First Things First
A couple weekends ago I was doing my regular check on the tapes at the Goodwill on MLK (where I sit on the floor and make it difficult for dudes in sweatpants to check out the Jane Fonda aerobics tapes behind me) when I discovered a Siamese Dream tape. Other previous selections from that bookcase have included a Salt 'n Pepa remix, a pink and black Pat Benatar tape (which is only worth it for "love is a battlefield"--and then only when you are by yourself), and my favorite OMD tape (if you haven't listened to "tesla girl" or "electricity", you need to very soon or my heart will be broken). The Smashing Pumpkins tape would not have been all that significant if I hadn't been recently going through a loud, distorted melodic guitar phase (see: Fugazi, Hum, Team Dresch, noisy Portland bands).
It also would not have been especially significant if I hadn't thought about Mark when I put on the tape later that day.
Late in high school, I went with Mark to a Smashing Pumpkins show at the Saltair. It wasn't really authentic Smashing Pumpkins (the Hole bassist + Billy Corgan and disgruntled band members version), but it was enough to fill some weird latent groove in my brain that is now letting its contents seep into how I play with my distortion pedal.
Back when I was listened to bad pop punk and ska bands (see: NOFX, Blink 182, Dance Hall Crashers), Mark was listening to dark, heavy guitars and beautiful melodies and probably secretly checking out the hot picture of D'arcy in the liner notes. And he was developing a repertoire of Joss Whedon jokes (which is a discussion for a later date) that none of us understood because we were too busy buying skate shoes and pretending to mosh (and definitely not checking out gothy girls in liner notes).
And now, 6 years later, I try (and fail) to get my band to cover 1979. And I wish I had more black t-shirts.
Mark got it way before I did.
(and once again, I'm late figuring things out.. but better late than never).
To make up for it, you all should accept this offering:
talking cats
It also would not have been especially significant if I hadn't thought about Mark when I put on the tape later that day.
Late in high school, I went with Mark to a Smashing Pumpkins show at the Saltair. It wasn't really authentic Smashing Pumpkins (the Hole bassist + Billy Corgan and disgruntled band members version), but it was enough to fill some weird latent groove in my brain that is now letting its contents seep into how I play with my distortion pedal.
Back when I was listened to bad pop punk and ska bands (see: NOFX, Blink 182, Dance Hall Crashers), Mark was listening to dark, heavy guitars and beautiful melodies and probably secretly checking out the hot picture of D'arcy in the liner notes. And he was developing a repertoire of Joss Whedon jokes (which is a discussion for a later date) that none of us understood because we were too busy buying skate shoes and pretending to mosh (and definitely not checking out gothy girls in liner notes).
And now, 6 years later, I try (and fail) to get my band to cover 1979. And I wish I had more black t-shirts.
Mark got it way before I did.
(and once again, I'm late figuring things out.. but better late than never).
To make up for it, you all should accept this offering:
talking cats
2 Comments:
Nell! ;_;
This is like the greatest birthday present ever!
That talking cats link is one of the greatest and scariest things ever. I think it's just one more step before the cats finally take over the world.
Also, nice to have you here Nell. And thanks :).
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