Lady Gaga, Frank Ocean, Bon Iver
- November 27, 2016 - 2:17pm
Lady Gaga, Joanne
Is less always more? On her return to form, Lady Gaga hangs up the meat dress after reaching the epitome of self-parody a couple of years ago, when the icon sold Artpop like it was 2014’s Lemonade. You know how that turned out. Shortly thereafter, she reeled it in, which meant losing the beef frock to sing the Super Bowl’s National Anthem and actually wearing a pantsuit. It became clear that Gaga’s impending post-Fame Monster era would be without excess. (Just ask Tony Bennett, who crooned the Great American Songbook with her.) Named after her late aunt, Joanne is, sure enough, a songwriter’s album. Though the set’s songwriting – particularly “Hey Girl,” a squandered sisterhood collaboration with Florence Welch – doesn’t achieve the same strange intrigue as even her most inane pop scrawls (see: “Swine”), you don’t have to look further than punchy lead singles “Perfect Illusion,” “A-YO” and the belted heartbreaker “Million Reasons” to know Gaga’s back on (a very meatless) track. But who knew she’d recover with this no-frills, Southern-tinged vocal showcase? Obviously, it doesn’t hurt that “Grigio Girls” – with its spirited drunk-around-a-campfire vibe – sounds like a grrl-power anthem for a future Coyote Ugly remake. Even better is “Angel Down,” a poignant Black Lives Matter tribute written in honor of Trayvon Martin. “Where are our leaders?” she painfully pleads, enraged. Flaws and all, Joanne is certainly Gaga like we’ve never heard her before – meaning, it’s Mother Monster at her most human.
Grade: B+
Frank Ocean, Blond
The genius of Frank Ocean's intimate second release is its scant emphasis on sexuality. Despite the attention given to Ocean's queerness after his groundbreaking coming out in 2012, when the gifted Grammy winner posted a heartfelt letter to Tumblr revealing his bent sexuality and affection for a special fella, Blond positions gayness as inconsequential to overall worth. Take, for instance, a casual mention of "the gay bar you took me to." Understated lyrics related to his sexual fluidity evoke a brazen label defiance that new generations of queer rebels wear like a badge of honor. For that reason alone, the album is important and influential, as self-exploratory revelations draw upon nuanced recollections neatly tucked into serene R&B mid-tempos that enrapture you with their inviting sweetness. Beyond his euphoric soundscapes is Ocean's stream of consciousness, imparting cinematic and transient anecdotes that range from the loss of childhood virtue ("remember how it was: climb trees, Michael Jackson, it all ends here...") to the complicated circumstances that adulthood summons. "Solo" sits atop a bed of organ accompaniment, throwing you into a divine state of hypnosis with the chorus’ "inhale, inhale, there's heaven,” a reprise that couldn’t sound better unless you were hearing it in a hazy dream. "White Ferrari" is another respite. Here, Ocean falls into a quiet daydream, just a lover, their existential talk and an atmospheric blend of guitar and synths. The reverie, a classic among classics, concludes with indie virtuoso James Blake assuring, "We're so OK here; we're doin' fine." On "Pink + White," Beyoncé adorns the otherworldly outro with a gentle wind of whispery undertones, suppressing her presence to let Ocean have his moment. As Ocean reflects on scenes from his life throughout one of 2016’s greatest and most moving sets – his feelings and playbacks about sex, social media and those unforgettable car rides; the boyfriends, the girlfriends – it’s our own we’re seeing in the rearview mirror.
Grade: A
Bon Iver, 22, A Million
Bon Iver’s latest is a rumination on the uncertainty of life and time and moments and other stuff and things. Beautifully cryptic things. One: a river that knows no bounds, that doesn’t “heed a line… or stay behind,” a beautiful allegory for perseverance. Another: some unidentified man whose guitar Vernon carries, galvanizing him to “go in.” Vernon’s fragmented imagery seems to suggest a man at a crossroads. Him? Perhaps. On 22, A Million, he takes the road less traveled, casting his Grammy-winning style of Wisconsin-born folk – heard on his 2006 debut, For Emma, Forever Ago and, later, on its self-titled follow-up – into a bold, futuristic discord that progressively deconstructs as it enacts a meticulous structural subversion. The result is hypnotic, as the album opens like something out of an alternate dimension on the sax-kissed “22 (Over S∞∞n)” and then, on “715 – CR∑∑KS,” he works his sinewy bellow into static distortion that wreaks havoc on the most neo of neo-folk. The turning point of this challenging narrative is “21 M◊◊N WATER,” when the clamor is distilled into a soothing cascade of New Age-y synths. The transition into the next track, “8 (Circle)” (imagine an ’80s Bonnie Raitt ballad in the year 2040), is perfection. It almost couldn’t get better, except it does. The album’s coda, “00000 Million,” elicits tears for reasons initially unclear, and then it hits you; it's because of this hopeful assertion: “The days have no numbers.” Because, too, the moment is meditative, tender and, performed on a creaky piano, rendered beautifully. And because, frankly, Bon Iver’s best, most life-affirming work is right in front of you.
