It's So Easy - Duff Mckagan [149]
Things settled down once it was clear that no one was in trouble and that this wouldn’t be an inquisition. Grace soon stepped up and put everyone at ease with her candor.
“Yes, Dad,” she said, “the older girls do talk about all of that stuff, but I think that it’s pretty silly—they are just trying to act grown-up.”
The mood of the talk became lighter and our family bond became a little tighter that afternoon.
Our house and its contents are always in constant motion. Girls are so different from boys—well, a lot different from me, at least. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that in that ever-growing pile of debris on the floor someone could actually find something to wear, or, in at least one case I witnessed, something to eat. I have learned the hard way to stash my important stuff in a backpack and hide it. Yes, that’s right. The king of this domain and alpha male of this wolf pack must tuck things like his passport, phone charger, laptop, and headphones in a bag in the trunk of his car to keep them from disappearing into those growing piles on the floor.
Still, when I am riding my big, rumbling Harley—swathed in black leather, my skin covered in yards of tattoos, the toughest and baddest man ever to ride two wheels—I can finally feel my testosterone return when the loud tailpipes set off car alarms as I roll menacingly down the bad streets of wherever I am. If, however, I get home after everyone is in bed, I shut the bike down a good block away from our house. I don’t want to wake my sleeping angels. Just don’t tell any of my biker friends, okay? As I walk through the door, Buckley rolls over on his back for me to scratch his belly before he leaves on another secret mission. He waits for me to change into my superhero costume. The launching spot for our crime-fighting forays is always the bed in the master bedroom, right next to Susan.
Listen, Buckley, maybe we should rest up and cuddle before we go. Or just go to sleep.
Ah, yes. But when I go out and rock, when I play live shows, I am still that glass-chewing, fire-breathing man among men. I spit and swear and lose myself in the moment. That is my time, and my family understands and gives it to me freely, with their full support. Susan and my girls are often dancing and cheering me on from the side of the stage.
When I come off, Mae invariably says, “Daddy, you cuss too much.”
I’m proud to say that’s one of the only vestiges left of what you might call a typical rock-and-roll lifestyle. In fact, I would go so far as to say I now have contempt for the term rock star. You may be saying to yourself, Yeah, right, the dude from Guns N’ Roses has a beef with a term that probably describes him to a T. Let me tell you something: I cringe whenever that term is directed anywhere near me. Here’s why.
I was fortunate enough in my teens to see the Clash on their first U.S. theater tour. This was before they received broader recognition on the London Calling record and long before songs from Combat Rock landed them on MTV, but they were already larger than life to me. And they seemed truly exotic to me, too, somehow different and removed from me and my world. If the term rock star could have been used at any time in my experience, it would have been then and it would have described these guys who inspired true awe in me.
About two hundred people showed up at the Paramount in Seattle to see this gig and it was, simply put, mind-blowing. During the show, a big yellow-shirted security guy up front punched a fan and broke his nose. Blood was everywhere. The Clash stopped the show. Bassist Paul Simonon appeared from the wings of stage right wielding a firefighter’s axe that he must have plucked from the wall. He jumped down in the pit and proceeded to chop down the wooden barrier separating the fans from the band while guitarist Joe Strummer dressed down the security goon and went on to say that there was no difference between the fans and the bands: “We are all in this together! There is no such thing as a rock star, just musicians and listeners!” That moment remains