Another thing that showed up in early 90s electronic music was the seemingly misplaced vocal sample that somehow fit perfectly in the song. I used to love those, partly because I enjoyed the game of ‘hey I know that bit!’ and how creative they slid it into the track.
Like “Papua New Guinea” by The Future Sound of London, whose main vocal line was lifted from Dead Can Dance’s “Dawn of the Iconoclast” (a track off my favorite DCD album, 1987’s Within the Realm of a Dying Sun). Several of my classmates at Emerson loved this track, and they’d play it all the time at the clubs on Landsdowne Street.
….or Utah Saints’ “Something Good”, which made liberal use of Kate Bush’s “Cloudbusting”. I loved cranking this one up in the car when it came on the radio.
Then there’s Apotheosis with “O Fortuna”, lifting the famous choral movement from Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana. This one I remember well because they’d lifted the sample from a classical recording and hadn’t gotten clearance, making the single hard to find.
And then there’s just the downright silly “Sesame’s Treet” by Smart E’s. Somehow they made this work despite how ridiculous it is. Peak Gen-X retromania here, mixing our present and past into one.
Much later in the decade, a friend of mine introduced me to the equally silly “Speed” by Alpha Team, and I literally had a coworker at the record store writhing on the floor in laughter when I played him the breakdown part of the Hardcore Mix (about 3:30 in).
I suppose this is partly why I eventually latched onto electronic music in the 90s, because it wasn’t always about the scene or the vibe. It wasn’t always serious. Sometimes it was just about having fun being creative with the technology you had, even if the output was more for laughs than anything else.
As mentioned a few weeks back, I’ve been catching up on Orbital, an electronic duo that I passively listened to in the 90s. I was vaguely familiar with a lot of their earlier singles like “Halcyon + On + On”, “Chime” and “Lush 3”, but it was 1996’s “The Box” off their album In Sides that caught my attention, especially with its otherworldly and unsettling music video featuring the always intriguing Tilda Swinton as a time-traveling alien visiting the grimier parts of East London. It’s one of my all-time favorite videos of the 90s and was one of the many influences for the Bridgetown Trilogy.
While listening to them, it got me thinking about my experience with electronic music in the 90s. Even then it had all sorts of different genres and names: techno, house, EBM, electronica, chillwave, trip-hop, and everything in between. If I had to pinpoint when I first started paying attention to this kind of stuff, it was hearing “Chime” on the techno show on WFNX during my freshman year in college. It intrigued me, because it wasn’t exactly the melodic synthpop of the 80s that I was so used to, but nor was it the vaguely creative club music that producers like Stock-Aitken-Waterman were churning out on the regular. To me it was somewhere in between: creative enough that you could groove to it at the clubs, but you could also chill out to it in the comfort of your own home. [Mind you, this was also during the height of rave culture so you could do both while completely blissed out, heh.]
Another track that stood out for me, of course, was Moby’s “Go” with its use of Laura Palmer’s Theme from Twin Peaks as the music bed. Creepy and weird yet somehow hypnotic and groovy. This was well before his huge breakthrough with 1997’s Play.
Trip-hop didn’t quite gel with me right away, as it didn’t get a lot of play on the local alternative stations in Boston at the time other than Massive Attack’s “Unfinished Sympathy”, which also got a lot of attention for its hybrid of dance, soul, and heavy vibe. It wasn’t just about the lyrics or the melody, it was also about the mood, and that kind of thing always captured my attention. It also helped that its one-continuous-take video was so simple yet so cinematic. A lot of the best electronic music in the 90s strived to capture that.
I could go on, of course, but this is merely an overview, so perhaps it’s time for me to do another WiS series!
Kinda like a cloud I was up way up in the sky And I was feeling some feelings you wouldn’t believe Sometimes I don’t believe them myself And I decided I was never coming down Just then a tiny little dot caught my eye It was just about too small to see But I watched it way too long It was pulling me down
I knew where Trent Reznor was going with these lyrics, but my interpretation in the autumn of 1989 when I first heard it was personal: it was a parallel to the past two years of my life, when I’d finally found my own close circle of friends, only to have them leave upon graduation. See, back then there were two things I had to deal with as a teenager: one, the lack of any kind of social media or easy (and inexpensive) way to remain in contact with them…and two, undiagnosed ADHD that had me hyperfocusing on all the wrong things. “Down In It” encapsulated what I felt at the time: having lost what had been a really great thing followed by the triple-punch of maintaining a long-distance relationship, the inability to find my place at college, and my inability to properly focus on schoolwork. Most of that first year in college was spent in a slow but constant spiral.
I mean, I was also drawn to the band’s unique sound, a mix between the grooving EBM beats of Front 242, the heavy anger of Ministry’s distorted industrial metal, the sterile synthetics of mid-80s Depeche Mode, the clinical experimentation of Severed Heads, the atmospherics of 4AD, and the goth doom of Skinny Puppy. [Reznor admits this song was definitely a riff on their single “Dig It” from 1986.] It was an album that bridged the sounds and lyrics of 80s and 90s electronic music, taking the listener towards a kind of darkness they might not be prepared for. It was the perfect soundtrack to what was going on in my head at the time.
