Boys Don’t Cry

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• June 25, 2023

Some decades ago, before kids, my mom and her sister, my Aunt Karen, went to see The Cure in New York City. As they stood on line, the band walked by and was trying to enter the side stage door where they were stopped and asked for their backstage passes.

“We’re the bloody band, man,” Robert Smith replied with his English accent and make up. I always liked this story, because it’s pretty hilarious they weren’t recognized. Even if you weren’t a fan of The Cure, they always had an iconic look, and basically invented goth (though Smith denies he is the godfather of the future Hot Topic kids).

Obviously, I’m not famous nor a musical genius like Smith and the other band members of The Cure, but there have been times in my life I walked into a comedy club and I’ve been stopped. “Who are you? Where are you going? What do you think you’re doing?” Often, people think I’m the girlfriend of a comic or a groupie. But sometimes I’ll practically be standing in front of my headshot, and I go, “that’s me. I’m the show.” And instead of letting it annoy me, I think of Robert Smith, “we’re the bloody band, man.” This makes me laugh to myself.

I asked my mom if she ever thought, before she had kids, that her daughter would frequent concerts of some of her favorite artists and see the same concerts: The Cure, The Rolling Stones, Elvis Costello, Paul McCartney and cover bands of those no longer around, like Queen. Though my mom and I also go to concerts of modern day bands together. Our bond has always been strengthened by our love for great music.

People say it’s difficult or rare to make friends as an adult. I can’t vouch for this being my experience. While I’m still close and best friends with people I’ve known since I was ten, and despite being an introvert who actively avoids social situations, I have gathered life long friends in adulthood. Much of this has to do with being an artist and comedian in New York City. I’ve found people the same kind of weird as me.

My friend Greg is one of these people. Someone you meet and you feel like you have known them since middle school. With a twisted sense of humor, disdain for bullshit, the mentality that music is life, and comedy is more important than politics, power or individual ego. We met via mutual friend, Kat Timpf, and became fast friends in a constant hunt to see live music. So Greg and I went to see The Cure play Madison Square Garden for a night of epic sad boy rock, where we rocked out to some of the original Emo but rock n’ roll legends who sounded absolutely amazing.

I suppose I would consider myself emo to a degree since I’m an overthinking writer prone to sadness, but I was never really goth. Yes, I love Tim Burton and had my share of Burton merch, but I was also a surf bum who wore neon colored Billabong clothes. People are often confused when someone is more than one thing. As if the fact they are not complicated means no one else is.

There are so many “sad rock bands” I love besides The Cure. The Shins, Frightened Rabbit, Lana Del Ray, Coldplay, The National, Band of Horses, Sharon Van Etten, Lord Huron, Big Thief… I could go on and on, honestly.

In the Apple TV show, “Shrinking,” a show about three psychologists, Harrison Ford’s character (who is a therapist and a brilliantly grumpy old guy with on point advice) tells his grieving patient to put on a couple sad songs they love, have a cry, and then go about your day. You can grieve again tomorrow. It’s not moving on or forgetting. It’s allowing yourself to feel and acknowledge your pain but not letting it derail your day or life. I think I’ve been doing this for years, without really knowing why or sometimes even hiding my vulnerability.

But comedy and writing, like music, often thrives in that vulnerability. As The Cure has proved, you can still be a badass rocker but be sensitive. And I think that’s what I always wanted my “brand” of comedy to be. Someone totally honest about their scars, flaws and wounded inner child– but not without surprising you with a dope as fuck guitar riff. Boys may not cry. But real men do. Real people cry. Real people laugh. Real people feel it all. And when you are your true authentic self, you will attract other authentic people, no matter how rare, and have friends to rock out to all types of music.