Time Crush

As a proclaimed megafan of all things 90s rock bands from formation until now (yes, their shit is still legit people!). Sorry, a pet peeve of mine is when people say things like, “Really - is Pearl Jam still around?” Or, “Oh yeah, I remember the Foo Fighters from their Mentos music video.” Sigh. I digress… 

For the hardcore fan that I am, I came into this concert game late, for a few reasons. One being that I was stuck in a cult-like mentality that my music and expression was wrong based on attending a life-consuming church group that almost obliterated my personality traits. More on that in a post to come. But, it was mainly because life was in the way and I simply wasn’t aware of the music community that existed. I was also broke AF for a long period of time with little to no disposable income (concert tickets are expensive, y'all). Once again, I digress…

Because of time lost, once this true love returned and rekindled, I overindulged and became insanely fascinated by the music scene from back in the day, specifically the “grunge scene.” Its pure, organic and humble beginnings, its cross-breeding of bands to form the craziest concoctions of the most talented of musicians, its grassroots guerrilla-style marketing system, its self-madeness, its overall lack of corporate ownership…I could go on. But, of course at the helm was The Fuckin Music! Oh, the glorious melody mix of grit, consciousness, rebellion and poetry.

Watching and re-watching grainy youtube videos of Pink Pop and Lollapalooza 1992 or rewinding the Soundgarden scene of the movie Singles brings me a painful sense of nostalgia, false as it may be. 

I WISH I could have lived it, but in reality I would have been 11 years old and doubt my overbearing, strict evangelical household would have approved. Again, I’ll save that for another blog post. 

But, the longing to have been part of such a time in music’s memory pains me. I can only compare it to an unattainable crush of youth. Remember wanting someone so bad, your actual physical core ached because you knew the connection would never happen? Whether it be due to distance, age, because they were famous (queue Growing Pains Kirk Cameron and the Karate Kid - he-llo Ralph Macchio!), or maybe because they liked skinny girls and you have always been blessed with an abundance of layering. Whatever the case, it hurt, right? And it was a crushing pain.

But, I’m an adult and can obviously handle the reality that time travel is not a real concept…yet. Honestly, who knows what that crazy Bill Gates has up his sleeve. Again, another digression...

But now, I feel another very real pit-in-the-gut sense of longing, one I can only compare to a held-back cry.

I’ve built this very personal version of my own concert life - my fun, my therapy, my hobby - which includes the bands I’ve always loved and almost lost, apart from the ones I’ve actually lost (RIP Chris Cornell & Dolores O’Riordan; Kurt Cobain too but he died way before he was even an option for me). 

Now it’s gone and I’m crushed once again. You see, the main bands I love, well they are older now and so am I, so there is an appreciation level there that youth could not understand. But, I do. I miss it. But more than that, I need it. 

This yearning is heightened with each concert that gets canceled or moved to year from now. And, as the world looks worse and my faith wrestles fear and confusion, I need my live music. It feels so far. The skin of my soul is sore and chaffed and it wont be long until its cuts bleed. I need its soothing. 

I know I will find it once again, but for now what I want, what I'm crushing on is not a fantasy life. It’s my own.