I have a memory from sometime in the mid 1970s of being over at some kid's house, and we were going through his record collection. He pulled out an album and asked, "Hey, what do you think about these guys?" I looked over and saw four guys on an album sporting the most outrageous hair and makeup I'd seen. These cats had distanced themselves from the Beatles era turtlenecks and bowl cuts and even surpassed the flamboyant sequins of Elvis. It turns out he was holding a KISS album, and this was the first time I'd ever seen or heard of them.
It didn't take long for me to become aware of the swirling controversy surrounding the band. Apparently, a significantly large contingent of pearl-clutching PTA moms were very distressed about the band's appearance and the effect their music would have on their children.
"Don't you know?! KISS is actually an acronym for Knights in Satan's Service!"
"I heard if you play their albums backwards, you hear messages from Lucifer himself!"
To be honest, I've never been to a KISS concert. Neither have I owned one of their albums, nor even one of their singles. However, when I did hear their music on the radio, especially many years later, they sounded....tame. It certainly wasn't the Satanic homilies represented by their on-stage personas.
A decade or so later, the pearl-clutching PTA moms were back in force. This time, under the banner of the Parental Music Resource Center (PMRC), they scheduled Congressional hearings and called on rock and roll to send representatives to testify. On the panel was Dee Snider, front man for Twisted Sister. He didn't show up in business casual attire like his co-panelists John Denver and Frank Zappa.
He strode into the Congressional chamber like a boss, sporting tight rocker jeans, a cut off leather vest, and quintessential '80s hair teased out to the max and jacked to Jesus. His attire was deliberate, knowing he would be prejudged before uttering a word. Snider then introduced himself as "a Christian who didn't do drugs or alcohol".
Congressional delegates and PMRC members expecting a drunken diatribe laced with profanity and vitriol did not get what they expected. Instead, they received a measured, articulate defense of artistic freedom and a powerful argument that the power of regulating what music minors have access to should reside with parents and not the Federal government.
Then we have Ozzy Osbourne.
The self-proclaimed Prince of Darkness reveled in the accompanying tapestry of that moniker and leaned into it - hard. Being the front man for Black Sabbath and releasing albums with names evoking the nether regions such as Diary of a Madman and Speak of the Devil furthered the mystique.
And we can't forget about the infamous "bat" incident.
Yet, even with Ozzy, appearances can be deceiving. People with him on stage usually noted that he adored his fans and was always smiling when performing. Accounts from those closest to him paint Ozzy as a genuinely warm person who was thoroughly devoted to his family. Indeed, screenings from the reality show, The Osbournes, present him as kind of an eccentric uncle any of us could have in our family tree.
He was easily flummoxed by technology, loved hanging with his kids, and cried during sentimental movies. Even George W. Bush, while giving a speech with Ozzy in the audience, called him out, "Ozzy, Mom loves your stuff!"
There's been many times in my life when I was disregarded, overlooked, or dismissed based simply on my physical appearance. Those experiences shaped my outlook and how I interact with people. These days, I have a fairly exhaustive checklist of things I will absolutely use to judge you: Ford vs Chevy, Roll Tide vs War Eagle, TP roll up vs TP roll down. However, because of what I've learned from my personal experiences and observations from watching the likes of KISS, Dee Snider, and Ozzy, your external appearance is not one of them.
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