One that I wish came from the Wayback Machine, 2005 version:
Man, I friggin' heart XM radio! Specifically, I heart Lucy because she keeps me in all 90s alternative, all the time.
I'm turning thirty in April, one of those gasp-inducing birthdays that has me examining my skin every night and using the anti-wrinkle cream and sneering at the Jonah Brothers for being too pretty, too packaged and too friggin' young. "They don't know what real music even sounds like!" I rail at the husband, because he's just about the only person who I rail at these days. "Damn whippersnappers!"
He would agree and then we'd go back into the archives of our iPods, listening to another Pearl Jam bootleg and wishing it was still 1995.
And then we discovered Lucy. Like I said, I completely heart her.
Lucy keeps me awash in the music I was listening to when I first moved up here and discovered radio beyond the two-honky-tonk-station town I had grown up here. Lucy is The Edge, when The Edge was 107.9 FM. Lucy is the soundtrack of my college years, when I lived in a tiny dorm room and caught up on the music of the first Clinton administration. Man. Lucy is that mirror into who I was when turning 30 was waaaaaaaaay down the road, when the world was my oyster and possibilities were endless.
(It's quite possible that that Sarah would be dismayed to meet me, but that's her problem.)
Lucy is also the answer to the question the husband posed to me a few weeks ago, before we knew of Lucy's existence, which was "So, when we're old and Nirvana's been classified as ancient history and is played only on oldies radio, are we going to listen to that station incessantly?"
Well, yeah.
Lucy, you rock.
Man, I friggin' heart XM radio! Specifically, I heart Lucy because she keeps me in all 90s alternative, all the time.
I'm turning thirty in April, one of those gasp-inducing birthdays that has me examining my skin every night and using the anti-wrinkle cream and sneering at the Jonah Brothers for being too pretty, too packaged and too friggin' young. "They don't know what real music even sounds like!" I rail at the husband, because he's just about the only person who I rail at these days. "Damn whippersnappers!"
He would agree and then we'd go back into the archives of our iPods, listening to another Pearl Jam bootleg and wishing it was still 1995.
And then we discovered Lucy. Like I said, I completely heart her.
Lucy keeps me awash in the music I was listening to when I first moved up here and discovered radio beyond the two-honky-tonk-station town I had grown up here. Lucy is The Edge, when The Edge was 107.9 FM. Lucy is the soundtrack of my college years, when I lived in a tiny dorm room and caught up on the music of the first Clinton administration. Man. Lucy is that mirror into who I was when turning 30 was waaaaaaaaay down the road, when the world was my oyster and possibilities were endless.
(It's quite possible that that Sarah would be dismayed to meet me, but that's her problem.)
Lucy is also the answer to the question the husband posed to me a few weeks ago, before we knew of Lucy's existence, which was "So, when we're old and Nirvana's been classified as ancient history and is played only on oldies radio, are we going to listen to that station incessantly?"
Well, yeah.
Lucy, you rock.
2 Comments:
Heh. I guess I'm still working too hard to listen to current music to be overly nostalgic about 90's rock, but I do appreciate that the Alternative Gold format has taken off. It's a nice option to have.
~Chris
I was never good at keeping current.
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