When I say the word, "Liberace," what do you picture in your head. Pianos, candelabras, gays? Well, all those things are right while at the same time they are so very very wrong. When I say "Liberace," you should think one word. Genius.
The man from West Ellis, Wisconsin was a rockin', albeit glam rockin', bad ass of the first order. Allow me to prove this and in the process, blow your Liberace-biased little minds. He was a rock star for the simple reason that to this day, you will never find a popular performer that can even touch the amount of excess Liberace wrapped himself in. Michael Jackson has an amusement park and a monkey? Good for him. Elton John spends 200 grand on flowers a year? How quaint. Keith Richards gets his blood changed so he doesn't fall out of more trees? Shakin' in my boots. Liberace had diamond buttons on all his suits. Diamond. Buttons. The plastic things that hold your shirts on, his were made of fucking diamonds. He has a Rolls Royce painted with REAL FUCKING GOLD. He put an underwater piano in his pool. For Christ's sake, he owned the worlds largest rhinestone! I don't even know what that is, but Liberace's was the biggest.
Liberace made a living putting on rock concerts without rock music. He flew in like a gay bat out of hell, played some Chopin, made a wise crack about how the girls loved him, and people creamed their shorts. Watch a video of the man some day. Showmanship must have been his mantra. Liberace could entertain anybody anywhere. He makes Bobby Short look like a crack-addicted rapist. The man had charisma!
In conclusion, give Liberace a chance people. He devoted his life to making people enjoy classical music with a pop twist and also to advancing the cause of the outrageous yet closeted homosexual. The least you can do is help to keep that dream alive.
Flight of the Bumblebee