I wasn’t the biggest fan of the second single and album opener “Head Like a Hole” — I felt it didn’t quite capture the tense desperation of “Down In It” — but it certainly worked as a big fuck you to my roommate, who I should not have been roommates with. But the second track, “Terrible Lie”…
…that was an even bigger and more violent fuck you to the world in general. I was not a happy person then, obviously.
Side-closer “Something I Can Never Have” was part of that. I’d been put through so many emotional wringers over the last several months and saddled with so many stressful situations I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared for that this song was the closest to how I felt at the time: exhausted, lost, and numb. I knew I had to deal with these spirals, not to mention having to figure out workarounds that would help me academically, but I wasn’t entirely sure if I had the strength to keep it up. I kept feeling like I was heading in a direction I didn’t want to go in.
Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be.
I’ve said plenty of times that I used to listen to my copy of this on my Walkman on train rides home for the weekend during those first few college years. Friday nights on the Leominster-Fitchburg line, having escaped the stress of school and looking forward to a few all-too-quick hours with my girlfriend T. A day or so to recharge before I headed back into Boston on Sunday afternoon, ready for another go. Pretty Hate Machine was a reminder of where I was at that point in time, a way of prepping myself for the inevitable facing of another day in a situation I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in.
Which is why I loved that “Kinda I Want To” opened side two. It was a complete change of direction: you know what? Fuck it. Let’s do this. Let’s see where this all goes, good or bad. As much as I thought I needed emotional and mental stability at the time, I also knew I needed to BREAK THE CYCLE.
Nothing quite like the feel of something new…
“The Only Time” was part of that as well. After the chaos of the track (and third single) “Sin” and the pain of “That’s What I Get”, we’re finally at the point where I want to say enough is fucking ENOUGH already. In my head I had to break so many cycles: my Catholic upbringing, my small-town mindset, my pleasing others often to the detriment of my own happiness. I had to cut ties somehow. Or at least ride it all out until I could escape.
Ending the album with “Ringfinger” may not have helped matters, because to me it was a reminder that change could not and would not happen overnight, and not without my needing to take the necessary steps first. Some of those steps would be immediate, others would take a few more years. But I had to make that move. Emotionally exhausted or not, there was no other direction I could move at that point.
*
This album popped into my Threads feed the other day, as it had celebrated its 35th anniversary on Sunday. “Down In It” had also popped up on KEXP the morning I’d had to drive A down to SFO for one of her business trips, and it got me thinking about just how close I’d gotten to this album back in 1989 and into 1990. My cassette copy of the album had been played so often that most of the lettering had worn off it. It got a major amount of play throughout the years (except for a few where The Downward Spiral took its place in the mid-90s) and resurfaced again during the Belfry years. I still equate it to that time in my life where I felt like I was on a precipice. Decades have passed and I’ve figured out mental workarounds and achieved emotional stability. I never thought of that time as “just being a fucked-up kid”, to be honest, because I was trying not to be. I just had a lot of growing up to do and had to do it with little to no guidance, and I had to do it without help or influence, one way or another.
I’ve remained a Nine Inch Nails fan, though I don’t think I’ve ever resonated so deeply with an album as I did with Pretty Hate Machine. It’s an album that came out at a specific point in time, provided a life soundtrack, and kept me balanced in its own unique way.
So. Out of college, working at minimum wage for an overpriced market in a tony neighborhood, and cutting financial corners wherever and whenever you could? Well, not yet. There was a slight problem in that I had to wait a couple of weeks between leaving the dorm on 6 Arlington and moving into the sublet on Symphony Road for the summer. I borrowed the apartment of a friend of my sister’s up in Lowell and took the train in for about two weeks first. I remember staying up late, watching MTV and thinking about how I was literally starting at the bottom rung while most of my somewhat more financially secure fellow college students had it a bit easier. I pretty much experienced that rich vs poor dichotomy from day fucking one. Not to mention being disconnected from friends and family because this was well before social media and email were easily available, let alone personal computers being affordable.
Still — despite being a moody bastard most of the time, I wasn’t about to let it beat me down. I’d survive somehow. And I certainly wasn’t going to give up on the writing.
*
U2, “Numb” single, 1 June 1993. So how do you follow up a genre-defining album that completely rearranges your sound and style? Well, in the case of this band, you write and record new songs while still on the road and in between tours. Those who thought Achtung Baby was a weird album had no idea how to parse this single, but alternative stations like WFNX was all over it.
Sun 60, Only, released 1 June 1993. A sunny breezy summer song about Christmas? Sure, why not? “Mary X-Mess” was a favorite of the alternative stations and got a ton of play, even though they weren’t a band anyone these days remembers all that much. Still, it’s a record worth checking out!
