A Grunge Life

I had the chance to watch the documentary "Malfunkshun: The Andrew Wood Story" yesterday. To a viewer in their twenties, it probably would be nothing to write home about. It's the usual "boy comes from dysfunctional family and decides to become a rock star and dies from drug over dose just as his band is making it" story. We've all heard a ton of these stories. It's nothing original.

But I am not in my twenties. I am in my (sigh) mid-thirties. I grew up in the 90s. I was a Grunge Kid. I was flannel and ripped jeans. I was red hair and I was green hair. I was Doc Martins and Chuck Taylors. I don't mean to discount those younger viewers, but this film meant a little bit more to me than them. Although the major players in the movie are a few years older than me (most of them were in their 20s in the 1990s while I was a teenager for most of that decade), I still related to them while watching them talk about Andrew Wood and Mother Love Bone and the Grunge Scene.

The best/worst part for me while watching the documentary was that even if I had the volume turned all the way down, I would still feel extremely nostalgic about those days. All it took were the images of the shows in warehouses and tiny clubs to take me back to my youth. Although I have never lived in Seattle or Washington state (where a majority of this film took place), I did have that scene here in Western New York. I was at the center of that scene, locally. The clothes and the footwear and the hair was just set dressing. For some of us. We didn't all look the same. But, I think, we all felt the same. And a lot of those feelings came flooding back to me as I sat and watched this movie.

Even though I came from a functional, happy family, I was miserable. I never felt like I belonged. I never felt happy. But then a friend of mine played a cassette of a band that I had never heard of and a switch went off in my head or my soul or something. From that point on, everything changed. I finally had people who were going through similar things as me (or at least they sang as though they were). I had an outlet for my emotions, I had a support system. I had people. They were My People. One of us would steal our parents' cars and we'd drive to Buffalo. In Buffalo there were so many more of us. Many of them hung out in or near Home of the Hits.

For those who don't know what Home of the Hits was, I shed a tear for you. Home of the Hits was the greatest record store. Ever. It was full of hand-made zines and gig posters. I would look through the stacks of records of bands I had never heard of and talk to the owner about the music. I would meet like-minded people and we'd talk about which bands we should check out. It was like cool-music heaven. Of course it wasn't just us Grunge Kids there. We met a lot of cool Punk People and Rude Boys and Straight Edgers to name just a few. And we didn't hate each other because we were into different music. We actually got along with each other and the older ones would show the younger ones some interesting bands to check out. We were all connected.

And watching the film, it was the same way in Seattle. When Mother Love Bone started, it was made up of guys from a few different local bands (Green River, Skin Yard, Malfunkshun, and Ten Minute Warning). The lead singer (Andrew Wood) lived with the lead singer of another local Seattle band (Chris Cornell of Soundgarden). They were all friends. Their bands all played shows with each other. They all helped each other. And when Mother Love Bone disbanded after the death of Andrew Wood, the members of the band went on to form two or three other bands. Without Mother Love Bone, we would never have Temple of the Dog, and Pearl Jam. Members of this band later went on to play in Brad, Mudhoney, and Love Battery, among others. Name any band that came up in the late-80s/early 90s in the Seattle area, and it's pretty probable that they are connected to Andrew Wood by two or three degrees of separation.

Watching this movie made me sad. I wasn't sad for the passing of Andrew Wood, which was sad in itself because of the potential that Mother Love Bone had, but I was sad because of the death of The Grunge Scene. Sure, a few of the bands that made it are still touring and still making records, but it's not the same. Alice in Chains has a new lead singer, Pearl Jam is playing arenas, and Soundgarden is just now getting back together after being broken up for over ten years. It's not the same. But nothing really is.

I can go on and on with my Peter Pan dreams of how I wish the 90s never ended, but it's kind of good that it did end. A lot of those bands imploded and died for a reason. And it was the same for my friends and me. Too much excess creates rips and tears and scraps and stupid decisions and death. Nothing is meant to last forever. Just look at the Rolling Stones. If I grew up in the 60s, I think I would look at that band as a laughing stock. And as a kid from the 90s, I do not want to see Pearl Jam on tour in 2051. Everything and everyone has a shelf life. Sure, I miss the hell out of all of my friends and all the great times we had and all the stupid stuff we did, but I couldn't be doing that still. Living as much as I did in the 90s has turned me into an old man (or an old-feeling man) in his mid-30s.

