The Indie Rock Fag: Cockholm Syndrome
Original illustration by Ryan Blomberg (www.RyanBlomberg.wordpress.com)
I was unsure how to start today’s column about the kind of music I am forced to listen to at the gay gym, so I turned over the lede to my friend Frankenstein. We actually had a conversation about it. It went something like this:
Me: So Frankenstein, what do you think about pop music?
Frankenstein: POP MUSIC BAD!
Me: But Frankenstein, if you judge music in a vacuum, and separate the song’s beats, melody and atmosphere from its flash-in-the-pan artist or cultural context, isn’t it unfair to make such a blanket statement?
Frankenstein: LADY GAGA BAD!
It devolved pretty quickly from there. In general he was extremely unhelpful and I sent him back to the blind old man’s house shortly after. But he did have a point.
I have been, historically, a vocal champion of pop music. A good song is a good songs, period. “Toxic” or “Womanizer” are great and I’ll never truly disparage them. Same with “Irreplacable,” “Steal My Sunshine,” Some Girls” or a million other perfect three minute escapes.” But those songs are exceptions. Bright, shining, rarer-than-a-Democrat-at-a-glory-hole exceptions.
I know this because I go to a gay gym. And the gay gym follows the rules of most gay specific venues. Whether they be athletic centers, coffee shops, clothing stores or that bathroom at Macy’s where people take dumps on each other, these places have followed the lazy heuristic shorthand that gay men are programmed from birth to like music that reflects our supposed culture: Glossy, disposable and completely empty.
Solemn pronouncements aside, I feel like my gym has a rotating set of about 15 songs, tops, that it plays on loop all hours of all days. I can go there at 6 on a Tuesday or 11 on a Saturday and its the same. I’ll hear that song that says “Hey Washington, you got it made.” A completely unnecessary dance remix of Lily Allen’s “The Fear.” If I’m really having a bad day, a chipmunk-speed version of Cece Peniston’s “Finally” will come on and I have no choice but to run to the roof, strip off my shirt and regale the heavens with unanswered cries of “what have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this?” Alas, neither god nor Neil Tennant has ever answered.
And I admit that this is all a matter of taste. A person has a right to like whatever music they want and I won’t make any value judgements on them. But it does bother me when anyone – be it my sister, a waitress, or a gym- makes assumptions about the things I like purely because I’m gay. Would a restaurant only serve me food that would feel good when inserted in my buttocks? Would a clothing store employee suggest I check out their selection of dresses and press-on nails if she saw me kissing my boyfriend? Then why do I get assaulted with club music when I’m simply trying to sweat out the frustrations of my day in a social, athletic setting?
(But, you might wonder, isn’t this just what a gym plays to get people amped up? No. I’ve been to many gyms and this is the first that’s felt like Circuit party. Someone out there is also wondering why I don’t just go to non-gay gym. To that I’d respond that I enjoy a non-bar place to interact with gay men and that I’ve made good friends in doing so. And yes, I’ve considered headphones. I just find them distracting and uncomfortable).
I go to the gym about three times a week for roughly an hour a pop. I’ve been a member since January 07. So thats about 350 hours of my life spent in the midst of the autotune choral extravaganza. And now what happens? I start to like the stuff. I went through the entirety of last week with Leona Lewis’ “Bleeding Love” on repeat, which took a year to worm its way in. I used to look forward to Katy Perry. Katy Perry, people! It pains me to even admit this, but I once hummed along to “Hey There Delilah!”
Stockholm Syndrome, loosely, is when kidnapping victims beginning to identify with or become affectionate for their kidnappers. Cockholm Syndrom, then, is the equivalent process of gay men being so assaulted by the flashy shackles of their newfound culture that they must embrace them to avoid misery. I think the only reason I’ve started to look forward to “If You Seek Amy” is that otherwise I would want to douse myself in acid and throw myself out a third story window into a piranha tank when it came on.
And this is just a gym. What little annoyances of gay life have you found yourself growing to love after repeated exposure? What would your pre-coming-out say if they found out?
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Oooooh it’s what you do to meee. Oh, what you do to me. ooooooh it’s what you do to meeeee. Oooooh it’s what you do to me.