Slowdive, Souvlaki, released 1 June 1993. The genre-defining shoegaze band’s second album is a lovely and relaxing record and one of my favorites (and it’s the first one of theirs I’d bought, though a few years after release). They sound stronger and more cohesive on this one.
Mixtape, Untitled IV, created June 1993. The first post-college tape was made at that Lowell apartment as a mix of my favorite tracks that had been released during my senior year, so while it’s a great and fun collection, it had a certain melancholy baked into it. It got a lot of play on my headphones during work commutes, but it was also a stark reminder of a time that was over and past.
Mixtape, WAUGH!!! Vol 1, created June 1993. The second post-college tape was originally planned as a collection of songs my sister’s friend owned that I wanted in my collection but didn’t have the money to buy. Named after a Monty Python line (from the ‘Argument Clinic’ sketch), it was my take on the ‘cheesefest’ of 70s and 80s retromania going on at the time.
Tears for Fears, Elemental, released 7 June 1993. Curt Smith had left the band by this time so this was essentially a Roland Orzabal solo record, but it’s got some great tunes on it like the big single “Break It Down Again”, which I still hear every now and then.
Urge Overkill, Saturation, released 8 June 1993. By far their most radio-friendly record at that point, this album divided fans who felt they were selling out and others who were happy for their success. Little did they know that an obscure EP track of a Neil Diamond cover would become their biggest hit ever in about a year…
Paul McCartney/Wings, The Paul McCartney Collection reissues, released 8 June 1993. It took me quite a few years to get around to picking these up, but they were easily available at the bigger record stores like Tower. These were lightly remastered with several b-sides and would become the choice collection until Sir Paul started his major remaster project years later.
The Verve, A Storm in Heaven, released 15 June 1993. A good few years before the ubiquitous “Bittersweet Symphony” plagued the airwaves, this band introduced themselves with a strange yet perfect mix of shoegaze, psychedelia and Britpop and garnered fans almost immediately.
Liz Phair, Exile in Guyville, released 22 June 1993. At the time I lumped Phair in with PJ Harvey, an indie woman songwriter with no fucks given, and it took me a bit of time to get used to this record, especially with its majestic length and its curious nod to the Stones record I felt (even then) was a bit overrated. It’s not for everyone, but it’s definitely an interesting listen.
The Flaming Lips, Transmissions from the Satellite Heart, released 22 June 1993. Yes, that band with that song that finally put them on the indie map. They’d always had a loyal fanbase, but this was the record that expanded it considerably. To this day this is most likely the one of maybe three Lips songs you’ll hear on commercial alternative radio.
Billy Idol, Cyberpunk, released 29 June 1993. I remember this coming out and being fascinated by the concept, even as critics and fans alike dismissed it as a terrible and misguided album. The fascinating thing is that Idol really did do his homework on this one and a lot of the songs do tie in with the burgeoning SF subgenre that wouldn’t catch on in the mainstream for another couple of years. He still plays “Shock to the System” in his live shows!
*
Coming up: The Gen-X story continues: the trials and tribulations of not knowing what the hell you’re doing.
The very last class and exam I took for my school years was for my French class. I’d unfortunately learned a bit too late that my brain doesn’t process foreign languages correctly (I can understand them just fine once I learn them, but I can’t speak them without my brain stuttering to a halt to translate), but somehow I’d managed to just about pass it, thus giving me the points I needed to get a Bachelor of Arts degree. I handed in the test when I was done and celebrated my newfound freedom across the street by taking a seat at the Wall (more like a curb, the student gathering spot in front of 130 Beacon) and having a cigarette.
To be honest, I was kind of hoping I’d feel that freedom, but I felt the opposite: now what the hell do I do? In the words of Dave Sim, it was less of a grand finale and more of a grand finally. That’s when it all kicked in: Day One of adulthood. Now that I didn’t have school to distract me, it was time to start figuring things out.
Easier said than done, of course.
New Order, Republic, released 3 May 1993. It had been a surprisingly long number of years between albums for this group, considering they all went their separate ways to work on solo projects (Electronic, Revenge and the endearingly-named The Other Two). They came back stronger than ever with an album considered one of their best.
Blur, Modern Life Is Rubbish, released 10 May 1993. This is one of my top favorite Blur albums for many reasons. They’ve moved beyond the heady Madchester grooves of their first album and headed towards more introspective and observational themes. There are a lot of Gen-X moods going on here: poverty, emotional distraction, avoidance and ironic humor. This one has some wonderful tracks on it and I still listen to it now and again.
Aimee Mann, Whatever, released 11 May 1993. After the break-up of Til Tuesday in 1990, Mann was unable to contractually release anything for another couple of years, but the end result was a fine solo debut of sunny alternapop that proved she was still a fine songwriter. She may not have been a Boston local any longer, but WFNX played this one a ton just the same.