Grade: A
Taylor Tvedt’s LGBT work is hardly lax
- November 27, 2016 - 2:03pm
When Taylor Tvedt made the “no brainer” decision to come out as a high school sophomore in the Twin Cities suburb of Apple Valley, the response was largely positive. Her “progressive” parents were supportive; her friends, and lacrosse and ice hockey teammates, were “awesome.”
Taylor was relieved. She could be herself – even in the locker room, where she’d worried about what everyone might think.
The only ones who seemed to have an issue were parents of teammates. There was “gossip” in the stands. One mother did not want Taylor driving her daughter to practice. Taylor’s mother fought those battles. By senior year, Taylor says proudly, “No one messed with my mom.”
When Lehigh University recruited her for lacrosse, Taylor was “pretty sure they knew” her sexual orientation. Visiting the Division I school, she asked about the gay scene. Her tour guide was surprised, but said, “I’m sure you’ll be happy here.”
In her first week as a Mountain Hawk, her coaches met separately with all the new players. They’d never had an openly gay athlete before. Their main concern, Taylor says, was what they should be saying, and how to say it. Her sexuality was never an issue.
Though most of her teammates come from similar Northeastern U.S. backgrounds, Taylor says they are accepting of each other’s “little differences.” The women are best friends. They live near each other, and share a tight team culture. “We’re all open-minded, and willing to have conversations about anything,” she notes. “Our coach is good at recognizing that we have personalities beyond our lacrosse skills.”
Taylor says that while her sexuality “does not make me the athlete I am,” she also refuses to live a “don’t ask, don’t tell” life. The more people talk, the more they learn about her. And – just as crucial – the more other LGBT athletes will be empowered to come out themselves.
Lehigh had an Athlete Ally chapter. The organization works to end homophobia and transphobia in sports, and educates teams and coaches to stand up against anti-LGBT discrimination.
Last spring, the college’s director of athletic leadership development asked Taylor to take on an Athlete Ally leadership role. Her goal is to provide awareness and engagement opportunities, and challenge people beyond her own team to have “important dialogues.”
This fall, Taylor designed and distributed a culture survey to all Lehigh athletes. A sociology major, she knows the importance of data in making a case for change.
She received 410 responses – a very high 60-percent response rate. Only 3 percent of those athletes identified themselves as “non-heterosexual.”
The surveys showed that male Lehigh athletes are much less likely than their female counterparts to take a “very” or “somewhat” accepting view of LGBT athletes. The open-ended questions elicited a few “jerk” responses from men, she adds.
Athlete Ally sponsored a “lunch and learn” session about homophobia. Thirty-four athletes came. All were women.
Taylor was disappointed. “I’ve got plenty of male athlete friends,” she notes.
At the meeting, she spoke about the importance of being an ally. So far, six teams have signed the Athlete Ally pledge.
Armed with data, she approached Lehigh administrators. She pointed out gaps in the schools written inclusion policies, especially compared with similar institutions. Their response – that it’s “just one of many issues” – surprised her. It also impelled her to keep pushing on.
As she works with Athlete Ally, Taylor realizes that she wants to continue her efforts after graduation this spring. The connections she’s made – and her awareness of the power of allies – drive her forward.
“I want to leave Lehigh with a legacy,” she says. “And not only on the field. I want to build something that is lasting, and impactful.”
She’s already done that. Earlier this month – in advance of National Coming Out Day – Lehigh’s sports communications office interviewed Taylor. The resulting story – focusing on her Athlete Ally efforts, but also highlighting her sexual orientation – was wide-ranging, positive and powerful.
It included insights from teammate Lauren Beausoleil: “When individuals feel they cannot be themselves, they can start to doubt who they are and feel distant from others. Open communication and having teammates that are both accepting and approachable is one of the greatest things a program can provide.”
To Taylor’s surprise, the story was distributed widely. Thanks to Lehigh’s online presence, and social media, it went far beyond the Pennsylvania campus. It was even included in Lehigh’s football program.
As a result, Taylor has heard from LGBT athletes and allies all over the country.
Lehigh still has a way to go on LGBT issues. Every institution does. But, Taylor Tvedt says, “People need to see what’s going on here. We’re doing some good things.”
So is she.
5 Things You Should Be Thankful For as a Modern LGBT Person
- November 27, 2016 - 1:49pm
If you believe post-election social media, the world is going to hell in a deplorable hand basket. Our LGBT brothers and sisters are frightened for the rights they’ve fought for over the past several decades, which is only exacerbated by a now Republican majority within the United States government led by a “conservative” president and a far alt-right vice president.
The fear is palpable.
Yet the reality of this situation is that nothing has happened yet. While our hard-won freedoms may be jeopardized in the near future (and that’s a BIG maybe), they’re not currently in the line of fire – but if and when we’re called to battle in the name of equality, we will fight like we always have. Until then, however, let’s give thanks during this time of year when thankfulness is especially important for that which we can count our blessings.