I resisted that Delilah song for a while, but his vocals are just too damn lilting.
man up and get some headphones. then put on whatever happy house you like, especially the juan maclean track “happy house” which is pretty spectacular for the gym from the roughly 4 times i’ve worked out all year (gasp!). otherwise you can’t really complain about the music, because yes some gays like pop music, stereotypically most. stereotypically most gays go to the gym (i prefer my gym away from people and we have a little one in my office i use when i feel like it, see-4 times this year). sure it’d be great to have a gym where one could sweat it out to “we are your friends” but thats is why god invented indie-rock dance parties.
c’mon, you said it pop music isn’t that bad. leona lewis is pretty terrible, but katy perry’s got some jamz (4 to be exact) and the new kelly clarkson shit (some of it written by ms perry) is pretty fun to work out too. just wait if little boots or la roux can gain even one cent of mainstream time then your gym experience might be more “hip”.
you should ask the people what station they are playing and try to complain if it bothers you that much. maybe you can program a hott mix, or piss people off by playing the lcd soundsytem nike running man mix (pretty dope).
my pre-coming out self would look down on me for sometimes drinking vodka sodas. i most definitely would never have tried a vodka soda without spending some time in gay bars.
I go to a “non-gay gym” and it’s the same – shitty music on repeat. This is not gay-specific, it’s specific to whoever is working when you decide to work out. I’ve asked the gym employees to change the channel before, but have recently invested in ear buds (I’ve gone through three brands trying to find ones that are comfortable) and some loud angry rock music.
And I don’t know about Katy Perry or vodka sodas, but I’m pretty sure my pre-coming out self would be upset with this whole sex with dudes thing.
“I’ve been to many gyms and this is the first that’s felt like Circuit party. Someone out there is also wondering why I don’t just go to non-gay gym. To that I’d respond that I enjoy a non-bar place to interact with gay men and that I’ve made good friends in doing so.”
Dude. A Gay gym is a bar. You just admitted that.
I lift on a 5 day split at a regular gym in Rockville. The music sucks but it doesn’t matter; I’m there to work out. I never remember what’s playing and I never remember who’s there because I’m focused on lifting no more than 30-60 minutes before getting out of there and resuming my life.
Why would you go to a gym to socialize and hate on the music? It’s like going to the supermarket to pick up your dry cleaning. If, instead of working out, you make friends and hate the music you’re at the wrong gym. Stop going to that gym.
Why are you committed to this frustration?
I wonder how much of my personal hatred of a lot of pop music is due to some sort of residual internalized homophobia. That’s what my queer-studied-prof friend tells me, at least. I know there have been at least a few times when I first heard a pop song at a gay bar, thought it was awful, continue thinking it’s awful for years, and then finally I realize what a fool I’ve been. (I’m particularly thinking of “Can’t Get You Out of My Head.”)
The flip side is that I get the feeling that a lot of gay people start liking pop music specifically because they’ve accepted themselves as gay and figure that liking pop music is the gay thing to do. That’s the rite-of-passage theory. But others seem to like it just as a way of getting along with other gays. It’s like how some straight guys talk about sports, even if they don’t particularly like sports, because there’s nothing else to talk about.
More generally, I wonder how much of what’s commonly seen as “gay behavior” is, well, kinda a shtick. I once met this guy–randomly, on Castro street–who was super queeny. But later, I ran into him outside of the “gay environment”–at a college reunion, of all places–and he acted super butch. I don’t do either very well, so I can’t help at wondering how he manages to switch from one to the other. And which version is authentic. And if it matters whether one or the other version is authentic.
I am really not into pop music, but find myself dancing to it often at gay bars and clubs and even the gym. The beats make my feet move. However, it still is not the music that I choose to listen to when I’m by myself. Also, I enjoy hearing it on the radio, I just feel that buying it on itunes and putting it on my iPod would really make me sick of it and hate it. This way, it keeps its novely and I can enjoy it with other gays, just like the good lord intended.
….So what does it mean if you just genuinely enjoy pop music and seek it out? I’m pretty sure I’d love Madonna if I was straight, just as much as I love the Hives and Sondre Lerche and Pantera. If it’s that offensive to you, go buy some headphones and listen to Conor Oberst in peace while you do your squats.
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