[LEMONS] 4.19.2002
Seven Songs and a Confession II
Remember, they aren't the greatest ever, just the greatest right now.- Big Black: Racer X
- Manu Chao: Mr Bobby
- The Smiths: Ask
- Ali Farka Toure: Bonde
- Marshmallow Coast: Classifieds
- Nappy Roots: Aww Naw
- Black Flag: This is Good
When I was a kid, I was a total poseur. I was completely afraid of projecting the wrong image. I was a little guy--hit puberty late and all that--and I was hyper aware of seeming tough. Napoleon complex, thy name is Mat. The music I listened to reflected this. I liked fast hard stuff--rap, metal, punk and post-punk--not only because I was an Angry Young Man, but also because I wanted to seem like one. I smoked. I drank. I did drugs. I vandalized things. I shoplifted. I was kicked out of school. I fought (and lost). I drove too fast. I staged dived and moshed and did all those Angry Young Things that Angry Young Men did in the 80s. (And I was still too checken shit to really get into it). It was all image. It was posing. It was absolutely idiotic.
But secretly. Secretly. I was a sensitive little guy. I wrote poetry and short stories and songs and my heart bled and bled and bled. I tried to hide that. It was the 80s. It was the South. Give me a little slack. My friend Dave and I used to dick around permanently. We were always in the woods in the afternoon, smoking cigarettes and poking around in the caves in the North Georgia hills behind school. We used to jump out of trees screaming "20 Eyes in My Head" and listen to Sex Pistols bootlegs. Dave listened to the DKs and the Pistols and The PiL. He lived in the Misfit's Skull T-shirt, and had that floppy skater bangs bowl cut like Glenn Danzig that everyone had in the 80s. But he was also into all that Suixse, Cure, Depeche Mode, New Order and, mostly, The Smiths. Stuff that I wanted nothing to do with. It wasn't my "image," whatever that was. Sure, I listened to The Cure, they were grandfathered in. But The Smiths? Hell no. They were entirely too "faggy." They had bare-chested guys on their album covers for crying out loud! And Dave, being more secure in his manhood than I was (being 6-foot-whatever may have helped that), put up with my crap. He was patient and tolerant, while I was just a chowderhead. And he kept on saying, "you should give The Smiths a chance." And I never would. I mean, sure, I'd heard The Smiths, how could you not in the 80s (Jeff?)? But I never gave them a chance. And then, Dave made a tape for me, one side was the Pistols and the other was The Smiths. And I freaking loved it. Loved. I used to listen to it all the time when I was alone, in my room or driving around. And I never would admit it. Never. Because I was too concerned with what people might think. And I missed the hell out. It was my loss. It was my mistake. Now, thanks largely to Harper and her massive collection of Smiths albums, I listen to The Smiths all the time. I realize what a great band they are (though, not the best of the last 50 years, NME). And think about what a numbskull I used to be.
(Dear reader: I like doing the seven songs thing, and want to try and do it every Friday. I think it's an interesting way for me to see where my head is, as well as a good way to hear what other people are listening to. I wound up downloading several of the songs people listed last week. And the confession seems to set it apart from a standard list. But I dunno. Is it to much? Would it be a better regular feature without the confession? I'm going to continue doing the list. But the confession: keep it or lose it?)
- l i n k -
