From Bar Fights to Floral Shirts: The Redefined Masculinity of the Modern Rock Star

December 6th, 2022

‘Resting my neck on it like it's a travel pillow', the 'biting the fretboard', or the 'casual, held-by-one-hand rest on the shoulder, like it's a looming threat or a strap of a purse', and keep their mouths wide open in a continuous exclamation of, supposedly, "yeEAAH!!!".

Right before summer, I happened to see three modern rock bands almost back to back, each belonging to a different sub-genre and aesthetic tradition. When relaying the shows to a close friend of mine (who also happens to share and actively encourage my unhealthy habit of casually spending rent money on concert tickets), she made an off-the-cuff observation.

"They're all so… tiny". I laughed, unsure of what exactly was meant by this. "The frontmen, think about it". She was right. It just so happened that the leading men of those three bands were physically small. But it wasn't hard to agree that they also exuded an energy that couldn't be described as anything other than almost purely masculine. "They're miniature masculines", we laughed, clearly still giddy after discussing the shows in great detail and recalling each humorous anecdote shared on stage.

Although this exchange was inherently silly, and more than kind of vain, it got me thinking. The iconography of "the Rock Star", the pop-cultural, stereotypical imagery of the masculine band leader/solo artist, has mostly remained. A simple google search of the term "(male) rock star stock photo", with stock footage possibly regarded as the official late-capitalist visual representation of the norm, leads to some uniform results.

Male rock stars wear almost exclusively biker jackets or leather vests, carry electric guitars - bonus point if they aren't actually playing the instrument, just striking cheeky poses with it: the 'resting my neck on it like it's a travel pillow', the 'biting the fretboard', or the 'casual, held-by-one-hand rest on the shoulder, like it's a looming threat or a strap of a purse', and keep their mouths wide open in a continuous exclamation of, supposedly, "yeEAAH!!!".

Additionally, the colour palette seems strictly specified. In most cases, if one wears a black leather jacket, it must be accompanied by a red guitar, and vice versa. There are some exceptions to this rule, however(!), the importance of the red and black combo is constantly reiterated upon further scrolling. The version of masculinity presented by these images is not only over the top to the point of comical pastiche but, apparently, is supposed to hint at predator-like qualities (?), especially so when animal prints come into play.

It isn't surprising that these mental shortcuts of images have little anchorage in reality. And it's unclear if they ever had. Ok, maybe a little, in the deep dark days of 80s arena rock extravaganza, with all the bandanas and aviator shades. But throughout the years, it becomes clear that the image of the actual icons of this stylistically broad genre rarely coincides with its iconography.

And nowadays it's even more apparent, with the overlap between set genres and trends rendering their labels almost obsolete (a topic so vast it would be impossible to delve into at this very moment), and the rejection of "traditional" (read: Western, predominantly white, and most likely Roman Catholic) gender role conventions becoming more commonly represented in the media.

This leads to other topics of discourse, like e.g. should we consider Harry Styles an example of the Modern Rock Star, and how do we treat this play with androgyny within fashion in his mainstream media presence? Outside of some reactionary voices, it isn't considered emasculating – more like the opposite, it makes his masculinity seem secure and reinforced further. Is it a sign of the times (…I apologize, couldn't help myself), and is masculinity truly redefined, is it original, or is he just copying Bowie, or is it queer-baiting?

Just like any contemporary bone of contention, I leave the search for answers to the Twitter stans and reactionary right-wing commentators. But it isn't just the look that enforced the masculinity of the Rock Star, it was also the lifestyle! It was the substance abuse, the lack of sleep, and the whoring around! The often performative – mind you, mostly for other men – acts of violence in defence of true values, like honour and pride and ego!

What is to become of your friendly neighbourhood rock band if they live sustainably, especially during the physically and psychologically taxing touring period? That's lame and DEFINITELY not masculine! I want my rock stars to run on fake excess of energy provided by stimulants, looking like they're flies ready to drop dead any minute now, and hopefully in the middle of a performance. That's what rocks. 

'my label tells me to make more tiktoks!'

There has been a cultural shift within this as well. Attribute it to the obsession with wellness industrialised by millennials and their smoothie drinks, heart disease prevention and all. I theorise it has something to do with a change at the very core of the music industry.

Back in the good ol' major label glory days (think the 60s through the 90s), the deals seemed to encourage excess. A band would get discovered by an executive with a gut feeling, signed to a major for a record deal spanning multiple years and albums, and receive a hefty advance with royalty rates of up to 35%, plus additional high guarantees per record. Of course, the fine prints were still there, yet my point is – you would typically get enough money to support your unsustainable rock star lifestyle, hopefully blow through it all in a truly masculine manner, and await the next hefty advance to continue on.

With the Internet era well upon us by now, all the piracy, the emergence of streaming and its miserable royalty rates, as well as deals that give labels a piece of each little revenue pie (for I am the label and I also deserve your t-shirt money), there is little to no room for emerging artists to engage with that excessive manifestation of masculinity. You simply have to keep yourself intact physically in order to sustain yourself and the longevity of your career.

The constant touring to promote the record and actually make some money, with the pressure to stay media-relevant by putting out new content left and right (see the 'my label tells me to make more tiktoks!' debacle) don't really make it easy to maintain the life of a high-functioning addict with a liking for physically damaging displays of what it is to be a man in rock.

A real-life example to demonstrate the change would make for a nice conclusion. One of the bands that I told my friend about that night was the British band Foals, led by Yannis Philippakis. In my head, there is no better frontman to personify this redefinition of rock stardom and masculinity.

What started out as substance-fuelled ragers and frequent bar fights, all making for stories to be recounted proudly in the press, slowly faded into recollections mentioned less and less frequently, and has now become replaced with patterned shirts, floral stage design and, among others, messages of environmental consciousness.

Yannis? Manly as ever! The parties? Most likely still happening! Nonetheless - the image has softened, the physical well-being of the band doesn't seem compromised, and the flashy headlines of drugs, obscene amounts of alcohol and fights no longer front the media outlets. And after all this, it is my personal hope that the schema of available rock star stock photos persists. It’s funny as hell, just look at these doofuses!