RICK: HOT-WIRED
Re-energized at 50, the '80s teen scream is guitar-driven and turbo-charged

Rick Springfield laughs hard at the question that comes midway into a phone interview from his home in Los Angeles: If he hadn't aged, um, as nicely as he has -- say balding and maybe 50 pounds heavier -- would he still be out there touring?

The shaggy-haired '80s teen idol, who celebrated his 50th birthday last August with 18,000 fans at Sheboygan's Lakefest, takes a few seconds to answer.

"Well, I probably wouldn't be taking my shirt off," he says. "I'm sure the fact that I still look somewhat like I used to look is a plus for everyone, including me. But there's a lot of guys out there without hair touring, and they're doing great. That doesn't matter to an artist. Look at Keith Richards."

Hair today, gone tomorrow is one thing. It's the energy of the live shows Springfield says he couldn't stand to lose.

"If I still looked the same as I did in the '80s and there was no energy, I wouldn't be out touring."

The Australian-born hearthrob had female fans swooning as Dr. Noah Drake on "General Hospital" in the late '70s and as the singer/songwriter of such decade-defining hits as "Jessie's Girl" and "Don't Talk to Strangers" in the '80s.

After nearly 10 years out of the public eye, Springfield, his boyish good looks still in tact, is back. And amazingly, so is the energy.

The fans who swarmed him during his days as a young chart-topper and cover boy have come back in mass for the current tour. They're older -- married, with children and real jobs -- but still turned on by that infectious, guitar-driven rock that has become synonymous with the '80s. Springfield feeds off their enthusiasm.

"My show is based on the audience. I never take my eyes off of them," he says. "Some of the worst shows are where the audience is way back and I can't see them. That drives me insane. I really feel it's imperative to look at the people. It's more human that way, instead of the rock god bull----."

With both artist and adorees all grown up, Springfield has discovered a new aspect to his relationship with the audience. They know each better.

"That was something we both needed to get through -- them and me. It's been really rewarding, knowing that they've moved along and it's not just about that frenetic idol thing, which puts a huge gap between the audience and the artist."

That's not to say there aren't those ever-smitten kittens who come waving their Teen Beat magazines and "Working Class Dog" album covers -- and, oh yes, the occasional bra.

"There's still a bit of freneticness," he admits, "but it's more mature now."

Springfield still likes to put on big, sweaty, guitar-smashing, chest-baring shows. He almost always pulls a few rabid female fans up on stage with him.

"I drag them up sometimes just to get a good laugh. It's quite funny."

He understands why fans feel a special attachment to the music of their youth. He has a jukebox at home stocked with his own favorites -- Yardbirds, Beatles and Manfred Mann. Fans are always telling him how hearing his songs makes them feel 16 again.

"For me, it's a different kind of thing. Songs become almost like children. ... They become more than just songs."

The music has endured (sales of 18 million and counting) in a way Springfield never could have imagined when he wrote it.

"God no, not even close. It was just a thing of the moment. I certainly didn't think it would still be played and be used in movies."

A songwriter first, Springfield says even during his 10 years out of the public eye -- while he recovered from a near-fatal motorcycle accident and depression -- he still wrote.

The catalyst for his current two-year-old tour was the release of "Karma," his first album in 12 years.

"It gave me a reason to go out," he says. "I didn't want to just go out and play a bunch of old songs."

He admits to some jitters about returning to the stage after a decade away.

"It was really strange. Through rehearsals, I was a little nervous. I didn't know which way it was going to go. But once I walked on stage and felt the energy. ... That's what I was really worried about, the energy being there. I think it's a good testament to the music."

The success of the two-year-old tour has been so overwhelming Springfield will release "The Greatest Hits: Alive," a fresh collection of 15 live tracks, next month.

"It's something I felt kind of compelled to do. Every other record company owns all the original songs, so I wanted to have my own version of them, too. ... It's only fair that the artist reclaims them at some point."

Springfield and his four-man band tour for three or four days at a time and then come home. It's a switch from the grueling touring schedule he kept in the '80s. (He played to 4,598 at Brown County Veterans Memorial Arena in 1983.)

"We've given ourselves breathing room, which we didn't do back then. Now, it's just a matter of fitting it in with my family, because my family is the most important thing to me."

Springfield and his wife of 18 years, Barbara, have two sons, Liam and Joshua. He says they treat their dad's enduring rock gig "with a healthy sense of humor." They're more interested in listening to hardcore rock bands like Slipknot and Korn, which is fine with Springfield.

"I'd be really concerned if they were putting my albums on," he says.