Because breathe, gurl – everything will be OK.
1. Your Right to Marry
There’s a lot of talk about rolling back the marriage-equality ruling now that Trump is president-elect, and if the National Organization for Marriage has its way (its dastardly plan is already drawn up), that conjecture could become Constitutional. But when asked what gratitude he has as a modern LGBT person, a friend of mine helped put this long-shot prospect into perspective: “[I’m] thankful that a conservative Supreme Court approved same-sex marriage rather than Congress, which means it's just as safe as Roe v. Wade has been since 1973,” he said. Let’s hope so.
2. The Majority of American Citizens Are Still on Our Side
Based on Electoral College votes, Donald Trump will be our next president, but the popular vote chose Hillary. It stands to reason, then, that most Americans – the voting public, at least – sides with us on issues of equality. A Pew Research Center poll in 2016 found that 55 percent of Americans favored same-sex marriage – and that figure is not likely to dip into the minority now that marriage rights are firmly in place. Sure, a red Congress may delay social progress (like transgender-rights bills and anti-discrimination laws), but it will never fully quell it – because the majority of American people have never and will never allow it.
3. Donald Trump Isn’t as Anti-LGBT Equality As You May Think
There’s plenty of volley on whether or not Trump is LGBT-friendly – and we can argue for days about the myriad other verbal atrocities he’s committed – but back in April he expressed support for one of the most contentious talking points of 2016: the genderless bathroom. On NBC’s “Today” show, Trump went against the general consensus of his party when asked how transgendered people should use restrooms in public. They should “use the bathroom they feel is appropriate,” he said, according to the New York Times. Staunch conservative advocates of acts like North Carolina’s economically devastating law that prohibits individuals in the state from using a restroom that does not correspond to their biological sex railed Trump for the position, but he never rescinded his statements – and we’ll keep our fingers crossed that he never does.
4. Children Born This Year Will Never Know a Time Without LGBT Equality
Do we still have trails to blaze in the name of equality? Absolutely. But in the past five years alone we’ve made more progress toward that goal than in all of modern history. ALL of it. Children born today and every day afterward will never know a United States where LGBTs can’t serve openly in the military or legally marry one another – and that’s something of which to be proud. While naysayers are cautious that everything will remain as is given the pending administration transition, it’s prudent to stay optimistic that we are and will remain on the right side of history.
5. We Can Express Ourselves in Public Without (Much) Persecution
I know what you’re going to say – it’s still not safe out there for LGBT people. Notwithstanding the fearmongering – which, I will contend, the basis for which isn’t entirely irrelevant – I would argue that we’ve never been so protected. Yeah, some backwoods hick might fling a derogatory term your way now and then, and violence has been levied (though these instances aren’t regular occurrences), but it’s important to remember that we’re not alone in the fight for equality. There’s still a mountain of injustice in this country and around the world – just ask people of color – but those tides are turning, whether or not you can see that yet. Our friends and family are standing up to those who attempt to denigrate us, consumers are fighting homophobia with their wallets, and more and more young LGBT people are coming out at an earlier age because they feel safe enough to do so. In other words, our reality is not always how the media portrays it – a lesson we all learned on Nov. 8, and will be wise to remember moving forward.
A sense of community
- November 27, 2016 - 11:50am
Community is a word I often hear bandied about at various HIV meetings, conferences and gatherings, but it’s sometimes a loaded word that often means different things to different people, and its definition depends on the setting or context in which it’s used. Community can be based on geography, such as the actual community of Hollywood, Florida, or it can be used to describe those who share a common history, or social, economic and political interests. Then there is the psychological sense of community, defined as “a feeling that members have of belonging, a feeling that members matter to one another and to the group, and a shared faith that members’ needs will be met through their commitment to be together.”
All of our various communities are in flux right now with an overall general increase in awareness of social injustices that exist in our society, and the realization that positive change needs to occur. Some communities have recently come under attack, both literally and figuratively, in the midst of a very divisive political climate. A direct attack on our brothers and sisters at Pulse nightclub in Orlando was devastating, and touched all of us deeply, and is beyond the realm of understanding. But even in the darkest moments, hope rises up, as seen with the lines of people that grew to be blocks long, waiting to donate blood; the makeshift memorials of flowers and candles that instantly began popping up; the tales of grace and heartbreak that emerged from those who survived. And the faces and stories behind the 49 members of our community who we lost but are not, and will never be, forgotten.
When recently summoned for jury duty at the Circuit Court of Cook County in Chicago, I spent a day with 41 other individuals while being questioned by the judge and lawyers for the plaintiff and defendants in a civil suit. I really didn’t want to be selected because I would have had to cancel a vacation I had been planning for months, but as the day wore on I was fascinated by the process of jury selection, and quite impressed by the knowledge and wisdom of the judge overseeing the case. He kept stressing to all of us in the room how we are the only country in the world in which civil cases are left to 12 members of a community to decide, after weighing all of the facts. He used the word “community” several times throughout the day, and after being in the same room all day with the other prospective jurors, all of us sharing personal details about our lives, education and work history, I felt a strong sense of community. Yes, we were all very diverse and had different backgrounds, but we were coming together to work toward a common cause, one that I believe benefits us all.
