Miss Melissa

Kirk Baird

Friday, Feb. 11, 2000 | 8:44 a.m.

Who: Melissa Etheridge.

When: 8 p.m. Saturday.

Where: The Joint at the Hard Rock hotel-casino.

Cost: $73, general admission; $103, reserved balcony.

Information: Call 693-5066.

In recent years it's become increasingly difficult to separate Melissa Etheridge the musician from Melissa Etheridge the activist.

It didn't used to be this way.

Emerging in the late '80s, Etheridge was a radical change to the increasingly folksy and pop-ish female tunes dominating the airwaves, as she penned songs about the darker sides of relationships -- jealousy, bitterness, abandonment. In her voice she had the perfect means of delivering these caustic tunes, alternating between volcanic eruptions of contempt and haunting melodies of despair with fluidity. Hers was such a powerful rock voice that some dubbed Etheridge the heir apparent to Janis Joplin.

Then came the acknowledgement of her lesbianism several years ago, and things began to change. Etheridge took on the role of activist, and went from simply being a rock star to becoming a media sound bite -- her opinions sought out on many issues affecting the homosexual community. And although it's not something she is entirely comfortable with, she does it nonetheless, seeing it as means of survival -- her own.

For example: Proposition 22, a California initiative on the March 7 primary ballot that says "only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized" in the state.

Prop 22 supporters say it's intended only to legally recognize marriage as an institution between a man and a woman, and not to take away from the rights of, or attack, homosexuals. Etheridge sees it differently.

"Proposition 22 is being presented in an untruthful way," said Etheridge, who will perform Saturday at the Joint at the Hard Rock hotel-casino. 'It's a confusing, misleading statement saying same-sex marriages aren't recognized. But we're not recognized ... It would be hypocritical of me not to step up and say 'Yikes, I'm scared.' This is my state, the state I live in.

"People ask me, 'why have you taken this cause?' but this cause entered my life," Etheridge said. "I'm helping me out, I'm helping my lifestyle and my community."

And she's taking that cause and putting it into her music as well, such as the track "Scarecrow" from her latest album, "Breakdown." A song about and dedicated to Matthew Shepard, the young gay student murdered in Wyoming, "Scarecrow" makes a bleakly honest commentary about the United States' attitude toward homosexuals:

"We all say this can't happen here/we're all much too civilized/where can all these monsters hide. But they are knocking on our front door/they're rocking in our cradles/they're preaching in our churches/and eating at our tables."

If this seems like a radical departure from her usual fare, it's simply a reflection of the changes in her life. "I'm not the crazy rocking 27-year-old" anymore, she said in partially explaining her changing attitudes.

Then there's that new role in her life: motherhood. During Etheridge's musical hiatus -- she took four years off between albums -- her longtime companion, Julie Cypher, gave birth to two children: Bailey, 3, and Beckett, 1.

But her break proved anything but restful.

When she wasn't busy helping with her children, she was busy fielding questions about them, namely: Who was the father? As a national obsession ensued, speculation of the father's identity ranged from friend Brad Pitt to fellow musician Bruce Springsteen. As a result, Etheridge said she and Cypher felt the need to put the truth of the father's identity out there while her children were still young.

"We had originally thought it would be much later" before they would reveal the father, she said. "It was nobody's business. But when you say it's nobody's business, they want to make it their business. In today's media age, I was spending too much energy to make it nobody's business."

In the end, truth turned out to be stranger than fiction when, in a recent issue of Rolling Stone magazine, David Crosby, of Crosy, Stills, Nash and Young, as well as Buffalo Springfield fame, was revealed as the father.

"I think David's taken the worse part of it with his colorful past, but he laughs at it and rolls with it," Etheridge said.

But David Crosby? It's safe to say he didn't make most people's top-10 list. When asked if that figured into the equation, Etheridge laughed. "Truly the reason is very personal and very intimate, and the relationship we have with him is very hard to talk about in such a public way," she said.

Etheridge said the whole thing came about when she and Cypher were discussing having children with Crosby and his wife, Jan, who then suggested Crosby as the donor. "It was perfect in that it was an open-ended gift and given freely. The gene pool was not as important as the manner in which it was given," she said.

And although she didn't rule out relying on Crosby for any more children -- "that would be up to them" -- she said that she and Cypher have their hands full now with the two children.

Plus, Etheridge is busy with that other part of her life -- rock 'n' roll. She's finishing up the first leg of her tour, then she's off to Europe for some dates.

"I love playing Europe," Etheridge said. "It's a different type of show. I tend to get chatty in the U.S., but in Europe I tend not to talk as much because they don't understand what I'm saying."

But, as she pointed out, "they love their rock 'n' roll."

Spoken like a true musician, although she said she would like to try her hand at other things as well.

"I hope to keep writing good, truthful (music), but I also see myself dabbling in other forms entertainment, such as television and films, music and producing and directing."

Musician, activist, producer and director -- the separations, it seems, will keep getting tougher.

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