This. That. No Other.

So, yeah, Colton Ford. Pornstar-turned-popstar. Actor. Out, talented and gorgeous.

Click photo for BeautifulMag.eu
(though it’s probably NSFW and, yeah, I know, so is this whole post, probably, though it’s too late, now, isn’t it? Super-sorry.)

No, I mean, really gorgeous.

He’s fucking built, he wears his gray hair proudly, he’s classically handsome (a Greek god for real), he’s supermasculine in a completely natural way, he’s unafraid to maintain his hirsuteness — in an industry devoted to removing all secondary male sexual characteristics — and he’s tall — in an industry populated almost exclusively by the shockingly wee (except in one area). I met him, years ago at LAX, and he towered over my 6-foot self. He was with his then-boyfriend Blake Harper and they were both friendly and personable in the check-in line. His work in porn has been iconic — hung, natch, and electrifying both on top and on bottom. He simply defines “hot”.

A digression: gay men have this thing for pornstars because, I guess, men in general have a thing for pornstars. Now, I don’t want to play the “Some of My Best Friends are Pornstars” card, but I do know quite a few and am very close with some, and so…

…and you should probably know that the exalted status accorded pornstars is largely undeserved. They’re no handsomer, smarter or better in bed (or in the shower (or on the balcony)) than nonpornstars. Nor are they any dumber, trampier, druggier or more desperate than the rest of us. So when I say that Colton Ford, Former Pornstar, is gorgeous, it’s not because he was a pornstar or because I’ve used his work in porn as a means to an end (if you know what I mean and I think you do) even though I have and don’t mind admitting as much.

I say he’s gorgeous because he very consistently projects that particularly rare aura of self-assured, built, intelligent, handsome, self-aware, out gay man, wherever and whenever I’ve encountered him.

And then there’s his music. Uh-oh:

Now, I’ll admit to considerable eye-rolling while watching that video. Ford does have a good voice but this stuff isn’t the best showcase. The lyrics range from trite to laughable. And you hafta question what, exactly, is being sold — the ridiculously perfect physique or the music? And, ultimately, it’s both, right? Because you simply can’t separate the sex appeal from a man who’s sold, at one time, his body and his sexual intensity on video. But more than anything, this sexy music video makes me think about the way we judge our culture and the way we judge gay artists operating within that culture.

I don’t like the song. And I don’t like that kind of music, either. It’s just not what moves me, despite the uncomfortable similarity of his beats and the rhythms on, say, Talking Heads’ Remain in Light. And I’m not going to pretend that Colton Ford’s ridiculous hotness mitigates my nonappreciation for the song or his repertoire. But when this video and promotional photographs accompanying his music releases make their way to the interwebs, we observe a sharp, dual response:

• there are those who will support him because he’s a gay artist and, as gay men, we must support our gay artists, right? Because the greater culture won’t and we want to be a part of a supportive community and blah blah he’s superhot blah blah blah.
• and there are those who will denigrate him, all backlashy ‘n’ shit, because it’s fun to denigrate the beautiful. And it’s fun to snark on dance culture. And I’m a rebel and blah blah real artists are outside pop culture blah blah blah.

And, as you might expect, I reject both responses.

Ever since I can remember, there’s been a weird politics of culture, at least in terms of the popular culture. As a kid, I remember arguing as to which band was better, The Beatles or The Stones, as if it was impossible to appreciate both. (Full disclosure: not a Stones fan.) And then, as I got older (and gayer), you either had to love Madonna or hate Madonna, as if there was no middle ground. (Full disclosure: despite all the bad movies and inane public behaviour, I’m still a fan of her music.)

The advent of Americanadiapop Idol, in which pap pop culture is now manufactured for approval by the anonymous masses, via cellphones and the interwebs, has upped the ante in this game. Interweb pop culture bulletin boards are filled with a sort of rabid, absolutist opinion, aided by both the anonymity and the immediacy of the medium. And this hot-or-not, love-or-hate, almost… binary assessment of pop culture is especially evident among the gays, where the pull of hipster aloofness and the push of peer-group acceptance is hugely influential.

I don’t understand the denigration of something, the worst crime of which is that it doesn’t speak to you. I don’t understand the elevated status given the mediocre talents beloved by subsets of the population. And I really don’t understand why those are, more often than not, the only two options available. Is it an extension of the American, two-party “democracy”, left-right, and the pervasiveness of American culture worldwide? The politicization of everything?

Or just a cultural expression of our human physiology, and of our bicameral mind? And, within the homosexualist population, is it a “with-us-or-against-us” proposition, the logical extension of a lifetime of discrimination?

I dunno. I do know, though, that I reject the need to either embrace Mr. Ford’s music or to denigrate him for any reason; other than, perhaps, some yet-unknown crime against… whatever. His music hasn’t offended any of my sensibilities nor has it electrified them. I vote: neither.

Or maybe I’m just a sucker for a statuesque man leaning over a steaming sink, shirtless, carving a razor through his gray whiskers.