The Work Slut - A Henry Rollins Review

I told you not to leave your glasses unattended.

So! The Henry Rollins show was awesome, as we all knew it would be. I finally got to see with my own eyes the intense and powerful fanatical force that is Henry Rollins.

He walked out onto the stage in the University of Calgary ballroom amidst the hooting and hollering of his loyal audience, dressed in his standard uniform of black t-shirt and black cargo pants. He smiled and briefly acknowledged the thunderous applause, then took his position in front of the microphone stand, took a deep, deep breath, and then...

BAM! A massive flow of passion and fervor bubbled up from within him and launched out over the audience. This intense, tightly coiled energy that Henry emitted was powerful and vibrant, and it didn’t waver in even the slightest way for over two hours. It was incredible. When people describe Henry Rollins as an “intense guy”, they aren’t kidding. He was like his own source of energy, a perpetual motion machine that simply could not contain the overflow of electricity and power that it creates. You could feel the heat of that intensity as you watched him up on the stage, where he was totally focused on the task at hand and completely unable to deliver anything less than 1000%.

He even acknowledged this ferocity during the show. “Some people think I’m a workaholic,” he admitted to the audience, “but I’m not.” Amidst the scoffing and snorting of his knowing fans, who were all perfectly aware that the man never sleeps and is the poster boy for workaholic, he grinned. “I’m a work slut,” he clarified. “There’s a difference.” We all hooted lasciviously.

He went on to explain the fear he has of disappointing his audience, of having even one person in the venue think or feel that he didn’t give the show his all, that he had half-assed it, that he had been coasting. And while this explains the sheer intensity of his presence on the stage, it does not reveal how he could possibly sustain such an exertion for such a long time. It bordered on supernatural; how does he do it?

I had brought to the show a copy of one of my favorite of Rollins’ books, Roomanitarian, with the hopes of meeting him after the show and getting it signed. I didn’t really have a plan; I just figured if I hung around for long enough, I might be able to snag him. But at the end of the show, when he finally acknowledged that the rest of us were human who had bladders to report to and he calmly walked off the stage, I suddenly felt shy and overcome. After the effort he had just made and the energy he had just given to everyone in the room, who the fuck was I to demand anything more of him? After those two dynamic hours of displayed stamina and endurance, I would have been surprised if he still had the energy to walk back to his tour bus. What right did I have to hang out in the theatre and try to pressure him into doing something more for me?

I had gotten what I came for; I got to see Henry Rollins live in action, and to feel what it was like to be in the same room with him. And it was phenomenal.



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