Did I ever tell you about how two minor-key guitar chords cut across the sludge of the New Kids, Vanilla Ice and Tiffany and struck deep into my heart?
Did I ever tell you about seeing the same band end their performance on Saturday Night Live by smashing their instruments, and thinking, "Well, that’s hardly original…but it sure beats a stage full of guys going, “Yo yo yo!”
Did I ever tell you about not washing my hair and making little braids that I fastened with twist ties?
Did I ever tell you about late nights spent talking and smoking and wondering if that photo on a Jane’s Addiction CD was for real? (Not the manikins on fire; another one, inside. I don’t feel like describing it, if I even could.)
Did I ever tell you about two guys, one named Paul Westerberg, the other Michael Stipe, who would talk to anyone with a tape recorder or notepad? And I would read it, every word, every time.
Did I ever tell you about the runaway train that never came back? About the Bee Girl? About Jeremy, who spoke in class today? About stage diving? About Lollapalloza, and the irony of singing along with “Rape Me” while wearing a tank top and painted-on shorts? About seeing the Black Crowes at…well, I forget where it was, but he really was dancing barefoot? About getting tickets to see Soul Asylum at Metropole, and having it cancelled by the blizzard of '92? About “Hate” comics, and saying, “Of COURSE it’s set in Seattle!” About singing backup on your friend’s band’s album, and helping them sell the cassettes, and videotaping their concert, and all that other I’m-with-the-band stuff? About seeing Rusted Root when they were still a local band, and not wanting to admit that they were better than your friend’s band?
Did I ever tell you about the time Rilchiam got loaded and went through her cassette box?
So while everyone else was burning their crappy tapes and trying to forget they ever existed, and began changing their appearances and behaviors, I just kept doing my thing. Not to say, of course, that I was the first or the only, I certainly wasn’t. In most ways I admit to just being along for the ride like most other people. I lived nowhere near Seattle, and had no chance of exposure to any of those bands. I did hear Pearl Jam’s “Alive” on some compilation tape I had, and fell in love with it. This was before the media explosion, and AFAIK, well before I heard Nirvana on the radio (I remember precisely that moment, strangely enough). So after hearing “Alive” on that tape, I made an effort to seek out more of the same. I had an aunt who happened to be living in Seattle around that time, and she sent me all kinds of stuff: weird hats, posters, newspapers (?“The Rocket”?, I think), a tape or two I think (shhh, don’t tell RIAA). Then the wave came and while exciting, deep in my heart I knew I had become part of a fad. Most young people do, I suppose, at one time or another. I still firmly believe that this particular one, reflecting back on it, was at least a little different than most. There was a LOT of good music there that will stand the test of time (and already has). Maybe because it was something real that was “discovered” and exploited, instead of being entirely fabricated by executives like many fads and trends.
