Truly Outrageous
It’s shameful, really, that I know so little of Jem and the Holograms’ contribution to the musical canon — only that they were truly, truly outrageous. Are they still truly outrageous? Have the passage of years (and the tragic loss of their bass player in that freak lip gloss accident) made them only somewhat outrageous? Are they still around? Still touring? Still capable of inciting outrage? Still adamant enough about their outrageousness that they continue to preface their claims with the adverb “truly”, as if to distance themselves from bands of the time who were less genuinely outrageous? Sadly, the answers to these questions have been lost in the sands of time. Meaning I didn’t bother to look any of it up before writing this.
Because of this, I am forced to discuss Jem and the Holograms based only on the evidence at hand: their self-proclaimed ability to be sincerely, honestly, guilelessly outrageous. Given that my knowledge of this watershed glam rock band consists of only one word, it is perhaps best to define our terms:
out·ra·geous
adj.
a. Grossly offensive to decency or morality.
b. Being well beyond the bounds of good taste: outrageous epithets.
1. Having no regard for morality.
2. Violent or unrestrained in temperament or behavior.
a. Extremely unusual or unconventional; extraordinary: loved to dress in outrageous clothing; found some outrageous bargains.
b. Being beyond all reason; extravagant or immoderate: spends an outrageous amount on entertainment.
A modern-day archeologist is left with many paths to follow in his or her quest to unearth the true Jem and the Holograms. Again, I suppose I could just go look them up — but maybe there’s no need. Just from the above, we are able to deduce that Jem and the Holograms were either a) foul, sewer-mouthed perverts making no apologies for their faithless ways; b) dedicated nihilists; c) sullen, excitable bare-knuckle boxing enthusiasts; d) sartorially challenged bargain hunters; or e) unreasonable, spendthrifty theater patrons. Perhaps they were all of these and more. Whichever of these definitions best suits Jem, we know that she pursued it with single-minded honesty. Unfortunately, our trail ends here. If we are to learn more, we must go straight to the source: the music.
Though Jem and the Holograms enjoyed immense popularity at the height of their fame, the only remnants of their body of work are a mere handful of songs. It is a riddle, certainly, that Jem could have achieved the fame she did purely on the strength of only three forty-second songs — all bearing obvious similarity to each other both musically and lyrically, suggesting that they were penned in the same time period, and most likely in the same half hour break between Guiding Light and Wopner. Nonetheless, these songs catapulted Jem and the Holograms into the spotlight, where they enjoyed a level of celebrity acheived by few morally degenerate kick-boxing nihilists before or since, Jean-Paul Sartre being a lone exception.
We begin our exploration with the haunting “Jem’s Theme”, a thinly-veiled autobiographical ode that betrays both a need to be loved and a decided lack of kick-boxing in its lyrical content: “Jem / Jem is excitement / ooh / Jem / Jem is adventure / ooh / Glamour and glitter, fashion and fame.” Note the fractured half-sentences; the lack of a rhyming structure; the irritating regularity of “oohs.” The first thing an astute listener will notice is an ambiguity as to the author’s identity; is this Jem herself speaking? A third party? If the writer is Jem herself, why the insistence of a third-person narrative, when this device only serves to make Jem sound like a severly retarded preschooler with an ego problem? If Elvis had come out with a single where he sang only “Elvis, Elvis, Elvis is good, Elvis, oh, Elvis exciting, Elvis, fire bad, Elvis,” he would most certainly have been institutionalized. That Jem’s obvious cry for help went unnoticed is pitying, given the poetry found after her 1994 suicide: “Jem / Jem sad / Jem is disillusionment / Jem is abandonment / Jem / ooh / Jem Jem Jem.” Here in front of us were the clues all along that, had we but listened, could have prevented the early death of a gifted, monosyllabic talking primate.
As great as her lyrical effort to use her name in place of punctuation is a desire to convey the sheer height of her success. One need look no further than the telling lyric “Glamour and glitter, fashion and fame.” Here we see our author’s personality laid bare. Glamour and fame, of course, represent her intense, all-consuming desire for glamour and fame. The mention of fashion buttresses our earlier hypothesis that she was an immoral shopoholic. And the inclusion of glitter, which would at first seem to not match up with everything else on her list, betrays her desire to touch pretty, glittery, shiny things. Jem — an enigma, to this day.
Here then, is the very nexus of Jem’s appeal: exciting adventure, fashion, and fame. Though no mention is made of the actual music itself, this is perhaps for the best, as it is singularly awful. Instead, Jem rightfully positioned herself as a figurehead for being famous, buying clothes, and liking glittery things, without ever giving much thought as to how one might deserve said fame. And though Jem’s bright star has eclipsed us, we take solace in knowing that her illegitimate daughter, Mariah Carey, keeps the shallow ideals Jem grunted for alive and well, so that a new generation of impressionable young girls can be taught to avoid thinking and like having their picture taken in nice-looking glittery things. And, since this keeps them from taking our jobs, and prepares them for the low-paying secretarial positions Jem has groomed them for, we men applaud her.