Sunday, April 24, 2011

Sunday Morning is Every Day For All I Care, and I'm Not Scared

April 24th 2011:

Easter is a holiday for children and religious folks... as I am neither (and have no children, unless you count the wolves), I celebrated the holiday with an "Iron Range" breakfast - eggs, toast, tater tots and a can of Hamm's - at Zayda Buddies, then the old gang reunited for a trip to EMP for the Nirvana exhibit.

It is an odd feeling, seeing a large part of your teen years on display in glass cases, relics from a time that is no more. It felt kind of like having my childhood slaughtered, and its bloody pieces spread out for everyone's viewing pleasure.

Okay, maybe that is a little over-dramatic, but you get the point. It was a painful sort of nostalgia, seeing all those Nirvana relics behind their plexi-glass windows. Not that Nirvana, as much as I loved them, was the end-all-be-all of 90's rock bands, but more remembering that there was a time when "alternative" music thrived, and local scenes thrived, and people went to shows because it was fun and they were friends (actual friends, I mean, not the awkward hipster "do you have anything I need or want right now? No? I gotta jet" sort of friends), and the majority of indie/underground bands weren't trying to write music that would play well to a car or cell phone ad (I mean, come on, the thought of selling a song for a commercial was sacrilegious back in the day).

But, sigh, things change... I do hope that there is a future generation of kids out there buying guitars and playing rock music because it is rebellious and meaningful and beautiful, not because it could get them an energy drink sponsorship, a slot on Warped Tour and 15 minutes of fame.

That's not too much to hope for, is it?

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