Tim Curry was not a rock star. If you ever heard the rock albums he released in the late 1970s, you know that. The first of those albums, Read My Lips, had big-time rock pedigree. Produced by Bob Ezrin, it featured such seasoned session players as Dick Wagner on guitar and Bob Babbitt on bass. It even had Nils Lofgren, albeit on accordion.
But Curry, who died on Wednesday at age 80, never really made it as a rock singer. His biggest single, which came from his second album Fearless in 1979, was a glammed-up grinder called “I Do the Rock.” Curry co-wrote it with Pink Floyd arranger Michael Kamen. It namedropped lots of famous people and had some sax accents courtesy of David Sanborn. It’s pleasant – nothing more.
Still, Tim Curry gets a tribute from a rock and roll website because – 1) he was an extraordinarily gifted actor and 2) he starred in what is arguably the most important rock and roll movie ever made.
Tim Curry, the creator of Dr. Frank -N-Furter, dies at 80
If I am arguing that The Rocky Horror Picture Show is the most significant rock & roll movie ever made, please understand I am not claiming it is the best. It is far from that. Rocky Horror isn’t a very good movie.
It has sensational elements, and for roughly half of its run time, it is both viscerally entertaining and emotionally involving. Then, like many of the B-level films it lovingly pokes fun at, it kind of falls apart.
Despite the flaws – or perhaps because of them – it became the definitive midnight movie. It helped create an entire genre of movies that demanded active audience participation and, in its own small way, changed the nature of what movies are.
The reason it was such an important rock and roll movie (as opposed to a generic musical) is that it engaged its audience the way a rock band would. It had them singing along, cheering its heroes, and talking back to the performers when so inclined.
It was messy, the way a great rock and roll show was supposed to be.
At the center of it all stood Tim Curry. He was mesmerizing. You could not look away.
Richard O’Brien, who plays Riff Raff on screen, wrote the stage musical, and Jim Sharman directed it. Future major film star Susan Sarandon had a leading role. Future rock icon Meat Loaf had a spectacular cameo. There was talent to spare.
But it was Curry who dominated. He wore wedgies and make-up and lingerie. He had a voice as deep as Barry White and lips redder than Marilyn Monroe. When he launched into his first song – “Sweet Transvestite” – he may well be in that brief moment the greatest glam rocker who ever walked the earth.
Later, he nails the ballad ”I Can Make You a Man” and the gospel-infused piano ballad “I’m Going Home.” In those moments, Tim Curry was a rock star.
You can see why record labels might have tried to capitalize on that cult success. The title of that debut album – Read My Lips – is a direct reference to Rocky Horror.
The fact that he didn’t make it as a rocker and returned to a very successful acting career says something about the nature of rock, I think. Curry may have been a consummate actor, but he may not have been an authentic glam act.
At the same time, Curry was wowing crowds in Rocky Horror (both on the London stage and film screens in the USA), and Wayne/Jayne County was blowing away small bands of devoted rock fans in NYC clubs. County was the real thing. She was also a consummate performer, but when she was on stage, she merely exaggerated her natural personality. She didn’t put on something new.
Actors do that kind of thing all the time. Peter Sellers famously admitted he never felt he even had a personality – he just wore whatever character he was playing.
Tim Curry’s list of acting triumphs runs deep. But there’s a difference, isn’t there? A difference between actors – even stage actors who don’t have the buffer of a camera – and musicians – real rock and roll musicians.
Rock music taps into something visceral in its audience, and Tim Curry, as brilliant a performer as he was, didn’t do that. Not in song, at least. Not the way Jayne County, or David Johansen, or Eric Emerson did.
Did artists like David Bowie or Billy Idol or Madonna just put on an act? I know there are plenty of detractors who think they did. I don’t share that view. They wouldn’t have made it for as long as they did if it was all artifice.
They would have been found out, the way Curry was. Of course they embellished, and they have all done turns as actors. But in their music, they were revealing genuine pieces of themselves.
I obviously don’t know any of this for sure, but I believe that wasn’t the case with Tim Curry. That does not make him any less of a performer or take away from the remarkable achievement of Rocky Horror.
The truly stunning thing about that movie is how Curry turns the ultimate camp figure into a real person. Someone the audience actually cares about. The fact that he manages it in a bikini and stockings, and while singing some full-throated rock and roll, is a testament to a great actor – not a great musical performer.
Artists find their mediums. Alice Cooper did a memorable turn in Wayne’s World. Lyle Lovett pops up from time to time in movies or on TV. Joan Jett usually plays “Joan Jett,” but she has a handful of actual acting roles.
None of that makes them great actors. Just like Tim Curry wasn’t a great rock performer. He had other formidable skills. And at least he was good enough to give us Frank-N-Furter, who was absolutely, positively a rock star – albeit fictional.
So we lost Dolly Parton at 80 one day, Tim Curry at 80 the next. I don’t believe in omens or signs. I do believe that every time we see someone who has provided us with so much entertainment over the years die, it should be a reminder to take in as many movies or concerts or art galleries or ballets as you can. As Riff Raff tells us in Rocky Horror, “time is fleeting.”
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