Dear Fiona: When I was 13 I couldn’t tell that you were just really drunk and making kind of an ass of yourself and I really, really took this seriously. But you were still kind of right. Well, except about quoting Maya Angelou… But I quoted Trent Reznor at a high school assembly once, so I feel you.

I’m glad I didn’t grow up in the public eye, and I’m glad that you went on to make two fairly excellent records. I hear that you’ve got another one on the way. That’s cool.

But I guess thanks for making an ass of yourself at the 1997 MTV Video Music Awards. And thanks for going through your shit in public. And also, I’m glad that you turned out alright.

Hang tough, Fiona. I’ve got your back.

 

I grew up with computers. I don’t remember a time my family didn’t have one. I remember being one of the first kids who had the internet and learning about how to deal with PMS and boys (also, girls because fuck yes progressive teen websites of the 1990s!) from gURL.org.

And of course, this was the beginning of MUSIC ON THE INTERNET. The first video I saw on a computer screen was:

…because it was on the disc that shipped with Windows ’95.

Then there were enhanced CDs which were kind of AWESOME (at the time) and, thankfully somewhat short-lived.

Fiona Apple released her first record in 1996 and it was PERFECT TIMING for me. I was a grumpy kid who knew far too many words. I was also kind of a loose cannon – so finally there was this weirdo girl singer who also played the piano and liked rolling around on the floor. ..

 

 

 

 

 

…and being devoured by couches. Everyone else in the world seemed to be deeply annoyed by Fiona Apple. There were endless discussions of her weight and her Lolita-esque music videos… I didn’t care. I still don’t care. Junior high (and high school) are all about being as emotional as possible. It’s an experiment – and frankly, if you don’t get it out of your system then, well, you’ll be doomed to lather, rinse, and repeat for the rest of your life (not that I would know or anything). Fiona Apple grew up to be a widely respected musician, and perhaps some of that has a bit to do with genius producer Jon Brion

Beck. Oh, Beck. You just don’t age or… get normal. Thanks for that.

I still actively listen to Eels – I think E. is the best. The guy can take a simple phrase and just, I don’t know – punch you right in the gut with it. There’s also a pretty good chance that this video solidified my my obsession with the guys-in-glasses-and-cardigans look. No one dressed like that in my town and it seemed SO HIP. Until I got to art school and all the boys looked like E. Which was nice. Except they were all more into GIRLS who dressed like E. Or, you know. Boys.

We need to talk about Radiohead. OK Computer came out in 1997 and (obviously) it changed my life. It really did – Radiohead isn’t a laughing matter. I know that they’ve become this sacred cow, but for good reason. They’ve had a 20 year career and only put out one (debatable) dud of a record. Again, I didn’t know anyone else who listened to Radiohead – except for a very small handful of kids who also spent all of their spare time in the art room… This was around the time when everyone my age was obsessed with Tupac and Biggie – and to a lesser extent, Busta and Jay-Z. I DETESTED hip-hip and didn’t understand why white kids from rural Maine were interested in videos about big booties and gold chains. I realize now that was maybe a little prejudiced on my part, and I have since developed a fairly healthy obsession with Jay-Z (and a love for Kanye, who, lest we forget, worked with Jon Brion in 2005). But this is about Radiohead. Back in 1997 they had exactly the world view I had (or desperately wanted to have…) I was deeply insecure about being perceived as dumb because, well… I was very hyperactive and had no filter. Thom Yorke seemed balanced and earnest but in a detached kind of way. I wanted so badly to learn how to be cool and detached. I still want to know.

Then came (what I thought) was indie rock. I had subscriptions to Rolling Stone, Spin, and Alternative Press. Wow, the mid-’90′s were amazing:

I know there was an official video for this but I remember watching this and having my mind blown.Actually, kind of amazed I even have a mind left to be blown after what I apparently went through fifteen years ago…

 

We’re getting to the mid-’90s. We should probably take a nice break here before I discover black nail polish, yeah?

I really, really loved R&B.

I told people not to bring this record to my 12th birthday party because I was “over it”.

Man, this song is so good. We used to do warm-ups to this in my dance class every week. That and THIS:

This was formative.

And Janet got sexy right around the time I had to watch The Video in health class. Coincidence? I DOUBT it. And really, what is going ON in this video? Either way, I used to dream of mastering the dance sequence that starts at 3:09. You know the one. I’ll wait…

While we’re at it, there is no image that sums up music in the early ’90s more effectively than this Rolling Stone cover. I mean it, read the copy:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, I need a cold shower. While I do that, let’s ease into the mid-’90s with some cool, refreshing…

Alright, I’m sorry. Here’s Duran Duran chillin’ at the Aquarium wearing puffy shirts:

Indeed.

To Be Continued…

 

Lately pretty much every time I end up at a social gathering – be it a bar, a party, a club or a living room, the topic of ’90′s music comes up. This is likely because it is amusing to think of things that are now “so long ago”! In reality, 20 years isn’t so long ago – unless of course one is in their 20s… which I am. I’m wondering when someone is going to get around to making The Big Chill for my generation. Actually… please don’t. We are far, far more self-obsessed than the boomers were, please don’t encourage us.

I was, fittingly, in first grade at the start of the 90s. I was on a pretty steady diet of Debbie Gibson and Paula Abdul…

Basically anything that got a lot of play at the local roller rink… I can still smell pizza, pop-corn and that spray they use to disinfect skates any time I hear ANYTHING off of Rhythm Nation.