Wire, 1985-1990: The A List, released 18 May 1993. One of the first (of sadly far too many) albums I bought when I first got a credit card (this and the This Mortal Coil box), I knew this would get a ton of play on my headphones, considering they were — and still are — one of my all-time favorite bands. This one’s a ‘football roster’ mix of fan favorites, with “Ahead” in the obvious top spot. It’s a great collection and a great place to start if you’re curious about their mid-era sound.
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Don’t Know How to Party, released 18 May 1993. Their third album was their first on a major label, it feels a bit more laid back than their usual hard-driving ska-core sound, but at the same time that helped become a great summer record for the Boston area.
Guru, Jazzmatazz, Vol 1, released 18 May 1993. Somehow I never got around to adding this (and its several later volumes) to my collection, but I do of course remember it getting all kinds of attention from both critics and fans. While the mix of jazz and rap wasn’t entirely a brand new thing by then, this album gave it a fresh new sound with its Blue Note-inspired jazz sounds — a live band instead of samples — blending perfectly with the chill rap delivery. Highly recommended.
Aztec Camera, Dreamland, released 23 May 1993. Roddy Frame’s return after a lengthy break (1990’s Stray was the previous record) had him sounding less indie/folky and more streamlined pop, but that wasn’t necessarily a band thing considering his penchant for writing wonderful songs. “Dream Sweet Dreams” is a lovely track that got a lot of play on WFNX that summer.
The Waterboys, Dream Harder, released 25 May 1993. Mike Scott’s next record was similar to 1990’s Room to Roam in that it was full of energy, but the main difference here was that the band’s sound on this one veered more towards straight alternative rock, sans the usual Irish folk influence. It would end up being the last Waterboys release for a number of years as he focused on his own solo work.
By April of 1993 I realized that this was going to be the very last semester of any schooling I’d ever attend. I had no plans or reasons to look into graduate school, having finally admitted to myself that I’m more of a ‘learn by experience’ student than a ‘learn by theory and text’ student. I’d always been turned off by the idea of theoretical dissection and debate; it did nothing for me because that wasn’t how my brain worked. Mine always went in the opposite direction: I loved how things fit together. This meant that these were going to be the last exams, the last term papers, the last final projects I’d ever be dealing with, and I really liked the idea of that.
Mind you, this also meant that my road ahead was going to be hard, often lonely, and with a lot of fuck-ups along the way. I wasn’t looking forward to that, but I at least knew that was coming. I prepared myself by thinking ahead: I knew I wanted to be a writer, so that was what I was going to need to focus on most.
It would take quite a long time, but I’d get it soon enough.
*
Guided By Voices, The Grand Hour EP and Vampire On Titus, released 1 April 1993. I actually knew about this band early on as one of those beloved by the critics and DJs in the know but rarely ever found in smaller record stores. I believe I’d heard “Shocker in Gloomtown” on WZBC (Boston College’s station) and maybe on WFNX one late evening.
David Bowie, Black Tie White Noise, released 5 April 1993. “Jump They Say” was a big favorite on WFNX at the time, as this was his first post-Tin Machine record under his own name again. It’s a very polished-sounding album and maybe not my favorite of his, but there are quite a few good tracks on it.
Sugar, Beaster EP, released 6 April 1993. After the brilliant Copper Blue, Bob Mould released a hard and fast six-track mini LP that melded the melodic parts of this new band of his with the noise of his previous band Husker Du. The end result is blistering and noisy fun.
Tool, Undertow, released 6 April 1993. I don’t think there was any band that sounded quite like this at the time: the heaviness of grunge, the headiness of prog, and the nihilism of metal, and somehow capturing the attention of countless critics and fans. Even the bizarreness of the video for “Sober” earned it heavy rotation on MTV at the time. More to the point, they even got my attention and they totally weren’t a band I’d actively listen to.
His Name Is Alive, Mouty By Mouth, released 13 April 1993. It took me a while to get where this band was going with their music and why they were on the revered 4AD label, as they felt more like outsider indie folk than anything else. But every now and again they’d have a song (like the above) that I really enjoyed.
Sarah Brightman, Dive, released 20 April 1993. Now this album was totally against type for me: I’d heard “Captain Nemo” on WFNX of all places one night and I was kind of fascinated by it…it had that dreamlike cinematic feel that would fit right in with my style of writing. I bought this one at Tower on cassette not knowing she was a well-known stage singer looking to pivot into pop, and I found myself really liking it. I’d play this one a lot on my headphones if I was heading somewhere on the T.
Midnight Oil, Earth and Sun and Moon, released 20 April 1993. I’d heard this one later in the summer of that year when I worked at DeLuca’s Market on Charles Street; one of the managers threw the album on after closing when we were cleaning up. I instantly fell in love with the track “Outbreak of Love” and ran out and bought it at Tower the next day!
