CAN RICK GET SOME RESPECT?

Only minutes after the concert ends, Rick Springfield slips out of the stadium like a cat darting through a dark alley. Accompanied by almost as many stone-faced guardians as the president, he is deftly whisked away on a customized tour bus. A well-guarded suite at nearby Hotel Hershey provides temporary respite from the all-too-familiar onslaught of over-zealous female fans, although a few die-hards linger around the bus in the parking lot. Relaxing in sweat pants and sneakers, he contemplates a huge chocolate bar, compliments of the hotel and then gives in to temptation.

"This is the most tired I've been," sighs Springfield through a mouthful of chocolate. His voice is strained. Earlier that day, in Los Angeles, he had completed taping a segment of television's leading soap opera, General Hospital - on which he appears as Dr. Noah Drake - before flying cross-country to play several concert engagements on the east coast. "I handle it pretty well most of the time," Springfield says of his hectic schedule, "but occasionally it hits me and I feel like I'm not giving 100 percent and that pisses me off. Like tonight."

Consequently, Springfield intends to devote the majority of his time to recording and concert tours when his contract with ABC expires this fall. Acting, he explains, was simply a means of support over the years when he encountered obstacles - miscategorization, legal problems and ill-considered publicity - that hindered his musical efforts. "Music's number one and always will be," Springfield says. "I want to be able to give 100 percent. Obviously I want my music to be taken as seriously as possible. My songwriting is the most important thing to me."

Although he is currently near the top of the charts with Success Hasn't Spoiled Me Yet and its hit single, "Don't Talk To Strangers," Springfield strives to show his critics that he's a "serious" musician. Pardoxically, he feels that he "can't prove anything to anybody. They're either open to it and like it or they're not and don't like it. I don't - and won't - beat my head against the wall. I put out the best music I can and what I enjoy doing the most.

Springfield's suppose lack of credibility seems to have begun following his debut on the American record charts in 1972 with "Speak to the Sky," a remake of a song that was a hit for him in Australia. Capitol Records directed it's promotional and publicity efforts to a young audience, and Springfield soon found the term "bubblegum" used to describe his songs.

"My music is not directed at any single audience," Springfield says adamantly. "Record companies saw a cute foreigner and said, 'Oh, stick him in the teen magazines,' I guess 'cause I sell magazines," he shrugs. "I think it takes away from my credibility, but there's nothing I can do about it. People get so hung up with what's cool and what's not. Back when the Beatles were together, there was no cool or not cool. Now it's so totally fragmented, it's like Clockwork Orange come true."

In addition to his image problems, Springfield was unable to obtain the necessary Immigration Service status, making it impossible for him to tour the U.S. and establish himself as a rock artist. Moving to Columbia Records, Springfield recorded a second LP, Comic Book Heroes, which, he says, was "a more rock 'n' roll effort." Consequently, the album lacked the pop appeal and the "David Cassidy image" that Columbia also sought. Disillusioned with his management as well as with his record company, Springfield broke all ties; the ensuing legal tangle prevented him from recording for three years. When his affairs were straightened out, Springfield signed with Chelsea and cut Wait For Night, which gained extensive airplay. But the label folded before Springfield could begin touring.

Unable to make a living playing music, Springfield enrolled in an acting school in New York, and found it something of a natural calling. He was soon landing bit parts in prime-time television shows. On the side, though, he continued writing songs and recording demos in his ill-equipped, four-track studio at home. One of these demos impressed an RCA executive, and in the spring of 1980, Springfield signed on the dotted line.

Propelled by the number one single, "Jessie's Girl," Springfield's first RCA album, Working Class Dog, climbed into the top ten of the trade charts, and was certified platinum. In a nice bit of timing, he landed the part of Dr. Drake at approximately the same moment "Jessie's Girl" was breaking out on radio. It was the upswing in his music career that bolstered Springfield's sagging ego.

"There were times I thought maybe I wouldn't really make it," he admits. "Occasionally, I'd break down and think that nothing was going to happen and I'd have to go back to Australia. But for me, America was always the place to be. Australia was a real small scene. It was like putting on a show for your parents. I couldn't have gone back to Australia as a failure. I just couldn't."

The son of an Army lieutenant, Springfield grew up in both Australia and England. He began playing the guitar when he was 13 and made his professional debut three years later with the Jordy Boys, a primitive blues band. Eventually becoming an accomplished musician - playing lead and rhythmic guitar, bass and keyboard - Springfield performed with Rock House, a rock 'n' roll show band that toured Vietnam to entertain troops stationed in was zones; Wackedy Wak, a short-lived rock group; and Zoot, a premiere heavy-metal Australian band. During his time with Zoot, he began recording his own material and won numerous guitar and songwriting awards, and coincidentally piqued the interest of several American companies.

"My goal is to fulfill whatever potential I have," Springfield states. "I feel like I started to get a particular sound, but I also feel like I have more leeway now. I feel less restricted. I'll just be doing different things in the future. It's sort of ironic that my first four hits are up-tempo guitar -oriented songs, because I always thought I'd be known for my ballads more than my rock songs. All my early stuff was my best stuff. Everybody said, 'God, your rock songs are alright, but you write great ballads'".

As the title of his new album indicates, Springfield has managed to maintain his wry, self-deprecating wit despite the hoopla around him. "I didn't have that pressure with this one, because it's a natural thing for me to try and better what I've done last," he explains. "I did that every time, even when the albums weren't making it. Of course, I had fears that I would go out and just not do anything. But it's happened before, so I know what the feeling's like. It wouldn't kill me. Basically my attitude is to stay away of me, so that when it does slow down, I'm not going to be left asking, 'What happened?'"

One last question; how does it feel to have been voted a Grammy for Best Rock Vocal Performance over such laughable competitors as Bruce Springsteen? Springfield prefers not to crow over his achievements, but says he felt the honor was "a nice pat on the back" for an artist who's received little respect in the past. "Bruce Springsteen can certainly sing better than I can," Springfield notes, echoing the sentiments of many critics of this year's awards. "But I'm not doing this to win Grammys. The platinum album was the biggest thrill I've ever had, because that meant people liked what I did."