Tales From My iPod, Part 6 (Now With Video!)

A while back, before all this shit with work started, I had read Rob Sheffield’s heart wrenching memoir LOVE IS A MIX TAPE and found myself enjoying it for a variety of different reasons.

For starters, reading Sheffield’s book of love, life, and loss was like looking back into my own past, except I’d never experienced a tragedy anywhere near the likes of his. But if you wanted to talk about self-proclaimed shy guys who wooed their way into women’s hearts by music, then it was a spot on look at music geeks who came of age in the Boston area. Hell, I’d grown up listening to some of the radio stations Sheffield mentions. And as his musical tastes expanded with age, so did mine, although in completely different circles. For anybody who saw themselves flirting via music like John Cusak’s character in HIGH FIDELITY, the book spoke a funny and uncomfortably honest truth about lonely music geeks. Sometimes they might get the girl with a hefty does of Alex Chilton and Big Star, but sometimes they may have to pay a heartbreaking price. Music can heal, but it can also hurt. Sheffield was wise not to downplay this important fact while writing the book. And for that, I commend him.

One area where we seemed to diverge paths on, though, was the opinion that the 1990s was the Golden Era for independent music. Surely, thanks to bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam, bar bands from the fringe of the music business were given a better shot at grabbing the brass ring at the time, but the truth of the matter is that there’s always been garage bands crossing over into the pop world when it comes to rock and roll. For every Nirvana, there’s at least a dozen Question Mark And The Mysterians that faded into obscurity. And, contrary to popular belief, the indie world didn’t grind to a halt when Kurt Cobain put that shotgun to his head in 1994. Sure, the big record companies may have shut down a lot of their “indie” subsidiaries over the next few years, but a lot of the band affected had already burned out at that point and were quite happy to call it quits and return to the clubs. Only then did bubble gum princesses and reality television stars get a stranglehold on the record industry, and there days in power are questionable at this point as the record companies slowly disintegrate from shoddy product and overwhelming ambivalence towards the music itself. Mark my words. In five years time, music artists as true independents will rule the music biz as they start to handle their own careers from top to bottom. Everything from recording to distribution will be handled by the musicians themselves, thereby leaving them to circumvent the whole industry. They may not sell the big numbers like they used to, but they’ll be able to get the music out there to their fans better than the record companies used to. Just wait and see.

Which is fine with me. The bands I always cared for were the one shot wonders anyway. When Nirvana’s NEVERMIND came out, I thought it was pretty awful stuff. It wasn’t until IN UTERO that I jumped onto the Nirvana bandwagon, mostly because Dave Grohl and Krist Novoselic’s fantastic rhythm section. Cobain was just an angst ridden afterthought to me. Another blue-collar guy who made himself miserable for the sake of his art. Great lyricist? Sure. Great guitarist? I’ll even give you that. But great human being? I’m not so sure about that. He was far from being the saint people are making him out to be these days and I view his suicide as a complete waste. IN UTERO was a brilliant album, despite the fact that it was constructed to rile Nirvana’s own fan base. Cobain could’ve taken a breather after that one and could’ve come back five years later just as vicious and scathing as ever. Instead, he chose to let the muse in him run wild. if he wanted to fuck over his fans, he did a pretty good job in my eyes.

No, for me the scene in the 1990s wasn’t bands like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, or the Smashing Pumpkins. It was more regional in nature. For the longest time, I was in love with a band called Gringo out of Chicago, who managed to successfully mix the styles of Hank Williams and X into an explosive set of pure cowpunk. There isn’t a single bad cut on their self-titled 1995 debut. One year later, guitarist Jim (no last name ever given) and bassist Leila Vartanian (now known as “Layla”) would ditch drummer Tim Krause and relocate to Nashville and record one bluegrass album, COMBINE. From there, they disappeared. Layla eventually resurfaced as the owner of an infamous Lower Broadway club, Layla’s Bluegrass Inn, and a Chicago style hot dog stand, Hot Diggity Dogs. Jim, on the other hand, faded into the sunset like some old Western myth. They did two great albums, and then they were done. So much for fame and fortune in the 1990s.

Also in heavy rotation on my iPod is Scarce, made up of guitarist/vocalist Chick Graining, bassist/vocalist/artist Joyce Raskin, and drummer Joe Propatier. In 1995, they were on the verge of releasing their debut album, DEADSEXY, when Chick didn’t show up for rehearsal one day. Raskin and Propatier broke down his apartment door and found Graining unconscious and unresponsive. Suffering from a severe brain aneurysm, the doctors only gave him a ten percent chance of survival. Chick licked it in three months, though, and then went on the road with the band. But by then, the experience had really changed his outlook on life. Plus he couldn’t quite get a handle on the chemistry between him and Joyce, which had always been sexually charged on stage. The band broke up before all the good reviews started pouring in. Chick went solo and Joyce channeled her disappointment into ACHING TO BE, a heartbreaking memoir about her time with the band. Now, ten years later, they’re back on the road and in the studio, true survivors of that time.

I do agree with Sheffield, though, that the 1990s where a great time in rock for women. I loved P.J. Harvey, Tanya Donnelly, and Liz Phair all equally. And it was an amazing time for hot chick bassists. You had Raskin and Vartanian along with Melissa Auf der Maur (Hole, Smashing Pumpkins), Lisa Umbarger (Toadies), and Gail Greenwood (L7 and Belly) just to name a few. They were sexy, tough, and could actually play their instruments and sing live. These days we have the likes of Lindsay, Britney, and Jessica who have all they can do to think and lip-sync at the same time. The current state of the music biz has not been kind to women at all. And ladies, if I were you, I’d be bitching about it.

So I guess what I’m saying is this: while Sheffield and I don’t exactly see eye to eye on the actual music of the 1990s, we realize what an important time it was for the industry. There was no norm, no status quo. Styles were mixed and expectations shaken up. It was probably just a hair shy of an industry revolution, but enough fuss was made that it will effect what happens in the next few years or so. Mix tapes will be obsolete and there will be more tragedies along the way, but there will still be enough of us music geeks out there to be able to communicate through music alone. Hell, I didn’t think the 1990s were anything to write home about until I read Sheffield’s book, and now look at me, talking about the 90s like they were the 60s. As long as there are true fans of music, music will remain as important as it ever was in culture. All we have to do is demand more substance from our artists and they will provide. It’s as simple as that.

Now, if you fine people don’t mind, I’m going to go into the garage and find those boxes of mix tapes people sent me throughout the 1990s. I suddenly have an urge to figure out why Misty once sent me a tape that kicked off with Matchbox 20s “Push”…

Layla Vartanian, formerly of the band Gringo, lays down the mustard at Hot Diggity Dogs.

Scarce’s “All Sideways” video, with introduction by the ever suave Matt Pinfield.