Alright, it's high time that I start writing about the other side of the music coin. Let's take a trip to the Backstreets, shall we?
Before the huge breakout of macho backlash to all of the boy bands became a movement in of itself, before I hated every band Kid Rock and Eminem told me to hate, the Backstreet Boys were...just a group. They were just more of the same junk that a van full of kids would listen to on the way to their after school program. Pretty much everybody recognized them for what they truly were: harmless, run-of-the-mill pop. A bunch of 4th graders didn't hate it, but we'd probably be happier if that Eagle Eye Cherry song was playing.
Before The Backstreet Boys were my favorite bands' sworn enemies, I saw this video. At that age, there was no way that I'd ever admit to watching and enjoying it. I was no fan, but I deemed the video watchable. As long as nobody else was watching with me.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
"Hi, Kids!"
Eminem: My Name is. This was another video I first saw at Nathaniel's house on TRL. Carson took forever to introduce the video. He started talking about this white guy from Detroit almost winning the freestyle olympics, getting discovered by Dr. Dre and so on. Then, he introduces Eminem by saying "His name is like the candy, but it's spelled all screwed up." The guy had a knack for completely ruining the viewer's interest (or, at the very least my, personal interest) with some weak off-the-cuff ramble in which he'll try to be funny. Maybe it was intentional. With his lengthy intro and completely boring jokes, he set the bar of expectations very low. And thanks to Carson's monotone rambling, Nathaniel and I plus several million other white kids were underprepared and then totally blindsighted by what we saw next.
Labels:
1999,
Bleached Hair,
Eminem,
Video Makes No Goddamn Sense
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
"Chalk White and Oh-So Frail."
I really lucked out in elementary school. I was a super scrawny, goofy redhead with a temper and a bad mouth. In theory I should have gotten way more kicks to the ass than I recieved. Marin Elementary was pretty friendly though. I was a class clown and only the real assholes hated me for being the absolute worst kickball player they ever played with. At school I spent a good long time getting to know everyone, so I wasn't judged solely on my pale, brittle exterior.
When I started going to the Berkeley JCC after school in the 3rd grade, things changed drastically. I was the shy new kid. No getting-to-know-me period, that's just what I was. I'd be walking down the hall and the bullies would spot me. Boom, headlock. I remember once getting locked in a full nelson right in front of my dad when he came to pick me up. My dad asked me about it on the way home, and I told him not to do anything about it because I felt like it would just make the situation worse. Classic bullying.
They picked on me for weeks. I was pretty much exiled from the outdoor area after a game of soccer where I proved to be a devastatingly ineffective goalie. I hated the way they pushed me around and I wasn't going to take it anymore! So did I wise up and tell an adult? Better! I ran and hid.
One of my favorite ways to avoid bullies at the JCC was to chill with the lazy counselors who kicked it in the little indoor lounge area while the big guys played sports. Inside was where the snack was kept, and there was a radio that I was free to tune to any station I wanted. So I would eat chips and salsa (sometimes for snack they just set out a huge pot of cold white rice. What?) and do arts and crafts while rocking out to The Z: Z-95.7.
When I started going to the Berkeley JCC after school in the 3rd grade, things changed drastically. I was the shy new kid. No getting-to-know-me period, that's just what I was. I'd be walking down the hall and the bullies would spot me. Boom, headlock. I remember once getting locked in a full nelson right in front of my dad when he came to pick me up. My dad asked me about it on the way home, and I told him not to do anything about it because I felt like it would just make the situation worse. Classic bullying.
They picked on me for weeks. I was pretty much exiled from the outdoor area after a game of soccer where I proved to be a devastatingly ineffective goalie. I hated the way they pushed me around and I wasn't going to take it anymore! So did I wise up and tell an adult? Better! I ran and hid.
One of my favorite ways to avoid bullies at the JCC was to chill with the lazy counselors who kicked it in the little indoor lounge area while the big guys played sports. Inside was where the snack was kept, and there was a radio that I was free to tune to any station I wanted. So I would eat chips and salsa (sometimes for snack they just set out a huge pot of cold white rice. What?) and do arts and crafts while rocking out to The Z: Z-95.7.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
"Get the Fuck Up."
Well, here we are. I feel that it's better that I don't post videos and memories in this blog in chronological order. I need a big, explosive first entry. And there wasn't a big, dumb explosion quite like the one this video set off.
It started in 1997 and went on until about 2001.
It's 2009. This decade has been a rough start to what has been promised to be a fun and prosperous willenium for all. I'm sitting in my kitchen with my roomates and my neighbor Eric. We're talking about the music we loved when growing up.
"I started paying attention to music at around third grade, listening to Z 95.7 on the van rides to the JCC after school program. Goo Goo Dolls, Eagle Eye Cherry, Natalie Imbruglia, stuff like that. A year later me and this kid Nathaniel would go over to each other's houses every day after school and watch TRL religiously. Limp Bizkit, KoRn, Eminem, Kid Rock. Oh, god! All the worst stuff, that's what I got into."
Eric's jaw dropped. "Dude, I'm so sorry."
He didn't know how easy he had it. By the time 1997 rolled around, Eric was smart enough to avoid the music that made me drag my mom to Tower Records.
In the late 90's, I was forming strong opinions about the day's current pop music for the first time. The Nu-Metal meathead noisemakers were cool, the Boy Bands were Gay. Backstreet Boys were Gay. Britney was Gay. Smash Mouth was alright.
I thought that watching these videos and listening to these bands was going to give me substance. Even the videos I hated, I watched because I had to stay informed. I set out to be an interesting person with a unique taste in music. My only problem was that the one source of music I turned to was MTV in its Rap Rock vs. Teen Pop era. There was no less interesting, less unique outlet for music available.
Terrible, terrible music and the repressed memories I recall when I hear this music. That's what this blog is about. I'll be talking about obnoxious, stupid, and completely worthless music. But it was my music. And sometimes, for reasons I can't explain, I still love it.
"I started paying attention to music at around third grade, listening to Z 95.7 on the van rides to the JCC after school program. Goo Goo Dolls, Eagle Eye Cherry, Natalie Imbruglia, stuff like that. A year later me and this kid Nathaniel would go over to each other's houses every day after school and watch TRL religiously. Limp Bizkit, KoRn, Eminem, Kid Rock. Oh, god! All the worst stuff, that's what I got into."
Eric's jaw dropped. "Dude, I'm so sorry."
He didn't know how easy he had it. By the time 1997 rolled around, Eric was smart enough to avoid the music that made me drag my mom to Tower Records.
In the late 90's, I was forming strong opinions about the day's current pop music for the first time. The Nu-Metal meathead noisemakers were cool, the Boy Bands were Gay. Backstreet Boys were Gay. Britney was Gay. Smash Mouth was alright.
I thought that watching these videos and listening to these bands was going to give me substance. Even the videos I hated, I watched because I had to stay informed. I set out to be an interesting person with a unique taste in music. My only problem was that the one source of music I turned to was MTV in its Rap Rock vs. Teen Pop era. There was no less interesting, less unique outlet for music available.
Terrible, terrible music and the repressed memories I recall when I hear this music. That's what this blog is about. I'll be talking about obnoxious, stupid, and completely worthless music. But it was my music. And sometimes, for reasons I can't explain, I still love it.
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