If you don\’t know the song the below is emulating, then it will sound very absurdly pretentious, indeed. Which, well… I suppose it is. But it made Maude laugh, so here we go:
I Never Had Much of an Edge to Begin With
I was four years old when all the great shows were happening. Gang of Four, Richard Hell, the Slits, Sonic Youth… my boyfriend was there, coked out of his mind with his various girlfriends. I still had a bed time of 8pm and was just learning to read. For the past ten years I\’ve wished I was just fifteen, twenty years older — to have seen the shows that he taunts me with memories of.
Now, here in the double-oh five, I wonder if ten years from now I am going to kick myself for not having got my butt out the door and to the clubs. Will I be upset with myself for missing today\’s underground faves? Franz Ferdinand? Modest Mouse? I think not.
I attended the last Babes In Toyland tour, much to the chagrin of the friends I dragged there with me. I\’ve seen ancient godfathers Suicide — now that was worthy of four hours of ear drum blasting. I saw the best damn Pan Sonic show to ever grace the planet, let alone the tiny back stage with twenty odd people attending that it was. I got heckled by Peaches, I scored an interview with Gonzales, I danced with Justine from Elastica at the best post-punk show I have ever experienced. I saw a phenomenal come back tour from Wire, riding high on the then-new release of Read and Burn 01.
I saw The Roots get booed off stage. I fell asleep at a Lou Reed show. I watched Fat Bob turn a 180 backstage and actually smile. I left a J Live show before the man even hit the stage, and I don\’t even recall why. I went to see the Spice Girls sans Ginger, with my red hair curled and my stompy platform boots on, and did all of her dance steps for her from the lawn, surrounded by nine year old girls. That was my shining moment — what indie cred is it that you speak of?
I queued up for tickets to see Garbage play the Black Cat before you even knew who they were. I hung out with Taylor Hawkins before he was in the Foo Fighters. I saw Radiohead live twice while they were promoting The Bends. I interviewed local rock stars on public access television in 1995, before Baltimore was on anybody\’s radar.
But all that means nothing, because I was born twenty years too late. I missed seeing Madonna at the Danceteria. No Blondie or Television at CBGBs for me. I never saw Human League — before or after they started to suck. I missed out on seeing The Replacements drunkenly fumble all over their equipment. I was in a high chair when R.E.M. was a small name at the old 930. I missed the prime days of punk before the screaming divas took a swan dive into Blink 182 territory. But that\’s okay, because I get to relive it all vicariously through someone who was there. If I\’m lucky, maybe there will be another there to be at. More likely that it\’s already here and I just have no idea where. Youth is now on my side, but my finger has fallen off the pulse of what all the kids are into these days.
I don\’t know what I really want.