In July I was extremely fortunate to be able to attend the International AIDS Conference in Durban. Shortly after my arrival I was invited by Barb Cardell of Positive Women’s Network-USA to participate in a demonstration against HIV criminalization during Tuesday’s opening plenary. We arrived at the convention center early that morning in order to get seats toward the front of the room, a strategic move, I was told, when one is planning a demonstration. I had my chant memorized and my Stop HIV Criminalization T-shirt ready to go, so I felt prepared. Edwin Cameron, the final speaker, stepped up to the podium to give the Jonathan Mann lecture. (Mann was a prominent HIV researcher and activist who pioneered the idea of a link between human health and human rights, and died at age 51, with his wife, in a plane crash in 1998.) Cameron, a judge on the Constitutional Court of South Africa, who is well known for his activism on AIDS and gay rights, is a tall, lanky man with a soft-spoken demeanor, and an eloquent speaker who is living with HIV. As he began talking, the auditorium fell into a hush.
“At the start of a very busy conference, with many stresses and demands and anguishes, I want to start by asking us to pause quietly for just a few moments. It has been 35 years since the Western world was alerted to AIDS. The first cases of a baffling new, terrifying, unknown syndrome were first reported in the northern summer of 1981...
“These last 35 years since then have been long. For many of us, it has been an arduous and exhausting and often dismaying journey.”
My eyes started tearing up.
“Since this first report, 35 million people have died of AIDS illnesses – in 2015 alone, 1.1 million people. “We have felt the burden of this terrible disease in our bodies, on our minds, on our friends and colleagues, on our loved ones and our communities.
“AIDS exposes us in all our terrible human vulnerability. It brings to the fore our fears and prejudices. It takes its toll on our bodily organs and our muscles and our flesh. It has exacted its terrible toll on our young people and parents and brothers and sisters and neighbors.”
Then I began to cry.
“So let us pause, first, in remembrance of those who have died: those for whom treatment didn’t come in time; those for whom treatment wasn’t available, or accessible; those denied treatment by our own failings as planners and thinkers and doers and leaders; those whom the internal nightmare of shame and stigma put beyond reach of intervention and help.
“These years have demanded of us a long and anguished and grief-stricken journey. “But it has also been a journey of light—a journey of technological, scientific, organizational, and activist triumph.”
By then I was sobbing, uncontrollably, almost to the point of wailing out loud. It took all I could at that moment to suppress my emotions that came bubbling up to the surface from almost 30 years of living with HIV, and nearly a quarter of a century working in the field. It was as though someone finally gave me the permission to feel all that sadness, shame, neglect and anguish. It was OK, and I was going to be OK.
Cameron went on to highlight the stunning achievements made by doctors, researchers, but most of all the advocates, to whom many of us with HIV owe our lives. I felt a true sense of community in that moment, and the sense that great things can be achieved when we all come together to achieve a common cause. So the next time you hear the word “community,” think about how wonderful and amazing communities are, and the potential they have and what they can truly accomplish. Changing the world can seem daunting, next to impossible. But true change in our community starts with us, one person at a time. We only have to take the time to reach out, take our neighbors by the hand, and lift each other up.
Interview with country's rising star Cam
- November 27, 2016 - 12:57am
A few years ago, Kacey Musgraves shook up country music’s conservative politics with “Follow Your Arrow,” encouraging people to “...kiss lots of boys, or kiss lots of girls if that’s something you’re into.”
Gay-affirming country music artists were already percolating well before the song’s release as a growing number of female country megastars advocated for their large LGBT followings: Reba McEntire, Dolly Parton, Martina McBride and Carrie Underwood. But then, in 2013, Musgraves began leading a new wave of down-home chart-toppers who’d continue to carry the torch through to a “love is love is love,” post-marriage equality world.
Joining Musgraves on her mission to embolden the queer community is Camaron Marvel Ochs, the 31-year-old California native known simply as Cam. Last year, Cam picked up a Grammy nod for “Burning House,” a breakout hit from her debut Untamed, ranked No. 15 among Rolling Stone’s 40 Best Country Albums of 2015. Now, the singer-songwriter is taking her album on the road for a fall trek entitled the Burning House Tour.
Recently, an untamed Cam freewheeled through a variety of queer topics: her quest to find the gays in Nashville, why it feels “totally natural” to embrace her LGBT fans and how Miley Cyrus’ openness about her pansexuality is “fucking awesome.”
Being from the Bay Area, I imagine you knew more gay people than some of your small-town country contemporaries.
It’s actually probably the weirder thing! For me, it was a reverse of the typical culture shock. I remember showing up to Nashville and being like, “Where are you hiding all of your gays and Asians? Where is everybody?!” (Laughs) It's a totally different culture. Man, it’s a different thing to understand what it means to be outside of the Bay Area. It’s a very special little pocket I got to grow up in.
