Reading about all these super-young bloggers who have fabulous lives and mothers who buy them Chloe purses had me wondering whether any teenager actually leads an awkward, angry existence the way I, and so many of my friends, did. Shame… all the pop cultural nostalgia they’ll have seven years down the road will be… Girl Talk? Lezlo? Frig. Don’t any of them sit in their bedroom with their guitar and brood and write angry poetry in their battered journal? I’d prefer pimples and spiked chokers and English class being the highlight of my day to having a wall full of Margiela shoes if that was the trade-off. In five videos, some memories:
Smashing Pumpkins at Summersault in Barrie, Aug. 11, 2000. My first concert. (Isn’t it sad I can still remember the exact date? Fuck I loved this band so much. Did you know on the original Smashing Pumpkins official message board I was basically an Internet celebrity? With like, a 10,000 post count? I’m pretty sure to this day you can mention my username on the new SP board and people will still recognize it.)
Nine Inch Nails’ And All That Could Have Been DVD. So many hours spent searching for Easter eggs… so many, many hours.
The Smiths’ Asleep. I only knew this song because for about a year the only book I read and re-read, in single sittings and for weeks at a time, was The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. This song features prominently in that grunge-era blatant rip-off of Catcher in the Rye.
This band’s album was playing in my car the night I had my heart broken for the first time. Rockets Red Glare was also the band playing when I got into my first crash in that car. Cursed.
From the time I was 13 til just before high school graduation, I took private art lessons every weekend. My teacher, Stephen Yau, was obsessed with the Beatles and played these CD collections of Beatles MIDI renditions on repeat. Obviously (and thankfully) there are no YouTube videos of muzak Beatles, but to this day any Beatles song except Day Tripper drives me mad — and few are less rage-inducing than this little ditty.