Memories, may seem beautiful…if they’re not televised

Saw myself on television the other night. Or rather; saw the me that existed 25 years ago. In grey leather pants and a shirt that had been lifted (apparently) from Michael Jackson’s back, I looked like a reject from the “Thriller” video auditions.

My carefully-feathered haircut, reminiscent of a CHiPs-era Erik Astrada, only made matters worse. Watching my younger self onscreen I thanked the gods of video that the camera never panned down; I’m almost sure I was wearing white snakeskin platform shoes.

I was lying in a hotel room following a recent live performance with my weekend band when my historically accurate but altogether ridiculous self came on TV. I couldn’t believe they were airing the footage, a half-hour musical “special” that ran for the first time on Christmas Eve, 1985.

It was filmed back in the days when public television was so frantic for original programming they’d let anyone with the ability to point a camera produce a show. My buddy Bob was one such camera-pointer, and he talked me into bringing my band down to the TV studio to “star” in two live performances.

Bob was a better camera-pointer than most of them and the production values for the show were actually pretty good. My band, sadly, was not. Oh, I’ve been in worse, but I’ve been in better, too. The point is, Bob did his best, but there’s only so much you can do to make a coyote caught in barbed wire sound like Freddie Mercury.

And there’s absolutely nothing you can do to make me—even a young me—look good in leather pants and a Michael Jackson shirt.

It was surreal, old me watching young me singing on TV.

Why the public TV station was airing a lame-o half-hour music show from 25 years earlier is anyone’s guess. I’m sure it had nothing to do with “popular demand.” I can only assume they’re still desperate for programming; a test pattern would have been more entertaining, aside from the possible (no, make that probable) comedic value.

At any rate, watching that old footage served as a harsh reminder of just how much time has passed. I sing better these days. But I look older. And if anything, my guitar playing has actually gotten worse, which is difficult to understand, but I can’t deny the evidence of my own eyes and ears. On the plus side, I now have enough sense to not try to cover my expansive rear-end in gray leather.

Not that it matters much; I have as much in common with that skinny kid on the television as I have with Michael Jackson (which, other than the shirt, is nothing).

But I’m not embarrassed by the tape; I’ve lived long enough to know that everybody was a nerd once upon a time. We all have memories best left unexamined. I just wish mine weren’t captured on a piece of videotape sitting in a TV studio storage locker somewhere.

I’d like to get my hands on that tape, to save for, um, posterity. And by “save for posterity” I mean “bury in the back yard.”

More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com. Email Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.