What did you learn about gay culture by being immersed in it at such a young age?
I’m not saying everything was perfect – everything is obviously still getting better everywhere – but I grew up with it being a much more normal part of life. It’s funny: When you leave some place, you don’t really realize what your values are until you leave, and then you start to realize you accidentally learned all these things.
For example, when I first moved to Nashville, one of my favorite people and my roommate for a while, who’s from Alabama and is gay, hadn’t come out to her parents yet. Obviously, it’s a personal decision, but I was just like, “Man, I see this weighing on you. Come on out! Pride is such a big party every year.” To this day, she’ll still be like, “Man, I really appreciated that. You were one of the first people who made me feel like I could be myself.” But then when she came out to her parents it was like an explosion. It was not an easy transition. Her parents grew up with certain values that kind of made it feel like being gay was equal to murdering somebody, and I didn’t even know that mindset existed. So, I was the ignorant one in that situation. I had no clue. And I didn’t realize me encouraging her was putting her in harm’s way.
They got through it and everybody is back on track, but I didn’t see that coming, because coming from the Bay Area, you’re like, “OK, maybe it’ll be kind of stressful,” but I didn’t expect that much. I feel like that’s a very good example of when (helping someone come out) can be a double-edged sword, where you just don’t understand the culture of the people you’re (meeting), and you kind of have to be sensitive to where everybody is.
I remember going to Nashville Pride the first year I went there and telling everybody, “Oh my god, get your wig, get your outfits – we’re gonna go down and we’re gonna party so hard.” It was a small riverfront party, and there were some people picketing and I was just like, “This was not the party that I wanted!”
Why do you think you gravitate toward LGBT people?
I think I really like people who are authentic and who are very much themselves, and I do think – and I don’t know if this is controversial to say – one weird benefit of the fact that maybe not everybody is fully accepting of queer people in general right now is that the people who are proudly themselves, who are out right now, are spectacular people because think how amazingly brave you have to be just to do the normal thing of being yourself. Most of them are just genuinely themselves, whereas most people don’t make a conscious choice. They don’t feel like they have something on the line about being who they are, so I do feel like there’s this special aura around people who are out, or any kind of queer.
Is it still a bold move for a country star to advocate for the gay community?
Personally, I think, and especially with women country stars, we have so many gay fans it feels totally natural. The truth is, there’s a part of the country that is still understanding it – they haven’t quite wrapped their minds around gay culture yet, or some of the people they know who are gay aren’t out to them. There’s a whole host of reasons for all that stuff, but I don’t think they realize that some of their best friends or hairstylists or bankers are gay. There’s some sort of unknown factor that keeps it out of the dialogue in country music sometimes. Obviously, the gay community is everywhere; it’s just not as outwardly present, I guess, in country music yet. So, maybe it feels bold because of that, but it’s not that bold.
You recently performed Little Big Town’s hit “Girl Crush” with Alicia Keys during the 2016 ACM Honors. The tune was controversial for being misinterpreted as a lesbian love song. What do you think the controversy says about the country community’s LGBT politics?
It’s so funny. Some people I talked to in radio said they never actually received any backlash, but then some people do. One of the guys who runs a radio station down in Texas is gay, and he got a call from somebody who was like, “I feel like this promotes the gay agenda,” and he’s like, “I do not care.” So I don’t know how much of a crazy backlash there was. It feels so weird. You know you’re in your bubble when no one you know is complaining.
When you sang it, did you feel like you were singing a lesbian song?
No! Also, that’s the reality of it: It isn’t one. If you’re gonna be mad about it, at least pick a song that’s actually (gay). I don’t think there’s much logic to it.
Who are your country music girl crushes?
I love Kacey Musgraves. Obsessed with Kacey Musgraves. And I’m kind of friends with her, so it feels weird to secretly admire her all the time! (Laughs) But man, she’s done such a killer job. I’m always so impressed by her.
And then there’s fellow ally Dolly Parton, of course. You recently had a porch sit-down with her.
She’s amazing. When you’re talking to her, she’s always got the cutest and sweetest response. And you can see it in her eyes – she knows what she’s saying at all times, and it’s impressive to be around.
Did she give you any songwriting advice?
Yeah, I was like, “Gimme all your tips!” She’s like, “Pick the right songs.” Not all her best songs were ones that she wrote, so she wasn’t really afraid to do that. And sometimes as an artist you can get a little high and mighty about your art and you want to control all of it.
Were you that way with Untamed?
Well, I wrote or co-wrote all of those songs. (Laughs)
So… yeah?
(Laughs) Yeah. I think it’s a tough line to walk where you want to make something that fulfills your creative needs, but also, it has to be something that really reaches other people and isn’t just something you make in your basement for yourself to listen to all day. It’s gotta be something that appeals to other people, so you can have a joint experience with them. I try to walk the line between obsessively controlling everything that is going on and just realizing that you have to have other people in mind while you’re making it.
