Nostalgia Face: 90s Music

It's 1994 or whatever and I'm feeling something.  I sit at my desk, door closed, sun brightly coming through the closed curtains I just made.  Against a backdrop of school work, drawings, passed notes and my friends clothes - man, if only I was older, I could be on my own doing exactly this.  I look down at several plastic jewel cases, each one a key to exploring my life.  Which do I choose: number, blurred, or completely fucking important?

I pick up and open completely fucking important, careful it remains undamaged; the thought of it not existing means I lose the comradery I just found.  It was too precious and I couldn't let that happen.  I gently pluck the round, pliable disc out its claw-toothed holder with a faint click.  Punch open the cheap CD changer not worthy of playing any of this, but down goes the disc, P for freedom.

Without hesitation I was drawn.  I parted the frayed opening of torn jeans, revealing a secret world and I walked in, wearing nothing more than a thrift store tshirt and a pair of dirty chucks.

The song that jarred the door to feeling understood begins, played as loud as my parents will allow on a Saturday afternoon.  they still probably hated it.  I jumped & twisted on the grey carpet, shaking my head up and down, just like the music videos showed me.  My hands starting to perform some sort of rhythmic action...  I knew how ridiculous I looked having no experience being graceful at a head bang, and being solo without a family to join me, but I finally connected to something way beyond my comprehension.  I didn't have to understand why to know I fucking loved it.   This was for me.  always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last night we watched the Kurt Cobain documentary, Montage of Heck.  Travus has spoken countless times about how the 90s is where his heart will always live.  I couldn't disagree because mine does too.  In both are minds, the 90s were simply the last decade.  I graduated not that long ago, babydolls & docs are still kinda popular, and it's ok for me to sit on the floor in my room listening to this music over and over again.  This film brought all of it rushing back, as if to remind me I must fully appreciate what we experienced.  Reliving the past through the visualization of house parties, backyard shows, music, drugs, behaviors and friends.  That was our lives.  My life over 4 years.  Every running frame on that flat TV was like a convex mirror surrounding my brain, reflecting where & how I grew up, just different faces staring back.  A solitary image glimpses in my head of each girlfriend and I, with our arms around each other, smiling at who we are, each a mess of awesome.  I miss that.  terribly.

oh god... I found my nostalgia face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Travis left for his comedy show, I went to the CD rack and ran my fingers over the boat loads of lyrical memories from both his and my intersecting lives.  I thought back on how many years it took for him to feel comfortable with us combining our music - no joke.  I didn't have many, but the few I had lived on separate shelves; we didn't co-mingle the past.  I didn't care; made it easier to find mine actually... But at some point post-wedded bliss, it finally felt right.  still makes me laugh though.  But for any duplicate albums, I would tuck a sticky note inside the liner notes with the letter B... just in case.  I recently went through those and peeled them off, one by one, because silly.  Except Nevermind.  I couldn't.  It was the embodiment of a turning point in my life that isn't soon repeated.  No sir-ee-bob, I wouldn't lose the actual physicality that took me there.

I finally landed on our copies of Nevermind.  his and hers.  gross, I just got a toothache.  I plucked both from their shelf plot and held one in each hand.  Which was whose?  I set them on the table and went liner note fishing.  bam.  Here she was, suddenly the same anticipating teenage girl ready to listen, experiencing emotions I still yet can't describe accurately.  How do you not respect that?

I sit here at my laptop, 20 some years later, the backdrop updated but familiar.  The CD now spins inside this portable, metal computing machine, which if it eats my disc I'll rip it's guts out.  Music still plays, clothes still unfolded, books books books, a puppy, and now our home.  I'm combing the memory banks for all that was once right in my life.  Simple, but complicated in the lamest sense.  My age will never matter.  I still feel like I'm playing grownup...

Sure, Nirvana made alternative ok.  Manufactured or not, it took a culture and shoved it into the oculars of every household.  And for me, it could have been any band, really.  It just happened to be them.  They unknowingly allowed millions of psyche's to start another revolution of questioning the norm.  And I wanted in.  With fury, I started listening to everything my parents hated or didn't consider country: grunge, alternative, psychedelia, punk, classical, nature sounds, foreign, my friends screamo bands, the bargain LPs at Goodwill.  I embraced The Ramones and NOFX, went to horribly overcrowded Guttermouth shows and generator parties.  Tenaciously repeated the mixed tapes these dudes gave me till they were worn out, laughed when Blink added 182.  Debated why The Smashing Pumpkins really only had one album and remained confused by why people liked Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Got stoned to Oasis and tripped on Mazzy and wondered what IS Bob gonna do now that he can't drink?  Sang awful renditions of Hole songs and crushed on Trent Reznor.  Screw you normalcy, I won't concede! shakes fist.

For us absorbent teenagers in the coveted youth demographic though, that part of the 90s was way more than marketing.  I needed the expressionism, not because it was popular, but because it moved me.  It broke down what my parents dictated; the desire to feel more and think more and explore more and to know I wasn't alone.  I was part of something huge and weird and special - I was hooked on a drip line of sounds and influence.

