(rock the fuck out)

every so often it feels real good to rock out 1995 style. you know, like, family got their first cd-player boombox and someone gave you your 3rd cd for your birthday. (#1 was the beatles, “help,” #2 was no doubt’s “tragic kingdom” and #3 was, well… the barenaked ladies)

the first time i ever heard the barenaked ladies i was in traffic with my babysitter Amanda, we were in traffic on the beltway, headed to my best friend forever Becca’s house. (Amanda graduated from either George Mason or Mary Washington with a BA in architecture, went on to move to Australia to marry an Australian man, then get divorced and move back to McLean, Virginia– my mom ran into her at Safeway a few years ag0) it was 1995 and I was suuuuuper scandalized by the band name. this was probably during the same week that Amanda explained periods to me.

in 1995 bands took photos that looked like this

Becca and I loved “BNL” – as we called them, to avoid the embarrassment of saying ‘naked’ – we’d totally rock out to the whole “Stunt” album. We wanted to start a band. I thought of Becca yesterday when “Old Apartment” shuffled onto my ipod at the mixing bowl of the 10W and the 110N. what an awful intersection.

somehow, even though i know that the cars are all close and we all have our windows down and  i sing/listen to music really loudly – but somehow i feel like no one can hear me. when i was back home in DC last weekend i was quite self-conscious about my singing habits. not so much in la. it felt REAL good to rock out all those years of adolescence and heartbreak and apartment hunting and all that other stuff.

side note: this is the first time in all the years that i’ve been listening to “the old apartment” that i actually have an old apartment!

is it just me, or does the dumped dude on the double-decker bus look sort of like jeff buckley?

i guess all guys looked the same in 1995.

Advertisement