At this point in your career, are you aware of your gay following?
Yes, definitely. I see all kinds of people at meet-and-greets. It’s really nice when younger gay fans do know that you are supportive. That’s really important. I hate to call myself a role model, but somebody who is more in the public eye who’s on their team is always nice. They seem excited about that, and that’s why it is nice when (artists) do take the time to say something a little more public so that their fans know.
That might be more important in the country community because there are so few vocal allies.
Yeah, I know. But I mean, even Carrie Underwood is on it. I remember being younger and my grandpa had a ranch. We went across the street, across to the neighboring spot that had horses. We were small, so we were leaning on the lower rung of the fence. My grandpa and his pal were leaning on the upper rung of the fence. We’re watching, and I could hear them shootin’ shit and they’re talking about, “Did you hear about Bob? He was wearing his heels to church and they asked him to stop coming.” This was a heavyset, super-country dude who everybody knew. I didn’t know him. I was too little. But I remember over the dinner table my grandpa went, “You know, I don’t think that’s right.” That was a big thing, to hear your grandpa say that. I feel like that’s a very country value to say, “I don’t think you support each other.” I know people talk the talk and don’t quite walk the walk.
What did your grandpa teach you about acceptance?
I probably picked up open-mindedness from him, but I just feel my parents and the whole community – it just seemed like a normal thing. I couldn’t even tell you where I picked it up from. Being in Nashville, sometimes I’ll be behind on (LGBT issues) now because of how progressive the Bay Area is. I’ll be behind on the correct term or the correct pronouns, (and) it’s my job to keep up with that too, but that’s when I feel like, “OK, that’s my battle; it’s not just, ‘Do you accept gay people?’” That’s normal.
Tell me about your obsession with the Indigo Girls.
They tweeted at me, and I died. I’ve been to three of their shows, if not four. And I remember one time seeing them walk by, and my mom is like, “Go say hi,” and I said, “No. I literally can’t.” And they tweeted at me: “We love ‘Burning House,’” and they’re like, “We should write some time,” and I’m like, I can’t. I can’t be in the room with them. You know what I mean? It just won’t happen. I can’t do it. Some of your heroes, you just want them to stay heroes. Like, I don’t want you to be a real person.
Did your infatuation with the Indigo Girls ever lead people to assume you might be gay?
To be honest, some of the people who did listen to the Indigo Girls in choir with me did end up being gay! (Laughs) But a bunch of them were straight too! It was a mix. I was really lucky that when I hit college, an album by the Indigo Girls was the first I found on my own; it didn’t come to me through my parents or through the radio. I found this music and I was obsessed with it. As far as I know nobody asked if I was gay, but I probably would’ve been very complimented because I love the Indigo Girls so much! (Laughs)
You co-wrote “Maybe You’re Right” for Miley Cyrus’ Bangerz album. What do you think of her using her platform to talk about issues that address sexual fluidity and queerness?
Her Happy Hippie Foundation (which rallies young people to fight injustice) is so cool. And man, she’s country too. I mean, she came from a country background. And I’m not close with her, but I think it’s so cool what she’s doing. It’s kind of a tough line to walk because sometimes I get annoyed when people speak on subjects they aren’t fully educated on, or sometimes if I just don’t agree with them, I’m like, stick to your trade. I don’t want to hear what else you have to say. (Laughs) As far as I know she’s straight...
She’s openly pansexual, actually.
Oh, really? That’s cool. I didn’t know that. OK, that’s awesome!
And she’s become an emblem for young queer kids to subvert labels. That’s awesome. I think that’s probably where everybody is headed, which is amazing. I’m so glad she does that. Because as someone who identifies as straight, sometimes it feels very unfair that more often than not a straight person will be the person who has a platform, or a white person will be the one who has a platform, or a man will be the one who has a platform. Sometimes that gets a little tricky because you’re speaking about people who aren’t quite you. But Miley – if she is pansexual, that’s fucking awesome. And it’s so great because I’m sure she’s taking a lot of heat from people who don’t quite understand. But being the one who’s pushing forward and taking the blowback is gonna make it so much easier for the next generation.
Tyler Glenn : Exclusive Interview
- October 1, 2016 - 5:45pm
Tyler Glenn has now become a familiar face for Gay Vegas readers. For a third year in a row, the Neon Trees’ frontman has graced our cover and granted us an exclusive interview. The out rocker and now ex-Mormon is back with new music, which he’ll release later this month when his solo album Excommunication drops. Tyler will be performing his hits and sharing his unreleased, LGBT-themed new music early with the Las Vegas community on Oct. 7 during Come Out Vegas Weekend’s NCOD celebration. We talked to him about his connection to Vegas, his new album, coming out, his relationship with the Mormon Church today and more.
I feel like this album is not only a coming out album, but it’s kind of like a breakup album. With singles like “Trash”, you’re kind of like breaking up with the Mormon Church. You guys are going through a hard time. It’s a violent relationship.
