Category Archives: music

The day the music got really sad

Posted on 6 January 2012 | Leave a comment

It’s official.

My entire youth fits into one New York City subway tote. Granted, a few things are missing like Gilmore Girls seasons 1 – 7, a handful of neon jelly bracelets and a  very beat up pair of red Converses. However the bag does hold my once monstrous CD collection, or what’s left of it.

Around my junior year, I began purging my CD collection. I got rid of anything I’d be embarrassed for someone to see. (I’m looking at you ‘NSYNC “No Strings Attached.”) That was also the time I stopped buying new CDs. After much dogged determination to hold on to the good ole days when new music meant going to Best Buy not clicking “purchase” on iTunes, I finally began buying all my music digitally. The music might not have died that day but it sure sounded melancholy.

Today–or rather tomorrow when I haul my tote bag to The Exchange and see what my youth amounts to in dollars in cents–the music will have unofficially died. All the CDs I’m selling will have a forever home on my iPod, Janis, (as in Joplin), but it still feels a tad bittersweet.

There’s no need to keep them. They take up valuable shelf space and rarely do I pop a CD into my Bose player. It’s much easier to just plug in Janis and hit shuffle. But those CDs got me through my awkward high school years when I wanted to dress like Penny Lane from “Almost Famous” and date the lead guitarist. They got me through college when I struggled with classes, tried to deal with my OCD, and spent nights bemoaning boys with my roommate. Music was and is a huge part of my life, and my collection of 200+ CDs went along with it. I worry that no one will know I’m cool just by looking at my CD collection. After all, scrolling through an iPod just isn’t as romantic.

I remember the mix CDs my friends and I made constantly. I remember the summer of ’06 when my favorite album was The Ataris “So Long, Astoria.” I remember buying CDs from earnest musicians peddling their wares outside the gates of Warped Tour in Cincinnati. I remember singing along to “Hands Down” and “New American Classic” and “Empty Apartment.” I remember when I was convinced no man would ever make me feel the way Chris Carrabba could when he strums that guitar.

I still remember everything.

 

 

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Bieber Fever

Posted on 24 January 2011 | 1 Comment

It’s official: Justin Bieber isn’t going anywhere.

February 2011, Vanity Fair

Most people say a musician makes it once he or she is on the cover of Rolling Stone. However, I disagree. It’s easy to get on the cover of Rolling Stone if you’re a musician. I mean come on, it’s a music magazine. Everyone from The Beatles to Britney Spears–some more deserving than others–has been on the cover of Rolling Stone. But to be on the cover of Vanity Fair, well that’s the true mark of stardom, the final step in an artist’s journey to total universal takeover.

I may sound a bit dramatic, but this is Vanity Fair we’re talking about. For those of you who’ve never picked up an issue of this amazing magazine, well first shame on you. Second Vanity Fair isn’t a music magazine or a movies magazine; it’s not even an entertainment magazine. As my best friend, and fellow magazine aficionado, Adam told me during our first week of college four and a half years ago: Vanity Fair is a lifestyle. It covers everything from dead celebrities to political scandals to Oscar winners to rich, misunderstood tech geniuses. Rolling Stone wishes it could be Vanity Fair. Hell, it wishes it could be placed on the same shelf at Barnes & Noble as Vanity Fair. That’s why Justin Bieber on the cover of Vanity Fair isn’t just surprising. It’s a big fucking deal. This teen pop star from Canada with the chic lesbian haircut just made naysayers like me hold our tongue.

I haven’t had a chance to pick the magazine up yet, but from what I’ve seen of the Behind the Scenes video, I already like it. I especially love the screaming hordes of tweens featured in the magazine. One girl even called the Bieb’s hair “luscious.” That is enough reason to watch the video (posted below).

Regardless of my personal opinion of Justin Bieber, you’ve got to give the kid credit. He must be doing something right to end up on the cover of Vanity Fair. Plus, I kind of love the idea of a bunch of tweens making their parents take them to the nearest bookstore, Target or grocery store to pick up the magazine. The thought of all those young minds reading one of the best magazines makes my journalism heart all a-flutter. I can only imagine how many issues Justin Bieber just sold for Vanity Fair. Graydon Carter owes the Bieb’s a giant muffin basket.

Bieber Fever, posted with vodpod

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Why I hate teenagers

Posted on 29 January 2010 | 2 Comments

You know that line in “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance? The one that goes “Teenagers scare the living shit out of me.” Although I love MCR, the band is wrong. Teenagers do not scare me at all. Rather, they annoy the living shit out of me.

It’s past annoyance though. It’s moved on to full-blown loathing.

My least favorite teenagers are the ones who thinks neon T-shirts, jelly bracelets, and pristine Chuck Taylors are a fashion statement. They’re the ones taking over music venues and flooding my favorite shows with their over-excited squeals, bad emo makeup/ hair, and worse, their parents. (But we’ll get to that in a bit.)

My beef with teenagers started three years ago when ironically, I was still one myself. It was winter 2007 when I was 19. The show was As Cities Burn, Pierce the Veil, Mayday Parade and Emery. I purposefully stood in the back so I could avoid the teenagers and mosh pits. Unfortunately some silly girl didn’t get the memo that the back was reserved for college kids who came for the music, not the moshing. (I think her skinny jeans cut off blood flow to her brain.) She and her friend decided to start their own two-person mosh pit. Sweet right!? She kept running into everyone. Since no one said anything, I decided to speak (or rather act) for the group and pushed her into a wall. I think I may have said something like “Fuck off!” or “Grow up!” but that’s not important. Needless to say, she got the memo.

When I complained to my roommate about my strong dislike for teenagers, he told me it was because I listened to too many “Myspace bands.” I resent that. There’s no age limit on music. There is however, an age limit on acting like a tool at a concert. Unless you’re a Creed fan, which makes you a tool by association. When I see these kids who seem to get younger with each concert, I cringe because I know that I used to be like them. Although to be fair, my parents never accompanied me to a concert. But I did wear the stupid T-shirts, the artfully ripped jeans and, I’m ashamed to say, the jelly bracelets. I can’t even imagine how many 20-somethings I pissed off as I moshed my way to the front of the stage.

At the same time, I’m a bit envious of these kids. When I was in high school, finding new music was a challenge. Sure there was Myspace and Purevolume, but I didn’t even know where to start. I didn’t start listening to decent music until 10th grade. Now these “Myspace bands” are making it big and becoming accessible to everyone. The bands are younger and so are the fans.

I can count on one hand how many shows I went to in high school. It’s not that I didn’t want to, but it was just a pain. I had to okay it with my parents, convince them to drive me, find a friend to go (considering most of my friends in high school liked country and Top 20 hits, this was a challenge), and con my rents into letting me use their credit card to buy the ticket online. I once asked my mom if I could go to the ’05 Warped Tour in Cleveland. I learned real quick asking your parents to go to a show three hours away by yourself at age 16 would most definitely end with a “Hell no!” Now, parents are more than happy to follow their kids from one Warped Tour stage to the next. That doesn’t make it cool, but I’m sure today’s teenagers have been to more shows in their 16 years then I have in my 21 years.

All I can do is hope today’s youth grow out of this stage and soon. Until then, I’ll stand in the back.

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