Confessions of a Fanboy

I woke up with two goals for today:  get some work done at the office and watch/listen to the Guyville Redux DVD that accompanies the 15^th anniversary edition of Liz Phair’s Exile in Guyville, a set I bought this week.  Before I could do that, I found myself humming “Hannah & Gabi” by The Lemonheads (from It’s A Shame About Ray) and a theme to an endless ’90s bummer was unearthed.

I knew this was coming, having obsessively listened to Poe’s Hello and Haunted as well as unearthing Pulp’s This is Hardcore.  I was about to immerse myself in the sounds of a time that took forever to pass too quickly.

The Guyville DVD - a characteristically lo-fi documentary/remembrance of the album - really impacted me.  The part that got me the most was Phair talking about how she felt when she finally listened to the album again for the first time in nearly 10 years.  She said the album left her on the verge of tears because she was far enough removed from those days that she could hear the sadness of the person she was when she wrote/sang those songs.  It really struck a chord with me.  That moment on the DVD mixed with the disillusionment I hear in “Hannah & Gabi” just got all over me today.

Disillusionment is a good word; it’s the word I’ve been looking forward to since Thursday when M.Sahm and I were discussing Nine Inch Nails.  Some people connect with the pure rage that surges through those early NIN records.  I never did.  The darker places in my head and heart - and we all have them - was just never that pissed off.  I’m not saying I never got angry- I just wasn’t that angry, or angry in that way.

Disillusionment is a good word.  Like Phair, I’m far enough removed from my former self that I think I’ve gained a little insight on who that person was.  I looked around and saw a lot of people who seemed to be having a lot more fun than I was.  I’d hear adults say that high school was the best time of their lives, or that college was.  I was sitting around waiting for the best time of my life to start and it never seemed to happen.

I was paralyzed by the fear that my moment was never going to come.  I think I recognized that I had a role in that, but was completely unable to unsure of what that was or how to do anything about it.  I didn’t feel like a victim but I did feel powerless.  The things I wanted - or thought I wanted - I just didn’t know how to get them or make them or find them, so I did nothing and watched it all drag by and slip away.

Exile In Guyville and It’s A Shame About Ray may not be specifically about those things.  Evan Dando and Liz Phair might be horrified knowing that’s what I’ve taken from the records, but that’s where I am today.  I hear the sounds of impossible possibilities and I see an unusual, awkward kid swallowed up by them.

What’s funny about all of this is that I never heard Guyville or Ray until well after I graduated college, got married, and settled into the next phase of my life (whatever you call it).  I think these records would have exploded my head if I’d had them at the time.  They do now.

Filed under: Tags: Citzen Dick, Nine Inch Nails