World Party, Bang!, released 26 April 1993. Karl Wallinger’s output has always been consistently great (and he’s a super nice guy too, as I’d met him years later at Amoeba here in SF some years back). Pretty much everything he’s put out has been a mix of catchy pop and quirky indie rock.
PJ Harvey, Rid of Me, released 26 April 1993. The indie kids loved her records, and so did WFNX, because she was so hard to pin down into one genre. She could be sexy, confrontational, discomforting and funny, sometimes within the span of the same song. Her early albums are definitely worth checking out, and she’s about to release a new one very soon!
The Posies, Frosting On the Beater, released 27 April 1993. A jangly indie pop band that the critics loved, I’d hear the wonderfully shimmering “Flavor of the Month” on WFNX all the time and it became one of my favorite summer songs that year.
Porno for Pyros, Porno for Pyros, released 27 April 1993. Perry Farrell’s return to music after Jane’s Addiction’s implosion (and focusing on running Lollapalooza, which was still a traveling show at the time) was a more down-tempo record but featured some of his best work, including the ubiquitous single “Pets”.
Brad, Shame, released 27 April 1993. This was an interesting group in that it was essentially several musician friends from the Seattle area getting together to occasionally record and release music that didn’t quite fit the sounds of their own bands. This was also one of many groups headed by Seattleite Shawn Smith, who would pop up all over the place over the next several years.
If I learned anything about filmmaking at Emerson, it’s that I didn’t think I was going to be good at it. In fact, I was kind of terrible! I certainly had the images of what I wanted to see in my head, but there was no way I’d be able to follow through if I’d kept digging at it…especially since I’d also realized that I really wasn’t the best at networking, let alone knowing anyone who’d be interested in following through with my crazy ideas. After an extremely frustrating and unhelpful talk with my student advisor, I stepped back and realized, what is my strength here anyway, if it’s not making film?
Well, duh.
It’s writing.
So for the last couple of semesters at Emerson, I took screenwriting classes, and that was the best damn decision I’d made in my college years. It prepared me for the long haul: this was going to be a solo endeavor, and I’d be starting from the bottom, but it taught me how to get those images in my head on paper in a more coherent way. I finally knew exactly what I wanted to do as a career.
The Cranberries, Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?, released 1 March 1993. It took me a little while to warm up to this band, but when I did I loved “Linger”. The opening segment of the song to me evokes a kind of waking up. You still hear this and “Dreams” on alternative radio these days.
Living Colour, Stain, released 2 March 1993. This band’s third album before their split didn’t sell as much as the previous two, and I think it’s because this was a bit of a serious record, actually kind of an angry one. However, it’s got some really great tunes on it, well worth listening.
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Ska-Core, the Devil and More EP, released 8 March 1993. Our favorite local ska-core boys dropped this record with “Someday I Suppose” as its lead track (it would show up on their new full-length in a few months), which got play on pretty much all the Boston rock stations.
The Beloved, Conscience, released 9 March 1993. This band finally followed up their fantastic debut with an even sleeker beat-driven dance record, and it’s just as lovely. I really dug the single “Sweet Harmony” at the time.
Frank Black, Frank Black, released 9 March 1993. The then-ex-Pixies singer’s debut was part of what seemed to be a giant flourish of new 4AD records (alongside Belly, The Breeders, and more) that featured the label’s newer, fresher sound. Frank is still the consummate weirdo here, just like with his previous band, but there’s also a bit of retro punk to it as well.
311, Music, released 9 March 1993. This was the record that introduced me to this band, and it’s much funkier and jammier than what we’d come to know them by. I had “Freak Out” as a breakout song on the WECB playlist for a while. I’m still a fan to this day.
The Judybats, Pain Makes You Beautiful, released 9 March 1993. This band never quite got the attention it deserved, partly because they didn’t quite fit the popular mold at the time, though WFNX did give them a bit of play during the years they were together. This third record is by far my favorite: it’s got so many gorgeous songs like “Being Simple” balanced by nutty humor like “Incredible Bittersweet”. Bonus points too for being recorded at Long View Farm, which was a studio in North Brookfield MA, just outside of Worcester!
Saint Etienne, So Tough, released 9 March 1993. I knew them from their previous record Foxbase Alpha (which had the groovy cover of Neil Young’s “Only Love Can Break Your Heart”), but this one became a favorite of mine partly due to the above song and its amazing ability to perfectly capture retro 60s UK Northern Soul. I still pick up their records, and member Bob Stanley is also an amazing music biographer whose books you should definitely check out.
Sting, Ten Summoner’s Tales, released 9 March 1993. I never followed Sting’s solo career all that closely though he did have several singles I liked. This is probably my second favorite album of his (Nothing Like the Sun gets the top spot), and I’ve always liked the above lead single. I did get to see him on this tour later on in the year.
