What Identifying as Queer Doesn’t Have To Mean

We shouldn’t have to abandon our individuality to be part of something.

Alan Cumming. Screen capture by the author from Them news.

In 1992, I was 43 (approximately 150 in rock ’n‘ roll years). Paradoxically, for the youth-obsessed L.A. music-biz, having a long list of legitimate professional credits can be more of a liability than an asset. If, by your 40s, you haven’t yet reached a lofty enough level of success and notoriety, being experienced can suggest that you’re over-the-hill, past your prime.

I was finding myself feeling more disregarded, edged out to the periphery of an industry I’d worked in for 25 years.

Every now and then, one of my peers would remark, “Rand, you should go to Nashville. They’d really appreciate you there.”

While I’d come from a folk and country background before veering into rock, I couldn’t shake the high-fallutin’ notions held by lots of west coasters, that Nashville was Hee Haw, hokie, unhip. So, I dragged my feet, leaving such advice unheeded.

Finally, with rock turning its back on me, and knowing I still had something to offer, I started tuning in to country radio. The songs I heard were appealing, well-crafted, personal, and emotionally true. “I could do that,” I said to myself.