Yeah. And it may be a violent relationship, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t stem from a place of love for the Church. That’s why it’s so much more powerful when you have a breakup like that. So, what was your first coming out experience? I came out I think when I like knew who I was and I came out like confidently, it was to my producer, Tim Pagnotta, who I had done most of Neon Trees’ records with but I also did this last record with. So he would be the one that like when I was 29 and like had just written our record Pop Psychology and told him what the songs are about and came out to him in that way.
When you say in the song, “First Vision”, “I fell in love with a married man,” is that stemming from a real life experience? It’s a real life experience. It’s real. It’s the most real that I’ve ever been on an album about anything. I feel to the point where I haven’t been very vague on this record. It’s pretty specific. I don’t think I’m the only one that goes through this, but I have fallen in love with my straight friends. And some of them have happened to be married. But there have been relationships that I’ve had with men that were married that were very emotional and very confusing for the both of us.
I wrote that song at a bar in Tribeca drinking wine and like reflecting. So that’s just sort of a stream of conscious as the song goes on pretty much.
After your producer, who did you come out to next? Then I came out to my mom, and that was like a few days later. But I mean I came out to my producer and then when he reacted so positively, like I wanted to tell everybody. But I thought my parents, my immediate family, my bandmates, they need to know. And so it was sort of over the period of like a few weeks that I kind of came out to everyone in my immediate life.
How was it coming out to your mom? Scary, but also so warm and loving. Because she recalls looking over at me when I was coming out to her and seeing like her 10-year-old son needing his mom. Like I wasn’t the almost 30-year-old full grown man that she was in the car with. She realized I was being sincere. Ever since then it’s just brought us to such transparency, which I hope that more LGBTQ people feel, but I know that’s not the case all the time when they’re coming out, especially to their parents.
In the coming out process, did you feel any rejection from anyone? Did you go through any difficult situations? It took some of my family members a couple weeks to just get used to the idea. But like I don’t think for them homosexuality was ever a thing in their life. I really had it mostly positive, to be honest. It’s actually been more crazy since coming out of Mormonism that I feel like a lot of relationships have either gone by the wayside, or have become strained, or some I don’t have anymore. So I think leaving the religion and coming out as an ex-Mormon has been harder almost for me than coming out as gay, which is kind of weird but the truth.
Did your bandmates know at all? In some of your early work with Neon Trees you would use words like “queer” and there were always these little hints. I had told my bass player Branden because we had a pretty close friendship. I had told him that I had those thoughts and emotions, but I was never like transparent about, “Yeah, I think I’m gay.” So he had kind of a clue. And I think my other bandmates always sort of like took it at face value like, “If Tyler says no, then he says no.” They saw me dating women and they saw me sort of comfortable in my own skin, never really addressing my sexuality. I always felt like they supported me either way. And they have. I think religion definitely has confused a lot of things because there are things that my bandmates, some of them as Mormons, believe. But I think for me personally and like my happiness, they are and always have been supportive regarding me being gay.
In one of your songs, “G.D.M.M.L. GRLS (God Didn’t Make Me Like Girls)” you say, “It’s hard for me to keep it up.” Is that about keeping up the charade? I think it was hard for me to keep up the image of being the gay Mormon and then it was hard for me to keep up the image of now being this, at least within Mormonism, anti-Christ. Like I live in Utah and it’s interesting. It’s interesting when you can scare people if you stop believing what they believe in. And if you’re bold and if you’re clear about it then people sort of get freaked out. It’s just sometimes hard to keep up the image of what people want you to be. And I think that’s the whole point with this record, is I’m trying to like say, “Yo, it’s okay to be very clear about where you’re at with things.” I want it to feel empowering versus like wounded.
Also in “G.D.M.M.L. GRLS” you say, “I tried to kill myself and I’m not the only one.” Is that pulled from an actual experience as well? Yeah. The weekend that the LDS Church put out the policy against same-sex couples and their children, which was November 4 of last year, it was one of the most difficult weekends of my life because I was being faced with this institution that I had not only believed in, but preached and tried to make work my whole life. It taught me that my orientation was wrong and I tried to suppress it and I tried to fix it. And since the discovery of so many untruths within that religion, like that weekend was very, very dark. There were sincere moments looking at my window. And I still have them from time to time, which is really admittedly scary. Just because I’ve forged a new path and I’ve left a lot of my old belief system behind doesn’t mean that I’m like this whole saved individual. I’m extremely proud of who I am and I know where I want to be, but I still have those dark days too.
It’s damaging to go through that.It’s absolutely damaging.
And then it’s that question of self-acceptance. I think acceptance is the start, but we still have to walk it. We still have to live it. I also know that I’m not the only one who either tried or had those thoughts. Many have acted on it. And within the LGBTQ religious community many have acted on it because they felt their self-worth wasn’t there. So that pretty much is that line, that lyric.