Depeche Mode, Songs of Faith and Devotion, released 22 March 1993. This was such a polarizing album when it came out! It definitely wasn’t Violator, that’s for sure. The obvious theme throughout it is indeed faith and devotion, whether spiritual or personal. It’s a very dense and sometimes angry record, but I fell in love with it immediately.
PM Dawn, The Bliss Album…? (Vibrations of Love and Anger and the Ponderance of Life and Existence), released 23 March 1993. I didn’t pick this one up right away, but I’ve always loved this duo as well. This one proved that they weren’t just a one-hit wonder and could write some amazing stuff.
The Pursuit of Happiness, The Downward Road, released 23 March 1993. This band had fallen into semi-obscurity after 1988’s Love Junk and its silly “I’m an Adult Now”, but I really enjoyed this one.
The London Suede, Suede, released 29 March 1993. This band actually kind of turned me off at first when their first singles dropped — I thought they were a bit too glammy for my tastes — but something told me to pick up this debut record, and it ended up being one of my favorites of the year! While most other Britpop bands of the time wore their 60s inspiration (or their 80s drugs) on their sleeves, this one said ‘we’re going to be the bastard son of 70s Bowie and T Rex’ and pulled it off brilliantly. Highly recommended.
This Mortal Coil, 1983-1991, released 30 March 1993. A collective that deeply inspired my writing over several years. It took me a few months to get around to picking this up, but it was well worth it: a collection of TMC’s three records, plus a fourth disc of the originals they’d covered on them. This box set would get a ton of play over the years until it was finally replaced by the self-titled 2011 box.
So. Slacker Central, you say? Where did that name come from? It was a comic idea I’d come up with around this time that sadly didn’t get much love or attention. It was to come from the ashes of my previous comic idea Murph, both of which featured classic Gen-X characters trying to figure out their lives, who the hell they were, and obsessing over music, and their gathering spot was a Central Perk style coffee house based on the Trident Bookstore on Newbury Street. [And yes, the “Slacker” part of it was from the Richard Linklater movie, which remains one of my top favorites from the era.] In the end I only drew maybe four or so ‘shots’ along with writing a few pages of notes, but it would later morph into the also-trunked story Two Thousand, which I’d work on about a year later.
The point here being: my life might have been in the crapper at the time, but I certainly wasn’t about to let that distract me from creativity.
Various Artists, Caution! Hot Tips!, released February 1993. This compilation from Melody Maker somehow made its way to WERS during my last year there and was a great collection of indie bands that weren’t getting a lot of attention at the time. Hum in particular was a favorite, and would get their due a few years later with the classic “Stars”.
Sunscreem, O₃, released 2 February 1993. I may not have been fully into the early 90s electronica scene, but there were some albums and tunes that I absolutely loved, and this was one of them. “Love U More” got a lot of play on my headphones at the time as a great emotional pick-me-up. I got to see them live opening for Inspiral Carpets at the Paradise and they put on a hell of a fun show!
Belly, Star, released 2 February 1993. There were high expectations for this album and the band more than met them with a great mix of bright and cheerful indie pop and slightly odd Muses-like meanderings. Well worth picking up.
Pure, Pureafunalia, released 8 February 1993. Another freebie from WECB, I really dug the single “Blast” and had it on the station’s rotation. They were definitely part of that 90s ‘popternative’ sound (as I would later call it), easily dropped into commercial alt-rock radio which had gotten an incredibly strong foothold at this point.
Quicksand, Slip, released 9 February 1993. A sort-of alt-metal/hardcore band from NYC, I met these guys at a meet-and-greet a month or so later and found lead singer Walter to be a super nice guy. And yes, that definitely helped me enjoy this band even more!
Jellyfish, Spilt Milk, released 9 February 1993. The follow-up to the amazing 1991 debut Bellybutton was…not nearly as hearts-and-flowers cheerful or sunshine poppy, and guitarist Jason Falkner had already left. I didn’t listen to this one all that much, but after hearing it several years later on the 2015 remaster, I’ve come to enjoy it a lot more.
Dinosaur Jr, Where You Been, released 9 February 1993. A New England band that never quite left its Pioneer Valley roots, they were always popular on several local stations and especially on WFNX. They’d lightened up considerably at this point and weren’t quite the noise-punk band they once were (especially now that Lou Barlow was out of the picture), which interestingly enough let their surprisingly melodic songwriting shine through.
Depeche Mode, “I Feel You” single, released 15 February 1993. Nearly three years after their chart-topping album Violator (and an extremely long tour), the band took a hard left turn and churned out a new track that was heavier and punchier than anything they’d ever done. This wasn’t going to be the same synth band we all knew and loved, and not everyone appreciated it, and the end result would be both intriguing and divisive.
The Rosemarys, Providence, released 16 February 1993. As I’ve said before, I kept my musical options open around this time and tended to gravitate towards Britpop and indie shoegaze and dreampop like this. This was another album that popped up during my WECB tenure and “Collide” ended up on one of my rotations as well as one of my mixtapes. [Side note: there were a few Boston bands that had this sound too, including a band called Pipes that were a big favorite with the college crowd.]
