I once worked with a girl who’d been to 52 Bon Jovi shows. Yes, really. A pleasant, bubbly, normal-ish kind of girl, who instead of saving for a house deposit, invested heavily in Jon Bon. Needless to say I was fascinated by this discovery. She followed the band throughout North America and beyond, enjoying every show as much as the last. Naturally I quizzed her on what it was about the band that made her love them so much. Her answer was simple “they make me happy.”

Michael Jackson also made a particular high school peer of mine very happy. We called her ‘Dirty Diana’. The level of her fandom was no secret. Her folder and other school paraphernalia were all branded MJ (4 eva). She was a staunch protector of the gloved one and remained impressively resilient against the barrage of Wacko Jacko gags. You can imagine my surprise though when I ran into her as an adult and discovered she’d had obvious Rhinoplasty. My initial fear was that her devotion had gone too far and she wanted to emulate Michael in some way. Or maybe she just didn’t like her nose? Guess I’ll never know. When Michael died I didn’t think of Blanket or the other masked spawn, I thought of Dirty Diana. I can only imagine how distraught she would have been and half expected to see her in the background of a news bulletin covering memorials of the pop culture disaster.

But Superfans are not just found in the commercial music realm. I know a chick who worships at the altar of Jack White and I’m pretty sure she’s already planned their wedding in her head. I’ve also lost count of how many tool diehards I’ve met in my time. Maynard and his merry men certainly know how to program a fan. And to the adoring old acquaintance with the Wilco dependency – enough of the Jeff Tweedy sermons already. He’s a genius, I get it.

To be honest though I couldn’t imagine music without them. They’re an integral part of the musical landscape, natives if you will. Seeing tears from the front row of a Kylie concert, peeps lining up hours before the start of a show in the blazing sun and Biebermania (ahem) make me believe everything will be OK. Long live the Superfan.

Killer C

*Not to be confused with Stalkers. Superfans very much want their fav artists to be breathing. Stalkers not so much. Strawberry Fields Forever.