But the memories, man. It's all about those damn memories. And the music. And the chronic nostalgia.

Words and music, my only tools
Communication
Let's fall in love with music
The driving force of our livings
The only international language
link

Busy Busy Busy

I haven't written a blog post in about a week.

Have you even noticed? Probably not. No one notices these little small-time blogs. Even my own wife hasn't noticed that it's been a while since I've written. But she's busy. Too busy to pay attention to some ramblings that I've typed up and posted on this site. Even posting the link to a blog post on twitter won't make a difference to most people.

No one cares about what you have to say, chaz.

Yeah, I know. But maybe people are too busy to read every little angst-ridden post that I write. I know I've been pretty busy myself. I started this blog at the beginning of 2011. I told myself I would write every day. I started out strong, but then things get in the way. I started a job. I took a couple classes at the local state school. I started getting lazy. And now that the summer is here, I don't even have time to relax, let alone write a blog post. The weekends get filled up pretty fast during the summer.

I am working full time and working on a theater production of "Hairspray" and possibly helping out with another theater production that is part of the Infringement Festival. I am also trying to sift through all of the books I own to see if I really need to own them all still. I'm thinking that a used bookstore might be able to use them more than me. I am trying really hard to get rid of all the junk in my life. But it's friggin' hard.

I have written over a dozen blog posts in my head over the past month or so that I never had the chance to type up or post. I had two blog post ideas after going to dinner at Merge and listening to a woman perform on stage as we ate. But that was the third week of June. SO MUCH has happened since then that I don't even remember what I was going to write about.

So you're busy. I understand busy. It's okay. I get it. Don't mind me. I'll just be sitting here waiting for you to catch up.

Do Titles Matter?

Whenever I write a blog, I think of the title last because to be honest, I don't really know what I'm going to write about until I'm finished.

I don't want to write a title and then be trapped my it.

"Damn, I titled today's blog 'The Visor In My Car Is Too Short.' Now I have to write about THAT for THIS ENTIRE POST."

I realize I could go back and change the title after I write, but I like to fool myself into thinking anything I write is permanent. Like I'm blogging with a chisel.

But do titles make or break if you're going to spend your time reading a blog? Are you judging a blog by its cover? Are you sometimes upset you spent fifteen minutes reading a blog because you thought "The Hub Doesn't Exist" was about airports?

People say DON'T JUDGE A BOOK BY IT'S COVER all the time, but let's be honest: how else are you supposed to judge it? We can't be expected to read every book ever. That's like talking to every ugly person in the world to see if they have a good personality. NO ONE DOES THAT.

When you started reading this blog, did you expect it to be funny? A commentary on life? A rant from a semi-sane thirty-something? None of the above?

Going back a bit: wouldn't it be great if you DID have to blog with a chisel? How many less blogs would you have? Can someone invent a red pen chisel so I can correct grammatical errors set in stone?

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.7

Technologyless

What would you do if all technology just stopped working?

I know I would need to find a new way to wake up in time for work.

I guess first things first is we should define "technology." In my opinion technology is anything that runs on electricity or a battery or an engine. So what are you left with?

No phones.
No televisions.
No lights.
No cars.
No clocks.
No mp3 players.

It's a good thing there wouldn't be any automobiles because the traffic lights would be out of order. The only way to travel would be on foot or on bicycle. The only way we would have to communicate with each other is face to face. Or passing notes.
How would we tell time?

Would life as we know it fall apart? Would the crime rates go up? Or would we go back to the "olden days"? Would we be a closer-knit society?

Could the shops in the Elmwood Village stay open? The coffee shops would need to find a new (or old!) way to make coffee. The hairdressers & barbers would need to cut (no pun intended!) some of what they offer. No more perms. No more blow drying. The dry cleaners would have to close up all together, yes?

Think of your daily schedule. How often do you use something that runs on a battery, on electricity, or a motor?

I think I would need to invest in a rooster. Or three.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Entry Four

Why do I continue to waste my time, my evenings, my life on these trashy or poorly written or unrealistic television shows?

I keep telling myself they'll get better but they never do.

I refuse to calculate how much of my life has been wasted on this garbage.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5