The Rebel Rouser

You gotta expect some rebel rousin’, from someone called The Rebel Rouser!



HIPSTERBILLIES!


And if you haven’t read a few of my posts and Twitter by now, you’re in for a treat.

Now… The other day I made a post about What’s Wrong With Rockabilly Today… And last nights little ordeal, sort of solidified that.

My lady, friend, and his lady friend head over to Retox Lounge for Rockabilly Fridays. And one thing I love about rockabilly events, is that there aren’t any pretentious hipsters, doing 80’s flash dance bullshit to Etta James and Buddy Holly. It’s just the people who love rockabilly, swingin’ and line dancing and having themselves a ball.

But guess what, this is San Francisco, so hipsters are unavoidable.  

I see a couple of broads come in. Typical lolita, pin up curls and a flower in her hair. The other, with her V-cut bangs and red checkered shirt, and the ever-so not popular septum piercing. From the start, I knew these girls, weren’t just there to swing dance.

When I’m out, I’m usually calm and collected. Having myself a good time, with the people I came out with. Meeting new people as the night calms down. That’s just me. I don’t dance, I don’t do shots, I sit back and enjoy. 

My lady was at the bar getting a new drink, while the broad with the septum piercing happens to do a little Wanda shake (where she’s against the car sucking on a lollipop,) while sipping on her drink. Right there, I knew this chick wasn’t gonna leave me be. I look at my friends and lady and tell them what just happened.

Not too long after, her and her friend come up, and she introduces herself to me. Of course, with my group around, she starts to introduce herself to them as well. Realistically, she wanted to get-to-know-me. As they’re standing there not talking to us, I leave that awkward situation and get myself a beer, and kick back with my buddy.

The two join our ladies, as we kick back in the corner. Not too long after, septum girl comes stomping over.

As she enters my personal space, she frantically tells me how my lady wants to dance with me. And tries to force me to dance with her. As she pulls my arm, I keep insisting that my lady wants to dance with the “professionals of the night” first, to get back into the groove. Which was true. Plus, I JUST DON’T DANCE! After she calls me a bitch a few times, I go into pyramid mode and freeze up. Meaning, I just sat there frozen, looking deeply into the wall, as she keeps on rambling and mumbling. 

And as typical hipsters do, she goes back to the group and speaks her mind. She calls me a bitch and what not, for wearing a leather jacket. Now… That’s where the whole “What’s Wrong With Rockabilly” comes to play!

Since when, did a pompadour and leather jacket mean you have to know how to swing dance? Since when did it mean you have to dance? What is this shit? This isn’t Grease, lady! Just because John Travolta won the dance competition with Cha-Cha DeGregorio, doesn’t mean I’m a Danny Zuko myself! There ain’t any dance numbers going on, over here. (Except, I did think it would be funny to randomly do a flash mob, Grease number in public! Who doesn’t love a good ol’ Summer Nights performance?)

This broad keeps going off back and forth how hard it is to find a cute greaser guy. Wait, what? Greaser guy? Greasers and rockabilly swing dancing does not equal one and the same! See what I mean? This shit has gotten so watered down, that people think everything and everyone is the same! And it clearly isn’t! 

The movie American Graffiti, somewhat expressed just that! When Richard Dreyfuss character, Curt, told Paul Le  Mat’s character, John, that he was going to the Freshman Hop, he showed his distaste for it! 
Now, I’m not saying I don’t enjoy watching other people swing and hop… but there isn’t a rule book that said “THY GREASERS SHALL SWING DANCE!” First of all, it’s a preference. Second, Greaser does not equal Rockabilly!

Killing me here folks!

The only connection I see between greasers and rockabillies, is the era. That is IT.

The attire is completely different!

I mean, nowadays, people are mixing everything up. Pompadours and Quiffs, while wearing Hollywood high waisted trousers with Bucks and wallet chains. It’s almost like a half ass aborted Teddy Boy, greaser mobster baby.

I’m not saying anyone in the “mainstream scene” dresses that way. But if you’ve looked around, you know exactly what I mean. I’m just putting it out there for everyone else to read.

Well, I think that’s all I’ve got in me right now.

Aside from this broad, I had myself a ball. The night was great. Talking with the owner of Retox Lounge, Scott, was hilarious. Just cracking jokes the whole night. For a recap of that night, check out my blog for more pictures.

Until then, Pomp Hard.