TWISTED SISTER

“Ya wanna sneak into my brothers’ room?” my friend Nicole asked me as we walked aimlessly through the house searching for something to do. It was 1984. We were eleven years old, bored, and intrigued with boys and what made them tick. I was nervous.

“I don’t know…” I wavered, as we stood just outside the closed bedroom door. Neither of her older brothers was home. I hardly ever encountered Joe (who was unbelievably old, like eighteen!), and Bobby (who was more like fifteen) made me nervous. He was always picking up the line to yell at us or pick on us when we were on the phone. I was positive either one of them would try to kick our asses if he found us in their room.

“Come on!” Nicole said, undaunted, and flung open the door. And there it was, probably my only encounter with a teenage boy’s bedroom in the mid-80s. Nervous, I checked behind me again for Bobby or Joe, then scanned the room. I was still afraid to go all the way in, knowing it would set off some sort of alarm for the boys to come back. My glance instantly fell onto the one garish thing that stared me in the face from straight across the room. The one thing I could see clearly without overstepping my bounds.

“Eeeeew! How can he sleep with that right next to his head like that?” I asked Nicole.

“I know. It’s so gross!” she replied as she rummaged around the room, unafraid.

I had to turn my eyes away. The giant poster sent a shiver down my spine, though I didn’t want to admit it. I was always afraid of clowns. This poster was of a huge, purposefully frightening clown with huge blonde hair, enormous shoulder pads and garish makeup. He held some sort of bloody animal bone in his hand and snarled at the camera. I knew who the subject was. I knew the band was supposed to be “cool.” I even liked the band’s songs. But that didn’t make the poster any less repulsive in my eyes.

“Let’s go…” I pleaded to Nicole. She complied, closed the door, and followed me back up the hallway. I didn’t have to look at that picture of Twisted Sister’s Dee Snider anymore.

That is my earliest memory of Dee Snider. In the 80s, Twisted Sister was unabashed “boy metal,” at least to most girls my age. Over the years, as my musical taste turned to more rock and less pop, I developed a sincere appreciation for Twisted Sister and what they had accomplished. Although they had broken up by the time my metal musical journey really began, I always knew the band was a classic. I still find it difficult to look at Dee Snider in full makeup.

I never really thought I would ever have the chance to see Twisted Sister live, so when they began doing reunion shows a few years ago that was a real surprise. When they scheduled a date in Pennsylvania this summer, my boyfriend, Brian, decided he had to go. He had been too young to see them during their heyday as well. His older brother had seen them in a club before they hit it big, but Brian had never had the chance to see them yet. We are both in our early thirties now. That is a long time to wait.

The venue was Penn’s Peak in rural Jim Thorpe, PA. It’s a beautiful and enormous log cabin filled with tables, chairs, a balcony, a bar, and even a kitchen serving food. When we arrived we grabbed a seat. We were a little early and the show was not to begin until 8 p.m. No opening act had been announced. People-watching is always interesting at these shows. As I looked around, I saw mostly fans of our own age with a few older and younger people here and there. Most people were dressed normally. That is, in clothes appropriate for their age, their weight, and the setting. But, as usual there were a few Jenny Jones “You’re Too Fat To Wear That!” episode hopefuls, and definitely some belligerent Nascar fans and mullets. This is all to be expected at 80s metal shows these days. You have to take the good with the annoying. I suppose there are worse things in the world. But mostly, the people at this show were cool.

At 8 p.m. the lights dimmed and, much to our surprise, a band that was not Twisted Sister took the stage. A blonde singer in leather pants, a T-shirt and a tuxedo jacket bounded out on stage. The introduction had been difficult to hear, but within about three seconds I recognized the singer as Dee Snider’s son (and former MTV2 VJ), Jesse. The band, Blazed, with Jesse and his bass player’s boundless energy, put on a straight-ahead rock show with classic 80s-style rock songs. The only thing that seemed to hold them back was Jesse’s apparent nervousness or insecurity, which unfortunately, came across instead as a bit of arrogance. For instance, at one point between songs Jesse stated that he didn’t dress up for this show as much as he usually does. He went on to stammer, “I mean, not that I’m naked or anything…” to which the audience was fairly silent. His point originally had been that he did not dress up more because he felt he couldn’t compete with headliners Twisted Sister. Instead, because he was essentially half-naked (he had, since his show began, lost the jacket, and the T-shirt to reveal a tanned and toned torso), his comment about not being naked just came across as arrogant or conceited. It isn’t the 80s anymore and arrogance from a band usually doesn’t fly with audiences anymore – especially if the band hasn’t proven itself. I am willing to bet that he never meant to portray arrogance or conceit, and is more insecure than he seems, which would be a very real and endearing quality if he let himself be humble onstage. I guess what I am saying is that Blazed could be a very good band if Jesse was more able to just be himself onstage and not try so hard. They have potential.

When Blazed was finished we decided to make our way down to the table-and-chair-less area in front of the stage. Much to our surprise there were not a lot of people down there yet. For the first time in my life I had left my hair in its naturally curly state for a concert, and one female fan found the need to compliment me on it. Positive reinforcement is always good!

