FIRST PERSON
BEFORE Andrew W.K. in 2001
Three years ago, I had a nightmare that I cut off all my hair. Ever since I’d started growing out my hair at 17, I’d vowed that I would never cut it. As a teenager, I always felt skinnier and younger than everyone else, and somehow the extra hair made me feel bigger and more adult. Soon, I came to see my hair as a reflection of my integrity and personal steadfastness, and later, as the symbol of my identity as a rock-and-roll performer.
The year after I started growing my hair, I moved to New York to become an entertainer. I wanted to combine all the things I enjoyed most—music, performance, art, philosophy—into an experience of heightened fun. I fashioned my image accordingly. I associated long hair with freedom of spirit and rebellious living, and I wanted to harness those associations to entertain people. So I transformed myself into an archetypal frontman, a character I could lose myself in. Onstage, my long, unkempt strands created a sense of additional craziness, amplifying every head bang,
every body slam. My stage uniform was a white T-shirt, white jeans, running shoes, and a watch, with my hair obscuring an unshaven, dirty, sometimes bloody face. The idea was to create a basic silhouette that would stick in people’s minds. I wanted children to be able to draw me using just a few basic visual elements, like a cartoon superhero. I grew up drawing comics, and the idea of being able to represent a persona with just a few basic elements seemed almost mythic to me.
My hair was the envy of many women, even though I washed it only four times in six years, and sometimes it smelled so bad it made me sick. I wanted to get reactions out of people, to push the idea that I was wild and free. Abandoning personal hygiene was one obvious strategy. Sometimes, I even used fake dirt to make my clothes look as if they were covered with sweat and human waste. I was amazed by what a primal response filth could elicit from people—women in particular.
So the dream about cutting my hair made me think I’d lost everything. My entire identity was caught up in those oily locks!
But then I woke up. I leaped out of bed and looked in the mirror. It was still there—long and flowing. I felt like I’d been given a second chance.
Then I started thinking. What if I did cut my hair? Would I look ridiculous? Would people think I was a sellout? Would my dance moves lose their power? Maybe my subconscious was telling me to shake things up. Had I become too safe, too predictable? Did my persona take all the risk
out of creativity? If I really wanted to be crazy, then maybe I needed to just let go, since holding on to anything as superficial as a hairstyle was going to keep my real wildness from riding free. I wanted to shock myself. I wanted to do what I most feared, just for the sake of doing it. I wanted to embrace the idea that I could only discover myself through fearless living.
I called up an old friend and told him what I was thinking. “Are you crazy?” he shouted. “Do not cut your hair! It’s career suicide!”
That was all I needed to hear. Thirty minutes later, I was in a barber’s chair. “It must have taken years to grow your hair so long,” the barber said. “Why cut it now?”
“I had a dream that it would be the worst thing that could happen to me,” I told him. “So I figured I’d better do it.”
He began to snip. I watched in the mirror, expecting an unrecognizable face to emerge. But all I saw was me. Realizing that my identity transcended my aesthetic choices was liberating. But it was scary too. For so long I had maintained a fixed conception of myself, never considering that there were countless other possibilities, each one just as valid and as real.
There was only one small issue: when I first started in show business, I entered into a few unfortunate contractual agreements. Soon after I cut my hair, I learned that in order to make my next album, I was obligated to keep my image and style. So for the next three years, I maintained my original stage look using wigs and hair extensions. I spent thousands of dollars at the best Manhattan salons, painstakingly reconstructing my hair to look as if it had never been cut. Now that was true craziness! Still, I felt an odd sense of relief knowing that, under the old familiar look, I wasn’t who people thought I was.
Offstage, people stopped recognizing me—not just fans, but also friends, business partners, even ex-girlfriends. People speculated that the “real” Andrew W.K. had been spirited off and some imposter had assumed his identity. People said that the new Andrew W.K. looked younger than the old one, that he was too thin and his voice was different. These conspiracy theories were so fascinating to me that sometimes I played along, just to see what would happen.
And, in a way, people were right. I’m not the same Andrew W.K. anymore. Since I cut my hair, I’ve begun actively challenging many of the other assumptions I’ve always held about myself. I used to think that I didn’t want to make music with other people. So I started looking for opportunities to work with other musicians, and I wound up producing Repentance, the new album by the Grammy Award–winning reggae pioneer Lee “Scratch” Perry. I used to insist that I would never participate in organized religion, so I began making friends who believed in God and went to church, and I even joined a church. These decisions might sound like contradictions, but I’ve never felt lost or uncertain about them. Instead, I feel more and more that I have nothing to be afraid of. No matter what I do, I can only be myself. It’s the only choice I have.
Lately, I’ve been devoting most of my time to Santos Party House, a new nightclub and music venue in downtown Manhattan that I opened with three friends. I love to hang out and run the lights on the dance floor. I do still like to have fun. Sometimes I’ll throw on a wig and some dirty clothes— just in case anyone has trouble recognizing me.
OPPOSI TE PAGE: MAKEUP FRANCELLE ( THE WALL GROUP) HAIR JEFF FRANCIS ( THE WALL GROUP) PHO TO ASSIS TAN TS MARC TAT TI AND CHRIS GROSSER S T YLIS T ASSIS TAN T PEJU FAMOJURE LOCATION PIER 59 S TUDIOS, N YC PRODUC TION RASSA MON TASER (AFG MANAGEMEN T) PRODUC TION ASSIS TAN T PAULA NAVRATIL (AFG MANAGEMEN T) PROP S T YLING AND Y HARMON ( THE WALL GROUP)
Recording artist Andrew W.K.’s most recent album is Close Calls with Brick Walls. He is also a producer, TV personality, motivational speaker, and nightclub owner.
PHOTOGRAPHY ROE ETHRIDGE STYLING (OPPOSITE PAGE) RICH AYBAR
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