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Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts

...Ever have one of those days where you miss something so much, you wish you could turn back Time for it?


As I get older, I wax nostalgic for those more idyllic times. Now that I’m a productive member of the workforce, I am forced to hide my cool music references as people around me discuss sports statistics. Blankly I nod my head in agreement as they talk about overpaid athletes. Yeah, those athletes I’ve never heard of, in that sport I don’t follow in any way, shape or form are overpaid. 

Browsing my facebook, I know I’m not alone in this. Not all my friends work in office settings, some work as BestBuy returns specialists. That means that they are responsible for getting you your money back if you are not 100% satisfied with your purchase. Others work for their dad in various construction ventures. With all these differences in pay, social interaction, and environment they all share one thing in common:


            They miss college.


Oh, the days spent on the green in front of the Stalinist architecture that was the library. Days seemed to go on forever, with interactions with your social peers occurring on a fairly regular basis. Everybody knew what reference that was, you didn’t seem weird. I mean, who didn’t memorize every line from Woody Allen’s movies in the 70s? 

Life is hard. College was easy. You’re uncomfortable being the youngest person in your workplace. People there tell you about how their children or grandchildren are your age. Sometimes they’ll even talk about how well you two would get along. They think out loud about how they should hook you up with them and as you grow nervous, they’ll laugh it off. Instead of admitting that they were making you uncomfortable unintentionally, they’ll say it was deliberate. But then to completely throw you off your game they’ll take about how their children aren’t dating people ‘as good as’ you. So you’re stuck.

Yes, relationships at work are virtually impossible. No matter where you work, those areas have been fully sterilized. There’s no passion, no raw love allowed on those premises. You miss the days where you’d go into a large pile of people and wriggle around, since you were a very strange person. At your job, people don’t do that. In fact, for most of your adult life (excluding a select few) you’ll never encounter that joy again.

Being a twenty-something is unfortunate. This is the period that is foretold to be awesome, but really you get treated like an awkward kid. Instead, you’re just kind of missing out on the fun of being in college while not treated with any sort of respect you’d get being a tad bit older. Don’t worry though, as soon as you hit thirty, immediately you’re considered to be ‘serious’ with all the responsibilities that entails. Oddly enough those are the exact responsibilities you had in your twenties, only now you’re acknowledged for them. So what can you do in the meantime, the in-between time?







Can you simply wear a revealing one piece bathing suit as you walk around the battleship the USS Missouri? I think that’s been done, by none other than the immensely talented Cher. 

Walking around the battleship to adoring sailors, she sings about “If I could turn back Time” harking back to better times. “Words are like weapons they wound sometimes” she belts out as the battleship begins attacking an enemy Soviet sub. Russian planes try to bomb the battleship in a failed attempt to stop her singing, but these colors don’t run. Those Russian planes are downed thanks to the support Cher’s voice gives to the anti-aircraft missiles.

Never fret then. By watching this video, it feels like you are turning back Time. You can feel the rush of being in college, of working at your local radio station and ensuring all copies of this song were promptly destroyed, of hanging out in piles of people. Well, I’m glad to allow those memories to flood to you again. If only I could turn back time.

Worried About Interpol (Fin)


Those of you paying attention may remember my worry about Interpol.  I wondered whether or not they could withstand any further criticism or shrivel and die. Upon reading the reviews online, I have my answer from all sources.

B. Their slow certain march to oblivion continues.
C. Whoa, this is dreadful. No longer can they show their faces in public, they hide in a basement and discuss what life is like after sucking (get help from the Strokes to deal with Post-Cool)
Sadly, it looks like a little from column B and a little from column C.  Pitchfork gave a vicious, brutal review, stating that they sounded burned out and unsure of themselves. They mentioned the latter half of the album being a colossal wreck with little redeeming, and said even the beginning wasn’t very good.

Tiny Mix Tapes, though it gave a similar score, still stated it was better than Our Love to Admire. So they gave it an actual upgrade, stating that this was an improvement but they need to try harder.

Other reviews seem to be forthcoming, possibly waiting to fully absorb the music into its skin.

From what’s out there, it sounds as if Interpol missed its mark. Maybe mope rock just doesn’t have the same staying power it did several years ago. Now we’ve moved onto newer, more nostalgic genres. These genres that we’re told are cool and make us look “with it”. I’m talking about buzz, fuzz, chill, low fidelity, etc. All of those terms just mentioned add points onto your score, not the boring ones like Arena Rock, Indie, Post-Rock, etc. Any references to those latter words automatically force the band to try that much harder to overcome the burnt out feeling so many have towards them.
For what it is worth, Pitchfork did many hatchet jobs that day, also panning a Blonde Redhead album. After a heady summer of promoting summer bands, they realize that a clean break with the past is needed. So those bands they previously fawned over get lower ratings than they would have otherwise. Even keeping in mind that realistically not all of those bands will continue churning out endlessly good products (duds happen) it seems like Pitchfork does tend to cut itself loose as soon as a popular buzzword begins attracting too much scorn and derision among the cool kids.

Pity.