now THAT’S something I didn’t see coming. Nicely done, Duff.

Happy Monday!


PS – To The Cheerleader I Live With… Duff may have been my first crush, but you’re my only love. You have my heart (even if you don’t have Stringy, sweaty, whatever-coloured hair).  xoxo