TMI

I read an interview with Tom Morello in the LA Times this past weekend. Here's an excerpt:

LAT: People are so desperate to sell records that they think they have to do anything.

TM: One of the things I enjoyed about bands growing up was there was a sense of mystique about them. I didn't know what they were eating in catering at their gig every day as they Twittered it to me. Maybe there's something to be said about that.

I think there is something to be said about that: it sucks.

What happened to staring at album covers and band photos for hours on end imagining what incredible, debauched lives our favorite rock stars led? What happened to the mystery?

I really don't want to know what Jimmy Page or Morrissey or Pete Buck are having for lunch, or how much they love CSI: Miami. I want them to exist the way that I envision them - as removed, untouchable, above it all, outside of the pedantic boredom of every day life. Yet thanks to the miracle/curse of modern technology, we can now keep up with our idols' every move. Every boring detail is now available for us to savor while we wait for the next tidbit of useless information about their everyday lives. That is so not rock 'n' roll.

My response: no thanks.

And Twitter is only the latest nail in the coffin of rock mystique. Things really started to go to hell when Ozzy was put on display - in a track suit, no less - in the Osbournes' reality show. I want to think of Ozzy as growing old in a darkly-lit mansion in Birmingham somewhere, not hanging out with Pat Boone by the pool.

So rock stars, I beseach you: resist the urge to tell us everything about yourselves on a minute-by-minute basis. We're already so constricted in this world - at least let our imaginations run free. Even if you are wearing a track suit. ~ Tim