Hi, my name is Eric and I grew up in the ’’80s.

I make no excuse, nor do I have any regrets aside from rolling/pinned jeans and pastels.

A large amount of my youth was spent in the ’’80s with a decent amount of time spent in the mid to late 70s (the reason I’m so groovy) and very early ’90s.

I remember a lot of my time during the ’’80s though and it was mostly fun. Mullets were a little too prevalent, but at least I could stare at my shoes if that really bothered me. Luckily my parents, who I considered oppressive at the time, didn’t allow my hair to grow all that long. Something I’m thankful for otherwise I might have spent a number of years with an egregious ode to flawed hair style.

Not that it mattered much because I fought against the man, which in this case was the comb.

One of the things that stands out the most to me though was the music. A cultural mixing bowl of music included Duran Duran, Bon Jovi, Bob Seger, Bruce Hornsby and The Range, Bruce Springsteen, Poison and Michael Jackson.

It took me awhile to gain my musical footing. When I was younger I pretty much listened to what the radio allowed. Not that the radio had some sort of dictatorship over my music habits, but we didn’t exactly have a huge amount of options.

Top 40, country and talk radio with a smattering of religious programing. Fortunately, at the time the Top 40 was pretty varied in what it played.

Over time I floated to what has been termed hair metal: Def Leppard, Firehouse, Skid Row, Ratt and Whitesnake. I loved the aggressive guitar, the flamboyance and the lyrics. Granted, I came to realize later that lyrical prowess maybe wasn’t a strong suit, but at the time, “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” (Poison) and “Don’t Know What You Got [Until It’s Gone] (Cinderella) was profound.

Fast forward to now and through the magic of Sirus Radio, I have access to all the ’’80s goodness I could ask for. My music has undergone a big metamorphosis since those early days when I rebelled against combed hair.

As I write this I’m listening to Vic Anselmo who has a gorgeous, dark quality to her music. I can also say I listen to Enya still, Stabbing Westward, Epica and James Paget. I’ll let you look these up for yourselves, but that small sample represents a pretty broad expanse of tastes and that’s not even the whole of the musical mountain.

But I still go back to those songs of the ’80s. A whole channel devoted to the ’80s gives me all the cheesy corniness and deep lyricism the decade gave me. Sure, Ratt didn’t give me a whole lot in that regard, but Bruce Hornsby’s music still brings you back to a simpler time.

All of this is well and good, but this neat little walk down nostalgia lane underlies a dangerous admission:

I’m one of those people who once they are in a car, they are front and center stage in front of a stadium filled with fans.

I’ll be up front. I can’t carry a tune. It inevitably fumbles through my fingers and then I’m all over the musical map. A choir teacher once said I could be good but was too wrapped up with being cool. I couldn’t be bothered to sing alto parts and even tenor was pushing it.

I was a man! I couldn’t be seen sitting with the girls, singing their parts.

Obviously I wasn’t a man at that point. Nobody would ever accuse me of being the coolest cat in the room and I would actually be sitting with girls to start off my day. That latest revelation gives you some insight into why I really wasn’t that cool. One of many really.

Ahem.

None of this though ever prevents me from singing like I am the next Springsteen. Granted the music is loud enough that I can’t hear myself and that’s probably best for us all.

No doubt people have seen me, but largely they are people I don’t know so let them laugh.

And really that was what the ’80s was about. There was plenty to cringe at — the videos in particular were abysmal, corny and weird. Google Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf,” or A-Ha’s “Take on Me.” The first was weird and the second, ground-breaking for its time.

Still, all of this was done without worry of what anybody thought. They just wanted the show. The ’80s were one of the most theatrical decades in music history. Everything was over the top, the tours were large and the party was on going.

I remember my first concert. Def Leppard was on tour playing the Sioux Falls Arena. We were on the floor roughly about six rows back. It was a fantastic show. The band played on a 360 degree stage which put them right in the middle, allowing members to face everybody. During one song in particular, “Rocket” drummer Rick Allen and base player Rick Savage took to Allen’s dais where his drum kit was set up which then preceded to start spinning and rising a good 15 feet off the stage. The two were carrying the show at this point and while it was just those two playing at the time, it was the grandest part of the show.

Over the top and vibrant.

So while the ’80s had its drawbacks — cardigan sweaters — it was a great time for music. Brash and unapologetic it proved the perfect soundtrack for the decade.

So as the wiseman Falco once said.

Rock me Amadeus.