Walking down California’s infamous Sunset Strip in the late ‘70s and ‘80s would permanently impact all people sober enough to remember their time at the hard-partying epicenter of glam rock. The 1.7 mile stretch of West Hollywood was the nexus of rock’s transgressive subgenre that defined the decade, shaping popular culture and defying traditional gender roles at a time in America when social conservatism was on the rise.
American glam rock icons like Poison and Mötley Crüe were defined by both their music — a highly polished form of the rock music popularized by bands like AC/DC — and their on-stage personas. Their music often centered lyrical content that can only be described as heterosexual (“Girls, Girls, Girls,” “Paradise City,” etc.), but the loud makeup and feminine clothing glam rockers donned were more experimental.
During the 1980s, the sensation of glam rockers putting on pounds of glaring makeup, wearing lingerie and tight leather pants, all while singing about their debaucherous behavior, can only be described as transgressive. The vast majority of bands at the time were not trying to make a statement about gender roles, but instead were shooting for attention, radio play and the central theme of doing whatever they wanted to do whenever they wanted to do it.
However, there was an inherent political statement made when big-name performers like Nikki Sixx, Robert Plant and Dee Snider threw on their seminal looks. Despite flouting the usual expectations of straight men, those performers still were seen as sex symbols while also maintaining a largely male audience, something that often felt very contradictory.
In many ways, gender was simply another performance alongside those bands’ stage shows. The idea of gender being a performance is not a new one; feminist theorist and philosopher Judith Butler coined the term “gender performance” in their 1988 essay “Performative Acts and Gender Constitution.” According to Butler, gender is simply a stylized series of acts, a carefully constructed identity that can be “constituted differently” depending on the circumstances. Basically, Butler says that gender is not real and is instead the sum of all the ways someone acts, that gender is something you do instead of something you are.
Butler’s theory of gender performance is not incredibly popular; indeed, many people do feel they identify with their own gender identity and see it as a tangible thing rather than an illusion. However, there is a clear connection between Butler’s theory that gender is a performance and the actual performances that glam rockers put on.
Think of the live shows and photoshoots of glam bands. People usually associate the loud, effeminately-influenced costumes with their performances, but also consider the physical movements. The way lead singers like Plant and Vince Neil move about on stage is more stereotypically feminine, and many bands would pucker their faces for professional photos to accentuate the lip stick they were wearing.
There are also several overtly queer influences on the aesthetics of glam rock. Judas Priest, one of the major influences on the subgenre — as well as heavy music as a whole — is fronted by Rob Halford, who is gay. The band’s fashion and music both contain nods to the leather and S&M subculture within the gay community of the ‘70s and ‘80s. Judas Priest, being one of the progenitors of rock and heavy metal, introduced queer sensibilities into the world of rock ‘n’ roll that would go onto influence glam rock and heavy metal visuals for decades. No one knew Halford was gay, and his audience readily adopted his style to meet an aesthetic that was often seen as manly, but what they were wearing was directly influenced by queer life.
Glam rock — like metal — is a genre founded on pushing the boundaries of what is acceptable. With a legacy of hedonism and sensationalism, this should be no surprise to people. However, there is still a deeper meaning to glam rock than just sex and drugs and rock and roll, a meaning that can be seen in the tossing out of gendered expectations and its queer history.
Jackson McCoy is a sophomore studying journalism at Ohio University. Please note that the views and opinions of the columnists do not reflect those of The Post. Want to share your thoughts? Let Jackson know by emailing or tweeting him at jm049122@ohio.edu or @_jackson_mccoy_.
