Zen and the Art of Looking Like a Dickhead

...or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Live Free

It’s sad to wake up and discover yet another legend has passed away. This morning it was Kris Kristofferson, singer, songwriter, actor and all-round cool motherflipper.

Maybe the coolest thing about Kristofferson, besides being one of only three people in history who can rock the double-denim, is the story about how he got his big break by getting his song Sunday Morning Coming Down to Johnny Cash. The way Cash told the story, Kristofferson landed a stolen army helicopter in Cash’s back garden, then sauntered over with a beer in one hand and a demo tape in the other. Kristofferson paints himself as much more responsible in his telling of the tale.

I must admit, I know whose version I prefer. Stories are important, as are myths and legends. As Fred Madison says in Lost Highway, “I like to remember things my own way”.

Treat yourself to this version with the Man in Black duetting with the song’s author.

Oddly enough for a musician, it wasn’t through music that I got to know Kris Kristofferson; it was through the movie Convoy.

Convoy was a true phenomenon back in the days of VHS rental. At least where I lived anyway. Some of my fondest memories were watching the movie at a friend’s house on a Saturday and then getting a bunch of chums together to form our own “convoy” of Raleigh Grifters and Choppers. I even had a little radio attached to the handlebars of my Grifter, which really clinched the look.

There isn’t a film that can’t be improved with a bit of Burt Young.

Convoy on VHS seemed to coincide with the CB radio craze in the UK, or at least in the North of England, where I lived. Everyone was mad on CBs. I never had one myself, so I used to sit in the neighbour’s car using his to talk to lonely truckers in code so “smokies” couldn’t understand. What could go wrong?

Anyhoo, when I think of Kristofferson, I think of a dude in a half-undone, denim shirt looking cool and not unlike my Uncle George. I also associate him with playing salt-of-the-earth good guys, so it still always comes as a shock when he turns up as an absolute scumbag in this other masterpiece by Peckinpah.

Most of us just can’t be as cool as the Kristoffersons of this world. It’s just too hard. I’ll let Suzy Eddie Izzard explain.

If there’s one thing working in education taught me, it is that embracing looking like a dickhead is a genuine superpower. A lot of us, when we begin our careers in education, want the students to think we’re cool and to be our friends. Let me assure you, this is not the case. They think you are an absolute dickhead, and the harder you try to look cool, the more you look like a dickhead to them. Once I learnt to embrace the fact that the thirty or more people in that classroom or lecture hall thought I was an absolute dickhead, it was truly liberating.

Once you accept that everyone thinks you are a dickhead, you are free to throw yourself into your role as educator. You can flay your arms around, sing, joke, do whatever you feel like to ensure that students engage and that learning takes place.

Occasionally, it works so well, they may not even think you’re a dickhead… I’m not 100% sure on this, though.

I continued to embrace being a dickhead in other aspects of my life, and it never failed to feel freeing. When I was invited to join the metal band Bad Pollyanna, I was asked would I die my hair black and wear make up. I knew I would be teased by my friends and that I would look “silly” (I was NOT a young man when I took this gig). Maybe, once upon a time, this might have caused me to turn down the job, but with a lack of fear of looking like a dickhead, there’s no reason not to say, “Sure, why not?”

The same comes for putting on a show. You might feel like a dickhead gurning at the crowd and striking poses, but - you know what? - you’re going to look an even bigger dickhead just standing there, looking shy.

Every day in France, I feel like a dickhead. I speak French, but I’m not great at it. This will always mean that in a group of French people, I will always look as dumb as a rock. Guess what? Since I don’t mind looking like a dickhead, I’ve been able to work with some fantastic musicians in France and make awesome new friends.

If you’ve not embraced being a dickhead, give it a go. It’s terribly liberating.

I love my life as a dickhead…

Nu Choons

I’m not suggesting these guys are dickheads, but I stumbled on a very beautiful song by a band with a terrible name this week. See what you think.

I came across this, too, which is very cool.

Well, thanks for sticking around. I hope you found something fun. I’d better get back to the studio and track some more guitars.

Don’t forget: being a dickhead is cool.

Try it.

Stay noisy!

Steve