Good lord, this show brings up so much nostalgia. I saw Reverend Horton Heat open for Smashing Pumpkins (and the middle band was Blind Melon!) in 1994 (I think) in Austin at an outdoor venue called Southpark Meadows. That place was just a huge open field at (what was then) the edge of town. It's now a giant shopping center—5 million square feet, according to Google.
Anyways . . .keep it up, fellas. I'm enjoying this look at my early CD-collecting years, when I was around 12 and trying to be a little mini adult with my very own tastes. It feels like kids do a version of that these days, but physical media gave it a concrete reality that was exciting, especially when CDs were still new and seemed to be the greatest invention ever and each new one was a little building block to add to one's identity.
I think the key innovations of CD technology (aside from the sound and replicability) were the skip button and the longer length (no more need for "sides"), but tapes were still necessary for most cars at this point . . . . I wasn't cool/old enough for 7"s yet—that came in the mid 90s—and I still had to be driven to the record store (or dropped off at the mall). Later, I started riding my bike to indie stores, and even later I would drive to stores and spend many late nights (until 10 or even midnight) flipping through CD and record bins. Of course, stores were open late then in those pre-internet years when you had to leave the house to find new music.
It wasn't necessarily better, but I'm glad I had all those experiences, and it feels like part of what people are reaching for with all this 90s nostalgia is the feeling that one's own identity could be built one t-shirt or CD at a time. That was helpful, in a way, to a kid like me who felt lost and alienated and had a desperate need to define himself.
Good lord, this show brings up so much nostalgia. I saw Reverend Horton Heat open for Smashing Pumpkins (and the middle band was Blind Melon!) in 1994 (I think) in Austin at an outdoor venue called Southpark Meadows. That place was just a huge open field at (what was then) the edge of town. It's now a giant shopping center—5 million square feet, according to Google.
Anyways . . .keep it up, fellas. I'm enjoying this look at my early CD-collecting years, when I was around 12 and trying to be a little mini adult with my very own tastes. It feels like kids do a version of that these days, but physical media gave it a concrete reality that was exciting, especially when CDs were still new and seemed to be the greatest invention ever and each new one was a little building block to add to one's identity.
I think the key innovations of CD technology (aside from the sound and replicability) were the skip button and the longer length (no more need for "sides"), but tapes were still necessary for most cars at this point . . . . I wasn't cool/old enough for 7"s yet—that came in the mid 90s—and I still had to be driven to the record store (or dropped off at the mall). Later, I started riding my bike to indie stores, and even later I would drive to stores and spend many late nights (until 10 or even midnight) flipping through CD and record bins. Of course, stores were open late then in those pre-internet years when you had to leave the house to find new music.
It wasn't necessarily better, but I'm glad I had all those experiences, and it feels like part of what people are reaching for with all this 90s nostalgia is the feeling that one's own identity could be built one t-shirt or CD at a time. That was helpful, in a way, to a kid like me who felt lost and alienated and had a desperate need to define himself.