You talk in your album about losing your faith. Do you feel like you’ll ever get that back? Do you think there’s change coming for the Mormon religion? It’s weird. I believe that I’m faithless as far as I don’t totally know how to label my faith in things like the afterlife or a creator. But I’m not hopeless and that’s the difference. I’m not a hopeless person and I have hope that things can change within religion. I have hope that there’s something bigger than me. I have hope that families are forever. The things that I know now is what is happening right now. I know what is true is life and the present is important. So that’s sort of my belief system at this point. I’m not anti-religion, I’m not anti-God. I just don’t know because I discovered that things that I thought I knew with sureness weren’t and didn’t have a space for me. So it’s complicated, and it’s still so fresh. Like it’s not even a year into this whole journey.
You’re on a journey and we’re all on that journey with you. As well, we’re really looking forward to seeing you perform in Las Vegas for Come Out Vegas Weekend’s NCOD celebration. Yeah, that’s awesome!
In one of your songs you talk about driving to Vegas in your car. So how much has Vegas been a part of your life? Vegas was always this scary place to me growing up. And then when we started playing shows, it like became this whole other thing to me and I really started to value it. Especially in more of my adult life. That’s where Neon Trees really got like our first big break, getting to open for The Killers. Ronnie [Vannucci Jr] saw us perform for like 10 people at a show in Vegas and then got us the support gig.
Branden, our bass player, is from Vegas. We always seem to play there. Really good shows. So for me, Vegas is like integral to Neon Trees.
And we look at you as one of our own. There are a lot of Mormons in Vegas. So where do you stand right now with the Mormon Church? Your album’s called Excommunication. Have you been excommunicated? Have you excommunicated yourself? Or does the name mean more than that? I haven’t been excommunicated. I’ve been contacted, but in ways that are less threatening than you’d think. They’re wanting to meet with me and hear what I have to say, but I’m sort of hesitant right now. Just because I want it to be meaningful.
So it’s really exploring how I’m sort of excommunicating myself from this identity crisis that I think I’ve always gone through. Whether it be me trying to fit into the mold of what a gay man looks like or what a gay man is, or what a religious man is, or what a gay Mormon is. And so it’s essentially me taking the scarlet letter and empowering myself with it instead of having it as like this curse or this sign of weakness. It’s also sort of a play on words because I am sometimes speaking to my ex relationship. Some of the lyrics and some of the songs were inspired by that as well. I think the word “excommunication” is sort of like scary and intense to a lot of people, and I’m I guess reclaiming it and trying to take the fear out of it.
There are certainly different shades of Mormonism that allow for LGBTQ acceptance today. What would you call them? I’ve learned that yeah the Mormon spectrum is like way larger, as is the case for most religious people. There’s not one look. I guess I would call them progressive Mormons. I don’t know. A new order Mormon or something.
Now we need to talk about your songs “Gods and Monsters” and “John Give ‘Em Hell”. What was the inspiration for them? “Gods and Monsters” is completely about my sort of breaking up with my ex-boyfriend. It just ended really sad and poorly. And he was sort of my first open love after coming out. I had introduced him to my family and we dated for a year. We had been making lots of plans. He gave me a lot of confidence. I had never really been publicly affectionate with another man. So there were all these like milestones that I had had with him.
The first verse and the second verse in that song is basically like calling him out and telling him, “This is how I felt when I discovered that you were not being who you said you were.” And then I kind of tied it in because in that weekend was sort of the same time I was finding out about all of these false claims within my religion that I tried to live for my whole life. So that’s what “Gods and Monsters” is. I even call out the club/bar that he went to in LA, called Faultline, so that’s kind of like a little nod to that as well.
And then “John Give ‘Em Hell”, John’s an actual person. He’s this really popular religious podcaster and me and him really forged a friendship after I left Mormonism last year. He was also excommunicated from Mormonism, but publicly. And getting to know him really gave me like a lot of encouragement and insight, but also like insight into the pain that it causes when you’re excommunicated from a religion. Your life is totally flipped upside down and sometimes a lot of people, especially within the Mormon community, turn you into a heretic. So I wrote the song basically just to give him support, and didn’t plan on putting it on the album and then just ended up loving the song so much so I included it on the record. But I think in a sense it’s an empowering song, like, “Go give them hell. You got this.”
Fortunately not all Mormons see you as a heretic. No and that’s the thing. When I say the Mormon Church, I don’t even think of Mormons. Like I love Mormons. I think I’ll always be a Mormon in my core because that’s me. It’s more at the system that’s set up right now and I think there needs to be change. And when they acknowledge that, and they acknowledge and make a space for LGBTQ people, then that will be great. But I know like so many Mormons, including my family who are still Mormon, that are wonderful and supportive and do love gay people. So this isn’t an anti-Mormon record, but it’s a sort of look into the struggle.
If there’s one thing Excommunication is, it’s a kickass album. And you can get a copy of it on Oct 21. Visit TylerGlennMusic.com to keep up with the latest on that.
To keep up with the latest Come Out Vegas Weekend news, including details on Tyler’s performance, visit ComeOutVegas.com.