Hard to imagine I know, but there was a period of time when Robin Thicke was not an international R&B superstar. He was not married to the gorgeous Paula Patton and he was not staring in a “hit?” BET television series. Nor was he battling Justin Timberlake for the title of Best White Male Falsetto. Prior to Sex Therapy: The Session and Sex Therapy: The Experience, and even before the Evolution of Robin Thicke he was just Thicke. On Spotify in order to celebrate the entire Robin Thicke catalog you have to search for both Robin Thicke and Thicke.
And that is where the rest of this story begins, when Robin Thicke was just, “the son of that guy who was the dad on Growing Pains. You know, the television show with a young Leo.”
Times were rough for Thicke and his Samson-esque locks. Thicke was stuck sampling Beethoven and making ends meet as Manhattan’s most flamboyant bike messenger, because his famous father refused to fund his dream. He was pissing off Russell Simmons and countless motorists. Women in silk bathrobes were throwing the packages Thicke had just delivered back at him, and as a fellow delivery boy I can empathize with Thicke.
Living off of street meat and a dream was the life a young Thicke led. There were no Gucci’s on his feet, only Sambas. Women were not interested in the Tears on his Tuxedo or his Pretty Lil’ Heart. He used his bike chain as a belt and a walkie talkie for a cell phone. Thicke persevered though, eventually cutting his hair, adding a first name, shooting to the middle of the pop charts, thus becoming ROBIN THICKE.
But, never forget Thicke.