My life with Travis reopened that experience and I'm fucking grateful.  I guess I was too busy or whatever, but I somehow missed Screaming Trees and Mudhoney, Radiohead and Faith No More.  Kyuss, PJ Harvey, L7.  Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Pixies and Sonic Youth.  And like all the other ones your shouting at me right this very second.  Luckily we have countless musicalories left on MyDiscusPal to continue feasting.  And because the 90s will only ever be a few years behind us, it calms me to know when we're grey and feeble, we'll sit together on the floor and air drum our way to the grave.

<3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn't know then how incredible that time was, but I kinda owe it everything.

I respect you oh great decade, for I shall never replace you.

Tell You Thursday: The Monkees Gave Me Head

November 20, 1968.
46 years ago.

The United States and their breadth of screaming teeny-boppers were not prepared for what would be unleashed upon them.

Head.  The psychotropic movie starring The Monkees, who at the time were tripping with the likes of The Beatles and Frank Zappa.  Head.  The movie difficult to describe by normal standards.
Head.  The movie where the bodies of The Monkees die, sing, trip, solve, and die once again.

It certainly fits the space of free love / experimental / turned-on 1960s.  However, at that time the majority of The Monkees audience was anything but open.

I discovered it watching TV late one night, because a movie called Head is gonna catch your eye.  I had seconds when they showed Psyche-Out.  dude.  Both have hippie Jack Nicholson.  Both should be seen.

But this entry isn't about the movies, it's about the most basic of personality questions, "Who is my favorite band."  Asked by friends and Travis, and for the last 18 years, the answer has been The Monkees.  And here are the responses I get.

1. They didn't even play their own instruments.
      - Ah mon frare, they weren't allowed on the first album, but did on everything else.
2. Didn't that one guys' mom invent White-out?
     - yep.
3. Why do you like The Monkees (sarcastic tone implied?)
     - don't know, just do.
4. no response, just face confusion.
    - lame on you.

Last Tell You Thursday I wrote a story involving music and my tattoo artist.  I realized then that psychedelic music has always lived in me, I just didn't know it for the first 14 years of my life.  And traditionally, The Monkees aren't considered part of that scene, say like Jefferson Airplane or The 13th Floor Elevators.  But they were deeply ingrained and relevant, despite the clean image the record companies wanted.  They were eventually given the freedom to make the music they wanted, play & arrange how they saw best, and collaborate with friends like Carol King and Neil Diamond.  They rule something fierce.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In high school, I received an offer from Columbia House: 12 CDs for the price of one.  I scanned a paper mailer for the ones I wanted.  I have no idea what else I got, but their Greatest Hits album struck me.  I remember siting at my desk, sunlight pouring through the window, when I thought "I used to watch their TV show and kinda like that one song, I'll give it a shot."

That was it - I was hooked from the moment the mailer ripped open.  Nothing had musically impacted me like that before and I kinda didn't know what to do.  I replayed it over and over again, figuring out how to save my allowance to buy another album.  I searched thrift store album shelves, hoping for a lucky score.  And to this day, I honestly don't know why it fucking spoke everything to me.   It just did.  I quickly trashed their radio hits for the off-album tunes that helped shape my mind.  The Monkees led my path down a phycadelia rabbit hole, up to the 70s, into the gutter of punk, down the street to rap, and a sky full of a bajillion other songs I never realized I was missing.  It was like getting a continual fix, one CD or LP at a time.

I urge you if you've never given them a second thought past Daydream Believer, please check out some of my top songs, in both experimental and just awesomely supreme: Porpoise Song, As We Go Along, Goin' Down, and The Mike Nesmith songs.

This is my thing and some of the reasons why I answer why I do.  There's others, but they're mine.  I just hope everyone gets a moment like that at least once in their life.

It's a beautiful trip, where ever you go.

Tell You Thursday: Grad Nightmare

You know those songs that pop in your head for an indeterminate length of time, so much so that you to tell everyone around you.  But in turn, you're transferring it onto the next person so you can rid yourself of the mind curse.  You also know those songs that no matter when you hear it, will always make you stop to stir specific memories.

This is a tale that covers both.

It was the 90s, as many of my tales are.  Oh crap - is the 90s my November 5, 1955, where everything revolves around that period of life?  nah.  But it was the 90s, where days of high school were filled with friends and the weekend brought parties.  Lots of parties with booze, drugs and debauchery.  We lived in the desert, the Antelope Valley desert.  And I understand your formidable years may not have any similarities, but this was all very normal for us.  Even though these experiences are not for everyone, these were great moments of getting to know my friends, exploring who I was, and discovering mind altering solutions.

Because I steered clear of anything relating to "the norm" or "trendy/popular," I hardly ever participated in school events.  I did, however, go to the battle of the bands contest the one year they had it, because my best friend was performing her screaming mic technique.  It was my favoritist.  But I didn't go to football games, I never sold World's Finest Chocolate bars in order to get cheaper prom tickets, and I never had school spirit.  I just didn't see the point.  The ONLY exception I allowed myself was Grad Night.  Grad night is for Los Angeles high school seniors to visit Disneyland from 10pm to 2am, after it's been closed to the public.  I made this exception because Disneyland.

