THE 1990s

When confronted with 90s revivalism as “something-that’s-going-on” in music (in the form of winkingly sloppy indie bands making lo-fi records on their $3K laptops) – it makes me feel totally bored. Occasionally, I imagine it as a stylistic bent that I should be applying to my own work, since I’m a genuine article youth-of-the-1990s; I was there, I saw the fires, I wrote it down in a just-so composition notebook. However, the very thought of atonal octave guitars makes my stomach turn, and ultimately embracing that attitude gives me a momentary warm glow of condescension and feeling a little superior. Looking through that prism - this inability to couch my past in rose-tinted anecdotes of how awesome it was to hear Diary or Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain for the first time - stems from the fact that I emerged from the 1990s primarily feeling duped and thinking this thought: boy, we blew it.