Radiohead, Pablo Honey, released 22 February 1993. ….and then there’s an album that introduced the world to a British band that would change the face of alternative rock for years to come. Even then you could tell they were different: while all the big name bands were trying to reinvent themselves and discover new sounds or jumping on a bandwagon, Radiohead was classic post-punk: moody atmospherics and lyrics, simple delivery and a brutal honesty missing from the scene. And “Creep” was everywhere. I’m proud to say I was there at their first-ever US appearance at Citi on Landsdowne Street, and it was an amazing show.
Duran Duran, Duran Duran (The Wedding Album), released 23 February 1993. They’d fallen a bit from grace for a few years there, not quite hitting the heights with 1988’s Big Thing and utterly failing with 1990’s Liberty, but this was a true return to form: stunning songwriting and a serious focus on capturing what made them so damn popular in the first place. A fantastic record from start to finish.
Grant Lee Buffalo, Fuzzy, released 23 February 1993. You could probably file this band in with the ‘slowcore’ movement, though they were more of a country/folk version of it. It’s a very sad sounding record, but the title track is absolutely wonderful.
School of Fish, Human Cannonball, released 23 February 1993. Another ‘how do you follow up a huge success’ second album that unfortunately did not sell nearly as much as their 1991 self-titled debut, but It really is a great album.
Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians, Respect, released 23 February 1993. I fell in love with his music in the mid 80s and while I may not have been able to keep up with his releases (partly due to being so damn broke most of the time), I did of course pick this one up, and “Driving Aloud (Radio Storm)” is one of my favorites of his.
Goo Goo Dolls, Superstar Car Wash, released 23 February 1993. While 1995’s A Boy Named Goo tends to be the record that turned them from critics’ faves to rock radio mainstays, I see this record as the one that put that particular sound in place. They sounded less like early Replacements and more like latter-era Replacements — tighter, better songwriting, and maybe even a radio hit or two.
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Next up: wrapping up one career and starting on another
Going back another decade to 1993 this time? Sure, why not? It’s an era of my past that I’ve kind of glossed over for varying and personal reasons, so maybe it’s time to take a look at some of the records that kept me going at the time.
To set the mood: it was my second and last semester of my senior year at Emerson, and I was exactly where I didn’t want or need to be at. I’d just moved out — more like ragequitted — the apartment I’d lived in for a year and change after having had enough of my then roommate. Moving back to the dorms, I realized I’d lost track of several of my college friends out of my own doing, and was now hanging with several kids younger than me and feeling left behind. My grades were still less than stellar, I had no real idea what my future would be, and the last thing I wanted to do was move back to my hometown.
So yeah, I was pretty much starting from rock bottom here.
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The Wedding Present, The Hit Parade 2, released 4 January 1993. In 1992 this British band chose to drop a single a month — an original on the A side and a cover on the reverse — and it was the covers (such as a desperate version of Julee Cruise’s “Falling” and a blistering “Pleasant Valley Sunday”) that caught my attention.
Belly, “Feed the Tree” single, released 11 January 1993. After leaving Throwing Muses, Tanya Donelly surfaced a short time later with her own band that was immediately loved by everyone in the Boston area. She’d always written the less abrasive Muses tracks but never quite got rid of the classic Muses quirkiness, and it shows here.
Stereo MCs, Connected, released 12 January 1993. “Connected” (the single) was everywhere at the time, both on alt-rock and dance stations alike. I used to play this on my show on WECB and cranked the song up loud every time. It’s a really fun dance record worth checking out.
Denis Leary, No Cure for Cancer, released 12 January 1993. I know, this is a comedy record and not alt-rock, but I put it here because a) he’s a fellow Emersonian and b) he’s also a kid from central Massachusetts like me. A lot of the humor here is definitely of its time — irreverent GenX ‘fuck it, let’s go there and a bit beyond because why the hell not’ humor that’s equally ironic, biting, and daring, but you always knew there was an unspoken level of not quite being mean-spirited.
The Tragically Hip, Fully Completely, released 19 January 1993. This was the record that introduced me to this band, and it’s a hell of a fine album. I played at least three or four tracks from this record on my WECB show at the time.
Elvis Costello & the Brodsky Quartet, The Juliet Letters, released 19 January 1993. You never quite knew what EC was going to do next back in the day, his styles changing wildly from album to album. This is probably the first classical album where I finally understood what modern orchestral music was about, and that it could work seamlessly in a semi-pop way.
The The, Dusk, released 26 January 1993. Matt Johnson always took his time between albums, often two or three years at a time, and while his previous record dropped just as I was starting college, this one was released just as I was ending it. While not as angry as 1989’s Mind Bomb, it’s just as tense. This one’s about inner pain, and it shows on many of its tracks.
