It Wasn't My Design
In preparation for my 1990's-themed party coming up in three months, I've been doing a lot of research on and purchasing a lot of music from that decade. Amazon.com has been a huge help with this because after shipping, I'm basically paying only $3 for a CD. Then I'm able to make money back when I trade it in at Zia Records or Hoodlum's. I'm focusing on albums that had more than one single, then by the end I'll start purchasing one-off singles (remember "Tubthumper" by Chumbawumba?) on iTunes for a dollar each.
I've been thinking lately about the sheer volume of music I have on my computer. 23 gigs, or 15 days, and I'm buying more all the time. I'm justifying this currently with my party, but I have to admit that it's getting harder and harder to be impressed with new music I haven't heard. I have a rule: listen to the entire album at least once, even if you bought it for one or two songs. Spending so much time driving gives me that opportunity to listen to stuff I wouldn't normally think of hearing again, so that's good. But perhaps it's also numbing my brain, and moments of pop or rock brilliance are getting lost on me now. I imagine that this must be what A&R reps and record store geeks (*wink wink Jason*) go through.
When I was in Texas back in August for the Davidsons' wedding, I got a chance to meet up with Jerry Morrison, bass player for Bleach. We caught up on a few things, but mostly discussed music. I think he's about 30 by now, and he had this to say: "I'm old enough now that I still enjoy finding out about new music, but I prefer the music I listened to when I was younger." I think I'm starting to notice this same effect.
I still remember from when I was a kid, my dad played Metallica's black album in the car anytime it was just him, my brother, and myself (no ladies). I remember getting excited when I first heard the opening riff for "Brain of J.", the first track from Pearl Jam's Yield, in March 1998. Sweating it out in a packed-out room at Emo's in Austin, Texas, when Further Seems Forever played in August 2002. Taping the lyrics to Thrice's "The Melting Point of Wax" and Beloved's "Death To Traitors" on my dorm room door in the fall of 2003, as my school life fell apart because I knew I was going to get kicked out of ASU from lack of funds. In the three days that I dated Stephanie Jones before she left for the summer in 2005, feeling euphoric as I listened to Cave In's "Tides of Tomorrow" while driving up to her house for a day together. Practicing Botch's "Transitions From Persona To Object" with Matt Williams and Stephen Butler in September 2006 for the Campus Crusade fall retreat talent show. Say Anything's "...Is A Real Boy" felt like the soundtrack to my life in the spring of 2007. Walking along a pier in cold, rainy Seattle in January 2008 while listening to Isis' Oceanic.
These moments, and many others, were either caused by or enhanced by music and will remain with me forever. I'm grateful for that. I just want to make sure that I leave my mind and my heart open for more of these experiences to happen.
I've been thinking lately about the sheer volume of music I have on my computer. 23 gigs, or 15 days, and I'm buying more all the time. I'm justifying this currently with my party, but I have to admit that it's getting harder and harder to be impressed with new music I haven't heard. I have a rule: listen to the entire album at least once, even if you bought it for one or two songs. Spending so much time driving gives me that opportunity to listen to stuff I wouldn't normally think of hearing again, so that's good. But perhaps it's also numbing my brain, and moments of pop or rock brilliance are getting lost on me now. I imagine that this must be what A&R reps and record store geeks (*wink wink Jason*) go through.
When I was in Texas back in August for the Davidsons' wedding, I got a chance to meet up with Jerry Morrison, bass player for Bleach. We caught up on a few things, but mostly discussed music. I think he's about 30 by now, and he had this to say: "I'm old enough now that I still enjoy finding out about new music, but I prefer the music I listened to when I was younger." I think I'm starting to notice this same effect.
I still remember from when I was a kid, my dad played Metallica's black album in the car anytime it was just him, my brother, and myself (no ladies). I remember getting excited when I first heard the opening riff for "Brain of J.", the first track from Pearl Jam's Yield, in March 1998. Sweating it out in a packed-out room at Emo's in Austin, Texas, when Further Seems Forever played in August 2002. Taping the lyrics to Thrice's "The Melting Point of Wax" and Beloved's "Death To Traitors" on my dorm room door in the fall of 2003, as my school life fell apart because I knew I was going to get kicked out of ASU from lack of funds. In the three days that I dated Stephanie Jones before she left for the summer in 2005, feeling euphoric as I listened to Cave In's "Tides of Tomorrow" while driving up to her house for a day together. Practicing Botch's "Transitions From Persona To Object" with Matt Williams and Stephen Butler in September 2006 for the Campus Crusade fall retreat talent show. Say Anything's "...Is A Real Boy" felt like the soundtrack to my life in the spring of 2007. Walking along a pier in cold, rainy Seattle in January 2008 while listening to Isis' Oceanic.
These moments, and many others, were either caused by or enhanced by music and will remain with me forever. I'm grateful for that. I just want to make sure that I leave my mind and my heart open for more of these experiences to happen.