Watching My Heroes Turn Human In Front of Me

In my middle school years I had a pretty intense obsession with the television show Growing Pains. In retrospect, I remember almost nothing about it besides Kirk Cameron (oof), Leonardo DiCaprio, the show’s writing giving Tracy Gold a real-life eating disorder, and “SHOW ME THAT SMILE AGAIN (ooh show me that smile!!),” but something about it really struck a chord with me at the time.

I’m sorry to ruin your opinion of me as a man with impeccable taste.

One episode in particular wormed its way into my brain and refused to ever leave. Youngest brother Ben wins a contest to meet his favorite singer, who he idolizes, but when he gets backstage, the man is a total cad — rude to Ben, cheating on his wife, etc. etc. Ben learns the hard lesson that you should never meet your heroes.

Somehow, thankfully, I managed to ignore that plot, and that mantra, despite them sounding endless alarms in my brain back in early 2013. At the time, my favorite band, Saves the Day, were crowdfunding their new album (which ended up becoming their eighth, the self-titled Saves the Day), and the reward I chose for my pledge was the opportunity to work as their roadie for a day on their next tour.

Yeah, I paid $200 to work. It was the best decision I ever made in my life.

A lot of that ended up having nothing to do with the band or their music itself. Spending that much time outside my comfort zone and my usual circle of friends really made me reevaluate some of my beliefs for the better. Driving two hours away and attending a concert alone for the first time helped me realize how easy and fun it actually is, and gave me the courage to start doing it all the time. Talking about the experience online helped me find like-minded friends, many of whom I’m still close to, and really become a part of this scene rather than a guy who just goes to concerts sometimes. All of those results are priceless.

But the part of this experience that I really wanted to talk about this week was the part where I met my hero.

It probably goes without saying that I relate deeply to Saves the Day’s lead singer and lyricist, Chris Conley. I’ve always seen so much of myself in him, or at least the part of his soul he bares in his lyrics. He’s the 19 year old who mentions how much he misses his mom on his breakout punk record. Who writes songs about the necessity of emotion and how much of a victory it can be just to make it on your own. Whose view of the world is so closely tied into people’s feelings, his fear of the world based on seeing the pain inflicted on others, his justice based on alleviating that pain, his path forward based on coming together, his view of others based on “the beating of their hearts, not the swelling of their heads.” Conley wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, and for better or for worse, it’s the way I’ve always lived as well. Like me, Conley is deeply sensitive, almost embarrassingly earnest, and focused on his current whim/muse to the point where it can scare others off.

I suppose the way I see myself reflected in Conley’s work isn’t unusual, especially in the world of music and especially when it comes to emo, which strongly encourages both the creator and the listener to put pieces of themselves into the music. I know every Saves the Day fan I’ve met could probably echo sentiments similar to mine. I guess I just said all this to reiterate how personal Saves the Day’s music is to me, and how momentous it was to be meeting Conley. I don’t know if I was more excited or scared; either way, all the emotion made me sick for several days afterwards.

So, how was it? I’m proud to report that meeting the members of Saves the Day* was everything I’d hoped it would be. Conley was gracious and friendly, open, and funnier than I expected. He actually gave me a shout out from stage when I was helping to swap out guitars on stage at one point in the set. Amazingly, astoundingly to me, he’s remembered me ever since, and has been just as kind every subsequent time I’ve been lucky enough to say hello, even when I’ve maybe said something stupid or maybe momentarily gotten a bit too familiar. I am still, to this day, utterly enamored with him.

*I’m mostly talking about Conley specifically in this article for reasons that will become even more clear as we go along, but I need to mention that every other member of Saves the Day was just as wonderful to meet, and guitarist Arun Bali and bassist Rodrigo Palma [whose still-excellent, still-daily livestream I gave a shout-out in issue one of this newsletter] were especially great and have remained so ever since. They’re kind, consistent pals who make me feel good every time I speak to them.

Despite it all, I do think that episode of Growing Pains had something important to teach, but it wasn’t “never meet your heroes.” It’s that you need to remember that celebrities aren’t their songs, their interviews, or the qualities you’ve projected onto them; they’re real people with their own personalities, their own strengths and weaknesses, their own flaws. One of my other musical heroes, the Wonder Years’ Dan Campbell, probably sums it up best: “Growing up means watching my heroes turn human in front of me.”

Being human doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. My favorite moments from that day working as Saves the Day’s roadie were indeed the most human, be it Bali introducing a friend and telling the story about how they hated each other the first time they met, Palma telling the story of how he accidentally stole his favorite tour t-shirt from an ex, or Conley freaking out about Breaking Bad spoilers or making goofy, MST3K-esque commentary over “What Does the Fox Say?” I like them all the more because they’re genuine, real people, not rock stars or “posers.”

But accepting that people are human also means accepting the bad with the good. Conley had a few rough years in the back half of the 2010s, and I was, unfortunately, present for the incident that publicly kicked them off. This was back in 2016, about two-thirds of the way through the “Where’s The Band?” tour, where five frontmen from popular punk and emo bands set out on their own and played acoustic versions of their greatest hits and deepest cuts. It’s an amazing idea, and the tour lived up to the concept; I caught it in Philadelphia, and it was easily one of the best shows I attended that entire year.