As we waited and waited a strange cast of characters began to surround us. The Motley Crue album “Girls, Girls, Girls” blared on the PA and one Nascar fan with a Dale Earnhardt, Jr. baseball cap, a beer in one hand, and another beer in his back pocket began to loudly sing along, off-key. To those of us who were sober, there was much amusement in this, followed by much annoyance as the wait wore on. One girl and I exchanged knowing glances whenever he sang too loudly. He was having fun and not bothering anyone too much. The guy at every show that whistles loudly was also in attendance. Why do the singer and the whistler always look around knowingly after every tone they emit as if they expect you to agree with something?

I have gone back and forth for days about whether or not to mention this next girl. I think I have to, because she was fabulous in her own stupendously awful way. I do know her first name, but I will not divulge it. The purpose here is not to embarrass or hurt anyone, but to paint a picture of the evening. There was one female there that defied all the rules of fashion, to say the least, but had the beautiful audacity not to seem to care at all. I have to give this girl credit for her shameless confidence. She was overweight, wore black spandex pants, white socks, black high-top sneakers, a old and tattered pink Twisted Sister half-shirt with a black crocheted sweater over the top. Her makeup was dark for her complexion. Her hair, once a very dark color, as evidenced by her part, was now dyed a platinum blonde. She wore it about shoulder-length and permed to a frizz. To complete the ensemble she wore a pink headband underneath her hair and around her forehead, and seemed inexplicably unconcerned that she had absolutely no front teeth. She stood right up against the barricade waiting for the show to start, and carried a Ziplock baggie of photographs from the 80s with her. She told anyone who would listen that she used to know the band and filled their heads with backstage stories. Fortunately for her and unfortunately for this article, I was just too far away to hear anything specific. She was very adamant about her love for the band and was clearly a hard-core old-school fan. She displayed more confidence than I probably ever will in my life. For that, she was fabulous.

Within a few more minutes, a girl with a giant ponytail tried to smash her way into our personal space, only to be derided by a huge biker guy she had also displaced. Her man was understandably probably afraid of having to fight this guy and finally convinced her to stand somewhere else. After several minutes of saying, “I’m not going anywhere, people do this at concerts all the time!” as if rudeness were an accepted commodity in life, she finally decided, “I want to stand somewhere else. Let’s go.” Apparently, it had to be her idea before she could move. It was a victory for decent people everywhere and several of us thanked the biker afterward.

Finally, the lights dimmed and Twisted Sister took the stage. One person, Confident Toothless Girl, was between me and the barricade. We could not believe we had gotten so close to the stage so easily. The whole band was in full makeup, and to my surprise, when I saw Dee up close I still felt a stirring of fear in my heart. I am not afraid of him, but the instinct is still there. Some things never change.

At one point, Jay Jay French threw a pick into the crowd and no one appeared to know where it landed. I looked around and saw a guy to my right with a few picks in his hand. His girl was the one being nice with the knowing glances earlier. I asked him if he had found the pick we were all looking for. He replied that he had helped the band set up and put a silver Jay Jay French pick into my hand. I was beside myself that someone was so nice to me for no reason.

During the whole show Jay Jay and Dee’s daughters were side-stage. When the band played “We’re Not Gonna Take It” the crowd went wild and the little girls did, too. One of them jammed on air guitar while the other jumped and sang along. It was a sight. During “The Price” they also sang along and danced back and forth. Dee high-fived his daughter after almost every song and Jay Jay gave his girl a hug after “We’re Not Gonna Take It.” It really awesome to see such “tough” guys being so sweet.

The between-song banter was legendary. Jay Jay went on about how awful American Idol is and went on to discuss their plans to re-record “Stay Hungry.” Dee picked on a girl in the audience because she was only enthusiastic during certain songs. Dee also decided to rename the town “Jim F.cking Thorpe, PA” to the crowd’s delight. He had the lights turned up on the crowd twice, the second time so the band could see us throw our fists in the air and yell “rock!” during “I Wanna Rock.” Dee then had us all jump in the air and do the same, saying if we were embarrassed we were weak (and other words I shan’t mention). Surprisingly, almost everyone did it and no one fell over. One time when the lights had been on us a while, Dee instructed the light guy to “turn the lights back off them, they’re not f.cking McDonalds’ french fries or something!”

The crowd was wild and intense, but not in a juvenile or violent way. The atmosphere was fantastic. I would see them again any day and would return to this venue to see another band any day. We left during the encore to beat traffic and I found out later we missed an after-show meet-and-greet opportunity. That is disappointing. But it doesn’t take away from the fantastic night of rock and roll we got to experience.

Now, if I could only figure out why clowns bother me so much…

SET LIST:
What You Don't Know (Sure Can Hurt You)
The Kids are Back
Stay Hungry
Ride To Live, Live To Ride
The Beast
You Can't Stop Rock N Roll
Shoot 'Em Down
We're Not Gonna Take It
The Fire Still Burns
Under The Blade
The Price
Burn In Hell
I Wanna Rock

ENCORES:
Come Out and Play
S.M.F.

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