Duran Duran, “Ordinary World” single, released 26 January 1993.Ooof. If there was any song that encapsulated where my mental and emotional state was at this time, this was pretty much it. My long-term/long-distance relationship with T finally at its end, my less than stellar school years limping to a close, my social connections in the crapper, and my future nowhere to be found, this song saved me from falling any deeper with its constant reminder to keep going.
Jesus Jones, Perverse, released 26 January 1993. Understandably this record didn’t quite reach the dizzying heights of 1991’s Doubt, and by the time of its release, the alt-rock universe had moved on to more organic grunge rock, but this remains one of the band’s best records in my eyes. It’s a much darker and denser record and features some of their best singles and deep cuts. I highly recommend it.
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…so yeah, not the most spirited of beginnings of what is supposed to be an important year, yeah? But even though I was lost, hurting and feeling rudderless, I knew I had to keep going. By this time I’d realized that I could still use what I’d learned at this college, but in different ways: my film degree helped me understand how to write and tell stories. My connections with college radio may not have gotten me into that business but it certainly helped me continue my long-lasting love for music, as well as my constant drive to find new things to listen to.
I knew I was starting at the bottom and there was no way to go but up…and I also knew I was going to fuck up a lot along the way (and believe me, I did several times)…and ultimately I was the only one who was going to make me do it.
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More to come: songs to keep me going, and an album that blew everything else out of the water!
For a year that was chock full of great and often influential albums, it kind of…ended with a thud. Granted, new and important albums were rarely ever released that late in Q4 (as I’ve mentioned many times), so it’s kind of expected. If I recall, the fall semester ended on perhaps not a high note but at least a better one than previous. I headed home for the Christmas break, not entirely happy that my grades still weren’t that great, and not being able to hang out with my high school gang all that much — everyone was home with family and we’d only be able to meet up maybe once or twice in the weeks we were in the same place. Instead of doing any New Year’s Eve partying, I chose to stick at home listening to the end of year countdown on WMDK. I didn’t even have a year-end mixtape this time out.
What was my mood then? I seem to remember being irritable. In retrospect, I’m sure it was set off by multiple things: being stuck at home in the small town again, out of touch with both my college friends and the Misfits gang, hardly any money in my pocket, and quite possibly some rocky moments going on with my relationship with T. There was definitely a sense of I don’t know what I want, but I know I don’t want THIS that I had no answer for.
Well, at least it was a new year coming up.
The Neighborhoods, Hoodwinked, released 1 December 1990. A classic local band known for being sort of like Boston’s answer to The Replacements, their boozy guitar driven rockers were always favorites with the locals. The title song got significant airplay on pretty much all the Boston rock stations.
Echo & the Bunnymen, Reverberation, released 1 December 1990. After longtime vocalist Ian McCulloch left the band to start a solo career, the rest of the band soldiered on with a new singer. Alas, the new sound fell flat with the loyal fanbase and the bored critics. That’s not to say it’s a bad album per se…they just updated their sound to fit the groovy Britpop sound a bit and there’s some great singles here worth listening to.
Danielle Dax, Blast the Human Flower, released 8 December 1990. Dax’s last album to date also came and went, her longtime fans being frustrated by its glossy sheen and insertion of dance beats on some of its songs. It just wasn’t…weird enough, I guess? Although her cover of The Beatles’ “Tomorrow Never Knows” (perhaps riding Candy Flip’s coattails) is worth the price. She’d pretty much disappear from the music scene after this record.
Soho, Goddess, released 8 December 1990. Known for that song that samples “How Soon Is Now” (with the blessing of Johnny Marr at that), this British dance-soul duo may not have translated well on American shores, but “Hippychick” certainly got stuck in everyone’s head for a few months there.
Enigma, MCMXC AD, released 10 December 1990. You could possibly pinpoint the start of the 90s’ emergence of new-agey world-music-as-pop with this one album. The big single “Sadeness” mixes Gregorian chants with dance beats and soothing synths, kicking off so many other bands, produces and DJ collectives putting out similar grooves.
Think Tree, eight/thirteen, released 30 December 1990. After nearly a year after dropping the weird yet exciting “Hire a Bird” single, this strange Boston quintet dropped a mini-album of some of their best songs they’d honed live. It sold incredibly well locally, even despite the long wait. Alas it would take them considerably longer to record and release a follow-up and by that time, their local fame had passed.
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Looking back at 1990, that year, like most beginnings of decades, was one of transition. I remember my history teacher, Reverend Coffee, telling us that important changes in history usually don’t take place at its start but actually a few years in. I thought this was kind of an interesting way to look at it: after all, calendar time is just an arbitrary number to keep things somewhat in order, right? So maybe it wasn’t 1990 that was going to be a huge change, but maybe in the next year or so. Maybe we’d get past this sense of ‘waiting for things to be over with’ and start something new.
At least that’s what I was hoping for when I returned back to college in January. Fingers crossed.
Walk In Silence 