Then, oh yes THEN we got MTV, and it CHANGED MY LIFE. And uh, probably ruined my parent’s life until Junior High when I discovered vinyl.

Mariah Carey put out her first record in 1990 and her second in 1991 – and a cursory glance at the iTunes store tells me that she basically HASN’T STOPPED.

This woman is why I am, at 28 years old, still a hairbrush singer. Granted my alone time singalongs have gone to a more Kate Bush place (on good nights. On more emo nights we’re talking “Purple Rain”… or, you know… the ENTIRE Bright Eyes catalog). I don’t remember listening to anything other than Mariah Carey’s first two records and like… Disney soundtracks until I found out about Smashing Pumpkins.

Well, that’s not ENTIRELY true.

And OBVIOUSLY I remember seeing THIS on repeat for basically four years:

What I remember most about Nirvana – and I mean when Kurt was still alive and showing up on MTV -lovely, beautiful early 90s MTV which I’m fairly certain taught me how to be EVERYTHING I am today – is seeing this kid wearing a Nevermind T-shirt on a boat. I don’t remember specifically which “boat time” this was for me. There are pictures of me in a sailor’s hat. I only remember that my mom was offended by the naked baby in the picture and made a comment. This was formative. I made a mental note: “This Nirvana thing offends parents somehow – but not in the same way Mariah Carey does. Nirvana is for Big Kids, and I am Not a Big Kid.” I was probably 8 and starting to understand that I was going to eventually grow up into one of these teenaged things, and I loathed the concept. Teenagers seemed mean and grumpy and to roam in packs of flannel and leather. My mom had recently become a high school librarian and so I was increasingly more aware of the inevitable.

But, at least for a while I would be safe from this “angry music” and I could still be free to prance about my bedroom singing into a hairbrush and wondering abut things like “holding hands” and “kissing” which I assumed could happen at ANY TIME, but which in fact did not occur until the other end of the decade.

 

(Stay tuned for 1992/1993)

 

 

Six days to go. I can do it. MAYBE I can do it. The songs are written. I’m finally at a place where I think I can actually focus on constructing listenable things. I had a breakthrough last night at around 2 and then posted the results in the last entry. So, let’s keep hoping for those victories.

Tonight I’ve been going through old sounds I recorded with my android last year. Most of them are these weird ambient recordings I did on the train hoping that I might eventually use them. The rest are awful song ideas I’ll probably never use.

There was one recording that made me a little bit homesick for Studio 11: I guess sometime last April I got lonely and played “Lua” for my roommate’s cat. I know… that’s kind of… sad. But hey, since I have nothing else to post for you tonight, here it is.

Maybe tomorrow there will be genius, but tonight there is nostalgia.

I’ve been listening to Depeche Mode and The National a lot. And watching Doctor Who. And getting rejected by a lot of people for a lot of different positions. And indulging in the occasional cheap beer at classy drinking establishments.

I Regenerate by djcreepshow on SoundCloud -

Alright folks: Back in the day I used to put on these epically depressing Valentine’s-themed radio shows. Well, actually, some of them were probably less depressing… I remember playing “Melt With You” one year.

Anyway. This year I’m trying something different. Yes, this year there is a “Side A” for all of you who are currently feeling pretty great about love in general… and there is a “Side B” for people who prefer the heartpunch. You’ve been warned either way. Enjoy.

PICK YOUR POISON:

Side A: “Head Over Heels”

Side B: “Loveless”

Part of project “Seriously, Try Not To Be Cynical” is, inevitably, to get through Valentine’s Day with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. The smile may require those things dentists use when they’re filling a cavity, and the song may be “Love Will Tear Us Apart” but STILL. I will try.

My understanding of love is sketchy at best. I took a class called “The Sociology of Close Relationships” in college where we learned about all of the different forms of love – they have Greek names because the English language is quite limited when it comes to such things. I flunked the final, and no the irony is not lost on me.

So, to the best of my understanding, love is this:

-My Dzadek’s blondewood upright piano, the smell of Camels and coffee, and the sound of waves breaking on the shore

-Sitting on my father’s knee and watching the lights on the stereo while he played Neil Young records when I was five.

-Mom writing postcards from grad school, probably every day for eight weeks during the summer of 1988.

-Rachel taking my picture when we were fifteen.

-Summer nights spent sitting on stolen docks with the boy from up the street.

-Mark talking me through late-night panic attacks during the summer of 2005 when I went blind, and Ben describing episodes of Futurama when I couldn’t see them.

-Getting tattoos with Kyle and Jason when Mark died.

-Copley Square, and the perfect carton of yellow heirloom tomatoes that tasted almost exactly like peaches. .

-Shouting the lyrics to “Wake Up” under the moon with 75,000 people in Tennessee, Summer 2011.

-The uneven brick sidewalks of Portland, the scarred knees gotten from them, the realization that I have quite possibly found home, and the comfort in knowing that, despite this, I am still restless.

The two year anniversary of See Here, Chicken passed a month or so ago without any sort of to-do. I am still working every day to heed Conan O’Brien’s message of positivity – and yes, not chiding myself for writing things like this is a Herculean task. There are pros and cons to not living behind a protective shield of caustic barbs (I’ve switched to a slightly less harmful cloak of wryness). Life is better when you get around to living it, so love something. .