The Curse Of The Power-Ballad Namesake

Here’s an introduction to my life story I started working on at a slow (every)day at BMG almost 2 years ago.

CHAPTER 1

I hate my name.

I have an older brother named Tommy. For the longest time I despised The Who because everybody made such a big deal about the whole rock opera. I remember wondering why anyone who would want to be associated with a notably dumb kid.

But what I despised the most about having a brother named after a rockin' song, album, movie and broadway spectacular was the song attached to my own namesake- a pussy-ass ballad about a needy girl who's constantly getting blown off by her musician boyfriend.

I can't blame my parents. I was born in 1975 and "Beth" didn't come out till 1976. I was actually named after my dad's mother.

My parents made a deal with their parents that if the first born was a boy, they'd name him after mom's dad, and if it was girl, they'd name her after my dad's mom. My maternal grandpa's name was Orazio. This translated to Horace in english, but everyone called him Tom. My paternal Grandma was Elizabeth, but everyone called her Betty.

In 1974, KISS' Hotter Than Hell was released and Mary Ann and Frank Miale had their first son, Tommy. Less than a year later, KISS was working on their live album whilst Mary Ann and Frank were working on their second born.

Upon finding out I was a girl, my dad wanted to name me Gina, but my mom said "Gina Miale" sounded like a pizza parlor. My dad would get his pizza parlor rocks off 8 years later, naming my youngest brother Anthony after the Billy Joel song, Moving out. But that's another story.

My mom insisted on naming me Jaqueline, only she opened her mouth too soon in front of her mother-in-law who apparently was insulted "Beth" was no longer an option.

On September 10th, 1975, KISS release "Alive", an album that would later go quadruple platinum and catapult the band from relative obscurity into international superstardom.

Consequently, that same EXACT day, Mary Ann and Frank Miale released their second born child who was initially named out of guilt from an overbearing mother-in-law, but would later suffer from the curse of the crappy power ballad domineering her namesake.

This child would never NOT date a musician.

And this is her story.

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It's still my story so let’s discuss dating musicians. My mom’s been bugging me about it forever, as recently as this afternoon. Two weeks ago a softball buddy told me I need to date a boring guy (non-musician) to balance me out. Girlfriends mention it every time some 2-6 week boyfriend stint I’ve been experiencing for the past 6 years comes to a crashing halt. (That’s right, my lovelife is like a Ktel commercial – wait 2-6 weeks for delivery… of “it’s not you, it’s me”).

Some girls are in it for the notoriety that goes along with banging the guy on stage. Others for the hope that a song will be written about them. Well, I’ve played bigger venues then 90% of the rockers I’ve dated. And I’ve already had a song written about me, and I didn’t even have to sleep with anyone. (Vic Thrill’s “Lost in Time” was inspired by my wardrobe.)

I’m more in it by default. Social Darwinism. You’re a product of your environment. I work and play in the music scene. That’s who I meet.

But mainly, I just like to be around people who do stuff. Something I call Social Starwinism (see what I did there?) I like to surround myself with people who are not only dreaming but realizing their dreams through creating. Who are making sacrifice after sacrifice because they believe in something bigger than mediocrity. Who are taking the demons and baggage that everybody experiences and turning that into songs you scream at the top of your lungs, riffs you pump your fist to and beats that make you dance away your own demons.

Yes, these things definitely don’t hold true for all musicians, but neither do the stereotypes that everybody knows. The flakiness. The lack of funds. The cheating. The self-obsessed gynormous egos et al. I know some really great, loyal guys who are also talented and successful in their own right (the only one that matters) musicians. And they’re all taken by some really great dames who are also talented and successful in their own right (the only one that matters). So I know there’s hope.

And this isn’t to say I’m not interested in other dudes who aren’t musically inclined. I believe everybody can rock the fuck out in their own way and can exude all the aforementioned (positive) qualities in their own context. But that’s not who I meet. And I’ve found that I’ve had worst tastes left in my mouth then all my rocker flings combined on the rare occasions I’ve been involved with a lawyer, IT dude or a gym teacher. (Yeah, a gym teacher. And people say I’m picky.)

Bat anyway, that doesn’t mean all lawyers, IT dudes, and gym teachers are douchebags, so why should musicians get a bad rap? I'm racking my brain trying to think of more examples of non-musically inclined boys I've dated, but can't. Most of them think think I'm too weird. Which is another major argument for not swearing off the band weirdos who get me but this blog is getting way too long. So let me wrap things up.

Back at the turn of the century I was talking with two girlfriends who swore off dating musicians. They were going back and forth about their experiences, throwing back and forth horrific tales of groupies, drug abuse, et al.

After listening to them for a bit, I chimed in.

“Dude, you dated Iggy Pop. Sure it’s ok for YOU to swear off musicians, but the rest of us haven’t hit our apex.”

(Also, I recently heard a rumor that "She Talks To Angels" was written about Iggy's former muse. That's an apex x2. That bitch got twin peaks.)

Anyway, I’m ready for my apex. It doesn’t have to be Iggy or Bowie or Wayne Coyne or Jonathan Richman. It doesn’t even have to a musician. They just have to rock the fuck out.

But statistically there's a good chance it will be a musician, because that's who I meet.