Happy Friday. Made it through after all.
In the interest of continuity today's post is not only about the nature of musical exposure but also about one of my favorite albums when I was younger. Of the myriad ways I've examined exposure, the one I have yet to hit on seems like an obvious choice yet I sadly have not written about it due to my own circumstances. Once upon a time the primary way people were exposed to new music was through live shows. As I've gotten a little older and mellowed a bit, the number of concerts I attend has declined sharply. When I was young and brimming with energy and free time I had absolutely no qualm about heading out on a weeknight and seeing whoever was playing, accompanying friends to shows on little more than some encouraging words and the promise of a comped drink. Now with a legitimate career and more responsibilities than hours in the day I take joy in finding what little time I can to just relax with my better half. Whereas I used to put on grody concert gear and a pack of smokes on the way out the door, I now find myself thinking I'd rather be able to go running in the morning and if I absolutely have to go I'll sport ear plugs. At some point my internal barometer shifted and I can only attend a handful of concerts a year, on the rare occasion I have a free night and a devotion or curiosity that cannot otherwise be sated.
This was not always the case.
When I was still in high school I was trapped in a small town with a dearth of relevant live music. Basically if I wanted to hear music I liked I had to play it in my own band. That embarrassing little endeavor is a post for another day, though. Point is, if I wanted to see a popular band I had to go to great lengths to do so, often literally. Par example - seeing The Smashing Pumpkins on their last tour? Two hours to Minneapolis on a school night, two hours back past two a.m. Green Day at the Xcel center during their Warning Tour as a gift from my older brother? Pretty much had to make a weekend out of it. So when Weezer was touring seemingly inexplicably far in advance of the Green Album, my group of friends all decided we simply must attend. It was so far in advance of the album that we had to do a bit of research to see that "Oh, there's a new album?", having witnessed the career-gap post-Pinkerton. So we all piled into rusty vehicles and caravanned to Milwaukee to see the band we all loved before the resurgent explosion of the second half of their career. To give you an idea of our technological mind-set at the time, while my better half had a phone at this point in her life, no one in my circle of friends did - we (in all honesty) used walkie-talkies to communicate between cars. Kinda badass but also a little sad. Cell phones were available. I don't know what our problem was.
Anyway, hindsight aside, we made the 5+ hour trek to Milwaukee to see our beloved Weezer, rocking out to Pinkerton and reminding ourselves of just what a great band had been tossed aside, there were two others on the bill - Ozma and The Get Up Kids, both bands that complimented Weezer's brainy, emotional alternative sound. While Ozma were certainly engaging, if a bit shoe-gazing openers (again, a post for another day) when the Get Up Kids took the stage in support of their freshly released 'Something To Write Home About', our collective jaws hit the floor. Sure, we had a sense of what the emo scene was like at the time but here was a band playing so full-on and desperately, brutally honest that we were taken aback at their intensity. Launching their set with the anthemic riffage of 'Holiday', The Get Up Kids were an unrelenting force of emotional furor. Playing (what became) crowd favorites 'Red Letter Day' and 'I'm A Loner, Dottie, A Rebel' the band instantly had me hooked to the point of Weezer simply being icing on the cake. I was so sold on The Get Up Kids that anything coming after was almost overkill - I just absolutely clicked with what they were doing. When the show was finally over and we left, exhausted and covered in other people's sweat, we trekked slowly back to our humble small town. I'm sure I wasn't the only one feeling the discombobulating dichotomy of witnessing something amazing yet knowing nothing like it will pass close for a long time, just the briefest glimpse into what the wider world held out of reach.
In an act of both consolation and desperation to hear those songs again, I rushed out the next day to pick up Something To Write Home About. As luck would have it, it turns out The Get Up Kids were the rare band that sounded just as good on record as they were live. I can't be the only one who has seen a decent live band and bought a CD, only to be disappointed in their production and recording process. This, however, was fantastic. All the same earnest, honest passion was there in every track, even starting with the same opener, 'Holiday'. The wide-open aching of the defining 'Action & Action', the contemplative 'Valentine' and a few surprises as well, like the soft and moving acoustic number 'Out Of Reach'. In what actually facilitated further appreciation and obsession on my part, the clean production and techinique on display here clarified what had nearly deafened me at the live show. While 'I'm A Loner...' was all wild abandon and heartbreak in concert, on the album I could discern the contrapuntal guitar lines and lyrics that only added to the weight of the song. One of my favorite tracks on the album is the straight-forward and propulsive 'Ten Minutes', which combines a fantastic drum intro, an urgent sense of momentum and some slick keys to make one hell of a song.
