Mistakes of youth
Firstly, just to note: it is cold. My feet are cold. I am sat huddled over my laptop with a rug over my lap, desperately trying to convince the cat to come and lie on me so I can steal his warmth. This is not the Carrie Bradshaw lifestyle I had imagined. I should be wearing nothing but a pair of men's underpants, manolos and a pensive frown - not a vest, two jumpers, bed socks and slippers (amongst other things of course - I'm not a crazy semi-naked cold person).
Album of the day on 6 Music today has been Pearl Jam's Best of Album. I might as well just come out and confess, but hear me out till the end before you abandon this blog altogether: I love Pearl Jam. There's no denying it. For years I tried to hide this huge error of my past. I was aware that liking PJ would not earn me the respect of fellow music fans and so I tried to delete it from my past and carry on with my life. But they wouldn’t go away. And over the past couple of years, I’ve come out to friends who didn’t know me when I wore a leather jacket and an armful of friendship bracelets. Some have mocked, some have agreed that they too like PJ, others have confessed the terrible secrets of their teenage kicks.
It’s only in recent months that I’ve decided it’s time to stop feeling ashamed. You can mock me, tell me time and time again that they were crap, naff, grumpy, unoriginal – whatever you fancy – but I just cannot hear it. All ability to listen with a critical ear has left me when it comes to that band. Why? Because when I was 14 they were the most important band in the world to me. I still shiver with excitement when I hear the beauteous Eddie Vedder’s deep voice, still know every yip, whoop and angst-ridden yeah, still harbour a secret desire to see them in concert and buy the new albums (I stopped at No Code). Still love the songs.
So, you can mock me all you like, and despise me for being a 14 year old unable to pick a truly great band as her defining musical influence, but I’m not going to shit on my memories any more. If I’d known then that in 10 years I’d be back-tracking and denying all knowledge and pretending I didn’t really spend hours in my room listening to the albums, watching Singles, staring at the posters, I’d be appalled. I’d despise me. And I can’t betray the younger me any more.
Because she’s much harder than me. And would kick my in the head with her DMs.
So fess up. What’s the shameful secret of your musical past that you still can’t bring yourself to hate? I promise not to tell. (Also, this girl is fantastic – she knits, she listens to Pearl Jam, she talks about herself in the third person, she's called her blog Purl Jam.)
Album of the day on 6 Music today has been Pearl Jam's Best of Album. I might as well just come out and confess, but hear me out till the end before you abandon this blog altogether: I love Pearl Jam. There's no denying it. For years I tried to hide this huge error of my past. I was aware that liking PJ would not earn me the respect of fellow music fans and so I tried to delete it from my past and carry on with my life. But they wouldn’t go away. And over the past couple of years, I’ve come out to friends who didn’t know me when I wore a leather jacket and an armful of friendship bracelets. Some have mocked, some have agreed that they too like PJ, others have confessed the terrible secrets of their teenage kicks.
It’s only in recent months that I’ve decided it’s time to stop feeling ashamed. You can mock me, tell me time and time again that they were crap, naff, grumpy, unoriginal – whatever you fancy – but I just cannot hear it. All ability to listen with a critical ear has left me when it comes to that band. Why? Because when I was 14 they were the most important band in the world to me. I still shiver with excitement when I hear the beauteous Eddie Vedder’s deep voice, still know every yip, whoop and angst-ridden yeah, still harbour a secret desire to see them in concert and buy the new albums (I stopped at No Code). Still love the songs.
So, you can mock me all you like, and despise me for being a 14 year old unable to pick a truly great band as her defining musical influence, but I’m not going to shit on my memories any more. If I’d known then that in 10 years I’d be back-tracking and denying all knowledge and pretending I didn’t really spend hours in my room listening to the albums, watching Singles, staring at the posters, I’d be appalled. I’d despise me. And I can’t betray the younger me any more.
Because she’s much harder than me. And would kick my in the head with her DMs.
So fess up. What’s the shameful secret of your musical past that you still can’t bring yourself to hate? I promise not to tell. (Also, this girl is fantastic – she knits, she listens to Pearl Jam, she talks about herself in the third person, she's called her blog Purl Jam.)
posted by Shinykatie at 6:21 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home