At that Philadelphia show, I managed to say hi to Conley, and out of the kindness of his heart, he put me on the guest-list for the sold-out Asbury Park date a few nights later. That night may have been one of those times when I pushed my luck a bit, venturing backstage before the show to say hi when I wasn’t sure if it was okay or not (I was allowed, but I wasn’t sure if I was invited or not). Conley was as kind and welcoming as always, but there was also a strange vibe in the air. In retrospect, there was clearly more going on than I’m even now aware of, but I definitely felt some guilt that perhaps I played some small part in what happened next.

Acoustic sets are quiet, while drunk people are often quite loud. A couple times throughout the night it became hard to hear the musicians over the crowd, and several of the musicians spoke up, but in the end it was Conley — who’d been visibly drunk, but amusingly so, most of the set — who ended up telling off the crowd, going into an utterly bizarre, slightly unhinged, impromptu a capella rendition of “Three Miles Down,” storming off stage and not coming back. Rumors swirled about what happened next backstage, and about the venue handling it poorly, but the one thing that was perfectly clear was that it was unimaginably upsetting to watch.

It’s hard to see someone you look up to screw up. This hurt because it ruined the rest of the show (though Matt Pryor tried his damndest to patch things up), because it perhaps ruined the entire concept of the tour (while Where’s the Band played the rest of that tour without Conley, it’s never returned), and because I had to see other fans and even a few news outlets trash Conley, and I wasn’t sure how to stand up for him, or even if I should. More importantly, though, it hurt because I knew Conley. Maybe not well — I’ll never claim that we’re buddies or anything — but I still knew him as more than just that guy on a stage singing songs. Sure, a part of me was upset that the evening was ruined, but mostly I was just worried about someone I cared about.

It was a bizarre and upsetting position to be in. I was close enough to be there when things began, but not to see how they played out; someone I really cared about was clearly going through something, but I was powerless to do anything to help. I eventually was able to pass along my well-wishes to an appreciative Conley, but it didn’t do much to help me feel better, especially over the next few years of minimal activity from Saves the Day and obvious, but not public, struggles with alcohol for Conley (it’s been a huge sigh of relief to watch him bounce back in 2019 and 2020). What do you do when you’re just close enough to a situation for it to his this hard, but not close enough to do anything about it, or even talk about it without being in an awkward situation? I didn’t really know anyone who had been through anything similar. Degrassi didn’t prepare me for this.

Compounding things was that I still saw myself in Conley, even his flaws. The way he flipped out on the crowd — justly, sure, but totally disproportionately — reminded me a lot of my temper, of the way I’d just lose it at the drop of a hat when I was young and still had a lot of repressed feelings inside of me that had nowhere to go. It stung to see parts of myself I hated and worked hard to root out reflected back at me, but it hurt worse to see someone I admired — someone who helped me learn how to deal with those problems — struggle with them himself.

Ultimately, the most comfort I got during this time came from a friend of mine who was acquaintances with the late Harris Wittels. They’d been associated with the same improv troupe, and for this reason Wittels’ death hit him especially hard, but like my situation, they hadn’t been close enough for him to do anything about it or really mourn him as anything other than a celebrity. Neither of us had easy answers about how to deal with it, but as with most things in my life, just knowing I wasn’t alone helped greatly. What my friend said was that if we didn’t invest in it so closely, so personally, if we didn’t care, then art wouldn’t matter. It’s certainly true with myself and Conley and Saves the Day.

So was it worth it to meet my hero? Absolutely. For me the good has far outweighed the bad, but even if it hadn’t, I think it’s important to learn that those we look up to are flawed people just like us. It’s made my relationship with art more complex, but more rewarding as well.

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CHECK OUT

Let’s be real: if there’s one thing I hope to accomplish in my life, it’s getting people to listen to Saves the Day. If you have any inclination towards punk or hardcore music, start with their 1999 album Through Being Cool. If not, lead with the record that got them some mainstream recognition, 2001’s Stay What You Are. Or — wildcard pick here — if you tend to think this style of music is too juvenile (as some do), listen to 2013’s self-titled record, Saves the Day. It still has the earnest, emotional pleas of Saves’ best work, but told from the perspective of artists now in their late 30s and early 40s, many now married or with kids. It’s fun, but it’s mature, and that rules.

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OH WAIT, I DO REMEMBER ONE OTHER THING ABOUT GROWING PAINS

Remember that time when a pre-Chandler Matthew Perry had a recurring role as Carol’s new boyfriend, and after three episodes he’s killed off to teach a lesson about drinking and driving? That was wild.

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ONE LAST THING: ABOUT THAT LAST INSTALLMENT

After talking about Tiger King in the previous installment of this illustrious newsletter, and maybe being a bit too kind to it even in my very tempered waffling, I wanted to link y’all to this really thoughtful piece them did on it last week, “Joe Exotic is Not Your Gay Icon.”

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ABOUT

“Do You Know What I Love the Most?” is a newsletter from Spencer Irwin. Spencer is an enthusiast and writer from Newark, Delaware, who likes punk rock, comic books, working out, breakfast, and most of all, stories. His previous work appeared on Retcon Punch, One Week One Band, and Crisis on Infinite Chords, and he can be found on Twitter at @ThatSpenceGuy. If you like this newsletter, please subscribe and share with your friends!