By Bree Davies
By Emerald O'Brien
By Gina Tron
By Jon Solomon
By Drew Ailes
By Courtney Harrell
By Kyra Scrimgeour
Denver-based singer-songwriter Rebecca Blasband shakes her head. "It's a terrible thing to be famous and broke," she says.
She should know. As a cast member of the original, 1992 edition of The Real World, a fictional/nonfictional series that's now a permanent segment on the MTV schedule, Blasband (who was called Becky on the show) became an instant youth-culture celebrity. Millions of people tuned in weekly to witness her interactions with other MTV-generation types who, like Blasband, had agreed to subject themselves to thirteen weeks of voyeurism in exchange for room, board and $2,500, and many of them drew unflattering conclusions about her. "The producers wanted to make me into this flirtatious, bitchy person, and when I realized that, I decided to play it up," she notes. After a pause, she adds, "It backfired on some level. No one got out of that show clean."
Not Blasband, anyhow. Four years after the first episode of The Real World aired, she's still dealing with its repercussions. Of course, the notoriety has had its positive aspects. She acknowledges, for example, that her Real World exposure helped gain her a hearing with music-industry heavies such as the folks at Warner Chappell, who signed her to a publishing contract and financed a surprisingly solid extended-play CD cheekily entitled The Rebecca Blasband. But she indicates that she's still having trouble convincing some people that the woman they think they know so well doesn't have much in common with the genuine item. "I became friends with one of the producers on the show, and once she said to me, 'You're a really great person. I wish they could get to know you and see you how you really are,'" she recounts. "But the other producers really didn't care. They had this little picture of me, and that was all anyone was ever going to see."
Locals haven't seen much of Blasband even though she's been living here since March 1995. She opened for Edwyn Collins at Boulder's Fox Theatre and performed one gig at the Mercury Cafe last year, but she's spent the majority of her stay in Colorado hanging with current paramour John Robinson, former lead singer of the Fluid. "We don't really go out all that much," Robinson says. "Usually we just stay home and watch videos."
That may change next month: Blasband divulges that several area performances are in the planning stages. But shortly thereafter, she and Robinson hope to pursue their various professional and personal goals in New York City. "The time I've spent here has allowed me to tend to my emotional life, but now I'm ready to get back to dealing with lawyers and labels and managers," she asserts. "Because I know I can handle it now. Those guys on top don't scare me anymore."
The thirtysomething Blasband was born and raised in New Hope, Pennsylvania, which she describes as "a little Greenwich Village out in the country. There were lots of painters, writers and musicians around. Like, I went to school with [late rock promoter] Bill Graham's kids." Her parents were among the less overtly arty New Hope residents; her father is a psychiatrist, her mother a German immigrant who runs an antique store in Philadelphia, where the family moved when Blasband was thirteen. Other relatives nurtured young Rebecca's interests in music and drama. She later enrolled at New York University's film school and worked as an actress with playwright David Mamet's theater company. But the music she penned during her hours offstage began taking precedence over acting. She ultimately put stage work on the back burner and formed a band with Adam Schlessinger, now the leader of Ivy, a Seed/Atlantic signee. "It was sort of Manchester-pop stuff," she says of that group's sound. "But after a while I started getting into Bob Dylan and things like that, and my direction kind of changed."
It was around this period that Blasband was chosen for The Real World, which was inspired by a bizarre series of documentaries featuring a single family, the Louds, that ran on the Public Broadcasting System during the Seventies. The Loud kin allowed a film crew to trail them everywhere as part of an effort to compose a portrait of the typical American clan, but they wound up anxious and upset, mainly because son Lance Loud chose to come out of the closet about his homosexuality during filming.
The completed Loud opus, which comedian Albert Brooks satirized in his amusing directorial debut, 1979's Real Life, was both undeniably intriguing and rather silly--a perfect combination for MTV. By gathering under one roof young people from disparate backgrounds, the Real World creators hoped to provoke Lancelike conflicts that would divert cable viewers bored with videos in which cock-rockers flipped their tresses and glasses broke in slow motion. "I think some of the producers entered into the whole thing with a sociological point of view," Blasband says. "But the producers who came from soaps and trash journalism saw it more as a soap opera where they didn't have to pay the actors." This last factor is important. Because Real World cast members are ostensibly just being themselves, they do not receive residuals routinely paid to actors whenever a TV show on which they appear is aired and/or replayed. Had the rules been otherwise, The Real World would have made Blasband a very wealthy woman.