okay, i promise after the shitty story is finished i will put 1994 back in the past, where it belongs. but for two more nights i will bask in the glow of my youth. and by glow of my youth i mean the fiery humilation coloring my cheeks — embarrassment so hot and strong, you could roast marshmallows off my face.
this is an exercise in humility and, well, cheerleading. no matter how bad my story ends up, i know that it will not be as bad as these record reviews i wrote for the student newspaper in 1993 and 1994.
Various Artists, Philadelphia Soundtrack
“The disc opens with the much ballyhooed ‘Streets of Philadelphia’ written and performed by Bruce Springsteen. Actually this is a decent song considering The Boss hasn’t had a good song since ‘Dancing in the Dark.'”
US 3, Hand on the Torch
“‘Cantaloop (Flip Fasntasia)’ has a groovy and infectious garble of words that goes a little like ‘dip trip flip fantasia.’
This sounds better and better with each repetition until you eventually catch yourself singing it.”
Prince, The Hits 2
“You knew you were too old to play with Barbies an Matchbox cars when you finally realized ‘Little Red Corvette’ wasn’t about a car.”
Pearl Jam, Vs
“Many are expecting fireworks, but Vs. dazzles in a much more subtle manner. But, the album grows on a listener. After listening to it about 42 times in a nine-hour time span, I think I love it.”
Counting Crows, August and Everything After
“Counting Crows’ debut release, August and Everything After can’t be judged purely on the basis of the single ‘Mr. Jones.’ Even though to do so wouldn’t be far off the mark”
[i have absolutely no idea what the fuck this means]
The Wonder Stuff, Construction for the Model Idiot
“The Wonderful Stuff — that’s what this band should’ve been called.”
Matthew Sweet, Altered Beast
“What’s even better than the soothing quality of Sweet’s voice is the darkness of his lyrics. Sweet croons with these seemingly mellow, everything’s groovy vocals and then contrasts them with these pessimistic ideas and images.
On ‘Someone to Pull the Trigger’ Sweet sings, ‘Cause there’s a whole [sic, yes i used the wrong whole/hole and nobody caught it, fucking copy editors] in my hear that’s getting bigger/and everything I’ll ever be I’ve been.'”
Concrete Blonde, Mexican Moon
“Much of the album cowers under an eerie overtone and often is conflicting with the spicy, upbeat music associated with the Latin American culture.”
[yes, as a 21-year-old in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, i was an expert on the Latin American culture]
Various Artists, Rare on Air Vol. 1
“Following in the tracks of albums like No Alternative, Sweet Relief, and Kiss my Ass, Rare on Air Vol. 1 doesn’t need hidden tracks by Nirvana (even though ‘Verse Chorus Verse is a rad song) to hawk its virtues. Rare has an understated grace that seems to be lost in he crunchier side of the alternative rock scene.”
Bob Mould, The Poison Years
“Greatest Hits albums are usually just a last gasp effort for some used-up has-been to catch the final glimmer of glory from a well-faded career.
Mould is lucky because his career is going strong with no signs of wear; he already has the obligatory greatest hits album out of his way, and it’s a decent album.”
Matthew Sweet, 100% Fun
“In the sports world it seems athletes always have to give 110 percent to reach their goals, but for Matthew Sweet 100 percent is more than enough to get the job done.
Sweet has achieved the equivalent of Michael Jordan’s three-peat with the release of 100% Fun. Following on the heels of 1992’s Girlfriend and 1993’s Altered Beast, Sweet’s latest release puts the final jewel in his triple crown.”
Material Issue, Freak City Soundtrack
“Freak City Soundtrack is the feel-good record of the year. The poppy beats and rhythms of Material Issue can put anybody in a good mood.”
Sugar, File Under: Easy Listening
“When Bob Mould requests, ‘Tell me I’m your favorite thing,’ he doesn’t have to ask twice.
With Sugar’s third release, File Under: Easy Listening the power-pop trio should be back on everyone’s fave list.”
“Jesus Christ! I was in fucking jail all fucking night long and all you can talk about is how some celebrity is dead. Do you even know him? NO! You know me, but you don’t give a shit about what I’ve had to go through.” She was nearly hyperventilating in anxiety. Her brain kept telling her to shut up, but the emotional dam had burst and would not be denied. “It smelled like piss, Becca. I don’t like piss. I fucking hate the smell of piss, Becca. I had to stay awake all night.” Her voice started to break up. Sleep, at the moment, seemed like a commodity more precious than gold. “And yet now I’m somehow supposed to forget that I was ABANDONED,” her body shook as the word left her lips, “and join your pity party about some fucking famous stranger who died? Big Fucking Deal! You know what? You take your shitty dead celebrity mourning ass home and leave me COMPLETELY alone. You always do this to me, Becca: You get wrapped up in your own universe that ends at the ends of your god-damned fingertips! Am I even real to you? Do I really exist to you or am I some random variable you sometimes decide to include in your own little world? Well fuck you! I am real! I am real!” The sound of her heart beating drowned out the sound of anything else. Hearing nothing but the fast but steady ga-thump of her heart, which she was sure was about to explode, she never had the chance to hear the door slam, the door’s 60 year old frame cracking a little bit more or her roommate begging her not to go. It was all for the better: The bitch was back and ready to drive a number two pencil through the eye of anyone that dared fuck with her. Kurt fucking Cobain indeed.