This album is still a favorite of mine, one that I can still play today and find little nuances or details I hadn't picked up on before. It shaped the rest of my formative years, guiding my musical tastes and stylings, from other albums I listened to, to how I wrote my own songs at the time. There's an intelligence and articulate nature to the song writing that I completely flipped over. In keeping with my habits I listened to this album to the point of being totally sick of it for several years, that's the degree to which I had overkill. However, picking it up just a few years down the road brought with it a new sense of perspective and just a slightly broader world view. To my delight it held up wonderfully, unlike much of the music I can cop to listening to in high school. I'm not proud of it, but I had more than my share of albums by Staind and even (ugh) Korn. Yeah. But in my defense, a hook is a hook, and I'm a sucker for catchy songs. But I digress. Something To Write Home About is an absolute gem, a high water mark for the band and their fanbase that was never quite reached but subsequent releases. As great as some of their later work was, this album is far and away their best, and my appreciation of it only intensifies when I look back on that amazing show. I just wish I could have a similar experience again, sometime.
In the interest of continuity today's post is not only about the nature of musical exposure but also about one of my favorite albums when I was younger. Of the myriad ways I've examined exposure, the one I have yet to hit on seems like an obvious choice yet I sadly have not written about it due to my own circumstances. Once upon a time the primary way people were exposed to new music was through live shows. As I've gotten a little older and mellowed a bit, the number of concerts I attend has declined sharply. When I was young and brimming with energy and free time I had absolutely no qualm about heading out on a weeknight and seeing whoever was playing, accompanying friends to shows on little more than some encouraging words and the promise of a comped drink. Now with a legitimate career and more responsibilities than hours in the day I take joy in finding what little time I can to just relax with my better half. Whereas I used to put on grody concert gear and a pack of smokes on the way out the door, I now find myself thinking I'd rather be able to go running in the morning and if I absolutely have to go I'll sport ear plugs. At some point my internal barometer shifted and I can only attend a handful of concerts a year, on the rare occasion I have a free night and a devotion or curiosity that cannot otherwise be sated.
This was not always the case.
When I was still in high school I was trapped in a small town with a dearth of relevant live music. Basically if I wanted to hear music I liked I had to play it in my own band. That embarrassing little endeavor is a post for another day, though. Point is, if I wanted to see a popular band I had to go to great lengths to do so, often literally. Par example - seeing The Smashing Pumpkins on their last tour? Two hours to Minneapolis on a school night, two hours back past two a.m. Green Day at the Xcel center during their Warning Tour as a gift from my older brother? Pretty much had to make a weekend out of it. So when Weezer was touring seemingly inexplicably far in advance of the Green Album, my group of friends all decided we simply must attend. It was so far in advance of the album that we had to do a bit of research to see that "Oh, there's a new album?", having witnessed the career-gap post-Pinkerton. So we all piled into rusty vehicles and caravanned to Milwaukee to see the band we all loved before the resurgent explosion of the second half of their career. To give you an idea of our technological mind-set at the time, while my better half had a phone at this point in her life, no one in my circle of friends did - we (in all honesty) used walkie-talkies to communicate between cars. Kinda badass but also a little sad. Cell phones were available. I don't know what our problem was.
Anyway, hindsight aside, we made the 5+ hour trek to Milwaukee to see our beloved Weezer, rocking out to Pinkerton and reminding ourselves of just what a great band had been tossed aside, there were two others on the bill - Ozma and The Get Up Kids, both bands that complimented Weezer's brainy, emotional alternative sound. While Ozma were certainly engaging, if a bit shoe-gazing openers (again, a post for another day) when the Get Up Kids took the stage in support of their freshly released 'Something To Write Home About', our collective jaws hit the floor. Sure, we had a sense of what the emo scene was like at the time but here was a band playing so full-on and desperately, brutally honest that we were taken aback at their intensity. Launching their set with the anthemic riffage of 'Holiday', The Get Up Kids were an unrelenting force of emotional furor. Playing (what became) crowd favorites 'Red Letter Day' and 'I'm A Loner, Dottie, A Rebel' the band instantly had me hooked to the point of Weezer simply being icing on the cake. I was so sold on The Get Up Kids that anything coming after was almost overkill - I just absolutely clicked with what they were doing. When the show was finally over and we left, exhausted and covered in other people's sweat, we trekked slowly back to our humble small town. I'm sure I wasn't the only one feeling the discombobulating dichotomy of witnessing something amazing yet knowing nothing like it will pass close for a long time, just the briefest glimpse into what the wider world held out of reach.
