HEY DUDE, WHERE'S MY ANGST?
“Remember when is the lowest form of communication” – Tony Soprano
For a long time, I found the above quote from the head of Barone Sanitation to be pretty spot on. But as my writing docket fills up with more obscure bands from the 90s and I comb YouTube to give Honeywell or Carbomb another chance, it’s pretty obvious I got myself caught up in some twisted form of nostalgia.
It’s twisted because I know it was not an easier, simpler, or better time of my life. I was a malleable, awkward dingdong back then. At least in the present day, I’m aloof enough not to care if anyone cares, you know? I’m not going to pretend to wanna engage with anyone about an all-day punk festival consisting of 5000 bands over 80 years of age or the hot new releases by Skin Lord, MC Toe Fungus and his Fall Foliage, and Everyday I Die On The Slab. These days I am what I am and if the soundtrack for a post-dinner puff on the deck links together the angsty youngsters of yesterday and today, what’s the big deal? I’ve listened to enough stuff while high that sounds like a malfunctioning air conditioner.
Below is a playlist I put together courtesy of those infant punchers over at Spotify. Maybe you’ll get through it. Maybe you’ll turn it off to listen to the leaked outtakes from the new Skin Lord album, The Spatoon of Despair. Either way, I’m content in the solipsistic seizure of my psyche, but let’s see how I feel next week…