The rumblings of Grad Night were starting to broil around school, so I went looking into the rules of attendance.  I had to know what we could get away with!  The first thing I discovered was the prior years' selection of dates was almost 30.  Our years' selection dropped to 8.  That meant 210 schools, each with several hundred seniors (at least) vying for one of those slots.  That's a lot of fucking kids.  The second thing I discovered was their strict dress code.  In my day, gents had to wear collard shirts, while birds could only wear skirts or dresses.  What the?!  I hadn't worn skirts since I was a kid and the only dresses I owned were babydoll.  I didn't think Disneyland was hip on grunge, so those were out because if they didn't like what you wore, you couldn't get in.  Lastly, the tickets were expensive.  $75 or $100.  I had to really work extra hours and beg my parents for cash so I could go.  Me and two other friends made the commitment, but it wasn't easy.

After sorting the tickets, the outfit was next.  I wasn't going to buy anything because that would mean more money and more commonplace.  I decided to make a skirt with an elastic waist from a pattern in my head.  Yup - I would wing it because screw them and their rules.  I'll do what I want!  But, in actuality it was the most awkward and ill fitting thing I've ever made to date.  It was some sort of flower print that required strange sandals... If I would have seen me walking about, I would have totally judged hard.

And finally, for the evening's activity.  Smoking pot was too obvious and would definitely get us caught.  Acid was an ok option, but with the amount of people going could easily make a bad trip.  The three of us finally agreed to take ecstasy.  It's supposed to make you love everything & everyone.  Just a mellow high that made feeling better, better.  I was hesitant at first, not because of what it was, but because it had never worked for me.  The few prior times I tried, my friends were having the best time petting each other while I was bummed, alone, in the corner.  But ok, I'll try again...

The night was here!  It usually took between 30 and 45 minutes to kick in, so our plan was to drop close to the park.  That way the downtime could be spent going through the line and once we passed the magic gates, our night would emerge.  We finally saw the signs to our future getting closer, so down the hatch they went.  It was approximately 9pm when we rolled in but holy hell, ALL the buses were suddenly jam packed near the Disneyland entrance.  This was a time where you could still drive up near the front, rather than the current giant structure near by.  We were sitting in the back and I remember all the kids going to the right side of the bus, gazing out the dirty windows onto the heard we had just found ourselves stuck in.  There kids outside were EVERYWHERE, not moving.  Staring.  The bus driver refused to let us out until things calmed down... but they never did.  And here us fools were stuck, starting to feel the E.  I started to internally freak out like I was going to miss all the fun sitting on a vinyl seat instead of a plastic one (you know, cuz the rides are plastic.)  But eventually they gave up trying to keep us seated and released the desert flock.  It took two fucking hours to go 30 feet.  It was awful, awful, awful.  Granted, we didn't plan well enough to anticipate the crowd, but I won't take all the blame.  Some is on the park employees.  It still boggles my mind how ill-organized and chaotic they made the process, for an event which had been going for years.  But damn it, we finally were in.

Let's goooooo!!!!!!!!   I want to be on ecstasy in Disneyland, where I can touch and feel and experience!!!  screech. halt. stop.  We were going nowhere fast.  I should have guessed based on how many kids were out front, there could only be a million times more inside.  But we all grabbed hands (ooh, that felt good) and made our way slowly through.  With every step there was someone next to you, behind you or in front of you.  Constantly.  I no longer was having the mellow buzz I desiered, but a heightened sense of everything.  The janky skirt, the kids in line, the food, the far off live music and the music playing over the loud speakers.

We were silent, gripping each other, trying to go somewhere.  The E getting stronger as we aimlessly walked around.  Our subconscious minds were drawn to the live music by way of the Tomorrowland stage.  I think it was because we could just sit and stare at the lights and be with it and with each other.  But the band, holy shit, was The Aquabats!  They were a kinda popular catchy, ska-type band that made funny songs.  What the hell were they doing here!?  It was a nice surprise since it never popped up on my reconnaissance.  We sat & stared & watched, trying to get back some of the high.  It was all but too short lived.  As if simultaneously with the last drum beat, the loud speakers barreled into my brain.  I pushed it out for some moments because I wanted to people watch the band chat up high school chicks.  I was soon pulled out of my fixated trance by the music genius' who turned up the volume to 11.  ugh.

Let me tell you.  The music director chose a TOTAL OF THREE SONGS to play, on rotation, the entire night.  No skips to promote some food, no breaks for friends to talk, nope.  And for someone taking something that skews yer brain, not good because you can never get away from it.  It pokes, over and over at you like a woodpecker.  My Grad Nightmare will never go away.  They chose one song that was popular the year before, one that was popular at that moment, and one that was kitschy for our graduation year: 1999.  (1) Pretty Fly (For a White Guy) by The Offspring; (2) No Scrubs by TLC; (3) 1999 by Prince.

To this day, each one of these songs brings me back to that night.  It brings me back to the last time I tried ecstasy; it brings me back to a most bizarre haze of a night; and it brings back the enclosed feeling and the lack of escape.

Maybe if I roll now, it would have the reversing effect but I don't want to try in the event that I develop song tattoos...