The Paradox of the Ripped Rockstar

There’s something dissonant about that recent image of Yungblud and Taylor Momsen – both shirtless, abs gleaming, posturing as though they’ve just come off a wild night of self-destruction and stage sweat. The visual is meant to make you see nothing but sex appeal and rebellion, a tableau of rock chaos frozen in time. But behind that photo lies something far more sterile: planning, brand management, calculated image-making. There’s no shame in an artist being healthy, but there’s an odd tension in selling the rock and roll myth of mess and danger while being in pristine, chiselled shape. The rock image has always been commodified to an extent, but what we have now is a full-scale cosplay of rebellion. These bodies, these personas, these snapshots are as carefully crafted as any fashion campaign, sold to us with the promise of rawness. And we buy it – maybe even more eagerly than we should – because the industry has convinced us that chaos can be curated, that danger can be marketable, that rebellion is just another product on the shelf. Rock fans celebrate the bodies that would leave an Olympic God green with envy, while skin sacks rival the grime on […]

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