Anything For a Buck . . .

I have an impulse control problem. This manifests in many ways, but I feel the most interesting way is my willingness to buy just about anything “for the right price." The thing is usually a CD, and the price is usually a dollar or less. I have become the proud owner of quite a few unique gems in this way.

When I was in the 9^th grade I got $50 a month allowance. Even in the long, long ago of 2000, $50 didn’t go far, so I had to stretch them greenbacks for all they was worth. I remember clearly the first time I bought a CD “cus it’s only a dollar." I had spent the morning cheering on our cross country team as an unofficial cheerleader. 

Yeah, our cross country team had cheerleaders. Why? Because we were so unique and non conformist. 

Anyway, afterwards my boyfriend picked me up and we spent the afternoon in St. Augustine at the “mall” (so written that way because there was almost nothing in it). There was a DC Warehouse though.

I am a music fiend and I was happy as a clam to spend the rest of my afternoon in there. Some people spend hours perusing comics or books. Not me. Heaven forbid I come within walking distance of a music store. You might not ever see me again. The demise of the music store is a casualty that I greatly mourn. 

I remember when even Crescent City had a music store . . . 

I digress.

After being in the CD Warehouse for over an hour, my greed was getting the better of me. I wanted to buy more than the Incubus CD that I had picked, but I only had 2 or three bucks left over after paying for it. 

Then, what before my wandering eyes should appear? Why, nothing other than the $1 clearance rack! I went to see what I could see. I had never heard of most of the bands and the ones I had heard of weren’t anything I wanted to waste the last of my money on. But I kept looking. Surely, there was something of value in there.

I looked at every CD on the rack. It must have taken 20 minutes. I’m sure by this point my boyfriend was over the whole music store scene. However, despite his faults with things like this he had the patience of Job. Finally, based on cover art and titles alone I had $2 worth of merchandise that I was ready to buy. 

The first was Lee Blaske –Immortal Kiss of the Vampire I was still going through my Anne Rice/Subspecies/”I’m not a Goth!”-Goth phase, so the vampire CD was a no brainer. 

So, maybe I had a Goth streak. At least I wasn't a douchy Vampire Kid.

The second was SWANS – Omniscience. I have no idea why I bought it. I liked the picture I guess.

Admit it. You'd pay a dollar for that.

For those of you who are unaware, SWANS kind of invented industrial music, and the CD that I snapped up for a mere dollar was worth close to $40, last I checked. It was just an added bonus that I actually liked the music. I wound up being quite a fan. 

Matter of fact, I emailed Michael Gira, a few times and he even wrote back! (One my simple joys in life is when someone I think is famous – regardless of whether or not they really are – acknowledges my existence.) 

As for the other, Lee Blaske did not return my emails, much to my chagrin. Nevertheless, I enjoyed his music. It was both evocative and vampire-like. I was happy. 

I’ve bought several CDs over the years in the same manner; Weston – The Massed Albert Sounds and Kristeen Young – Meet Miss Young and Her All Boy Band, for example. 

When I listen to any of them, I get the Suadades. Those were simpler times. Good times. I remember that day so clearly, and it makes me smile. I always wish I could go back to that time and place. They make me miss something I cannot name. It sucks in a wistful way. I don’t know if it’s that music stores have gone the way of the dinosaurs or if I’ve simply become nostalgic before my time, but I don’t mind feeling this sense of longing. I’m missing something that was good.

Fan Girl Friday: Imps vs Hunks

I was watching some old White Stripes music videos today, and I was struck by just how impish Jack White looks. I was also struck by how much he looks like Gerard Way from My Chemical Romance.

There was a time (when love was blind, and the world was a song, and the song was exciting . . .) when I was head over heels in love with Jack White. I mean "Renee Zelwegger, I will boycott all your movies because you are dating my man" in love. Cus that's what you do when you are in high school and you find the relationship you were in since the sixth grade has crashed and burned.

Jack White

He was clever, smart, and read music - but I didn't smoke or drink gin (like he did). And oh my gentle Jesus, could he ever make love to a guitar! If you've never heard "Hello Operator" or "I Fought Piranhas", stop reading. Stop reading right now - go to the link, and then we'll reconvene.

I swear to y'all, I could crank "Hello Operator" in my 2003 Focus and the vibrations could get me off (which is more than the ex in flames ever could). If he could do that to a guitar, my God, what could those hands to a woman's body? And he referenced blues. And Citizen Kane. And shit I actually knew and cared about. He was a walking streak of sex.

But, like all teenagers, I was fickle. When I saw the video for MCR's "I'mNot Okay", I had a new scamp to be in love with. That video - more than the song even - blew my ever loving mind.

From the beginning, their videos have been overtly cinematic in look and storytelling. I loved that. In fact, I was convinced the first time I saw "I'm Not Okay" that it was a long form trailer for a new MTV movie. I was looking online "Where do I buy tickets? Where?!?!". You have to remember that Napoleon Dynamite had just come out, and the idea of MTV being involved with a decent movie was not all that far-fetched.

When I found out that MCR was actually a band, I bought tickets to a concert immediately. I had to see them. Gerard was the new Imp King. He could write bittersweet evocative love songs about vampires and zombies (that didn't remind us of Musetta's Waltz) and his lyrical prowess was amazing.

Gerard Way

Aside from their individual musical genius though, they could have been the same person. Black hair, ghostly pallor, pointy noses, devilish grins. Sure, Jack White's taller, and Gerard has blue eyes, but it's not like elevator shoes and contact lenses didn't exist. We all know Wes Borland's eyes weren't really black. We did all know that . . . right?

So, what's my point here? That I'm attracted to pixie men? Well, yes and no. Because I am, and I'm not. At the time, yes, yes, a thousand times, yes. Almost a decade later, I'm looking back on this love affair and thinking "I could not, in all good conscience, hop into bed with either of you." I'm sorry Jack. I'm sorry Gerard. It was fun while it lasted. It's nothing against you. You are still devastatingly good looking and talented guys. I think this is more about me. There's something so delicate and slight about their features that I feel like I would have to take on the masculine role, and I just want to feel like a woman.

Nowadays, I am totally fantasizing about Vin Diesel.

Vin Diesel

 Now, if you knew me circa 2000 when Vin broke on to the scene, you might be saying "Scuse me? Joyce lusts for Vin Diesel? Doth my ears deceive me?". And you would be right. While everyone else in my class was in love with Vin, I was all about Jonathan Rhys Meyers, or Bowie, or Nick Rhodes . . . maybe even Joaquin Phoenix. What can I say, I liked androgyny. I think it's a phase all girls go through. That, and I was under the impression that muscle bound beefcakes like Vin Diesel were more or less flat-lining between the ears - especially if all the airheaded girls I knew liked him. I wanted a sensitive, sophisticated, and intelligent celebrity with whom I could festoon my locker.

My appreciation of Diesel came years later and years apart. The first phase was when, under duress, I was left with nothing to watch except The Fast and the Furious. Desperate times called for desperate measures. By the end, I was desperate to have a guy who could pick me up by cupping one ass cheek in each hand. I never knew I could be that turned on by a muscley man, as I had sworn allegiance to Nancy-boys long ago. 

Phase two occurred some time in college. I had an ever so basic knowledge of gaming and had made friends with some gamers (of the table topvariety). I was regaled with the tale of Vin Diesel being an avid Dungeons and Dragons player. “I’m listening, “I thought. Apparently, as the story was told to me, when asked if he would be good or evil, he brought his fingertips together in front of his face, and peering over them with a devilish grin, he replied “I would be chaotic neutral.” I don’t even know what that means, and it’s still hot! Why? Because Mr. Muscle Pants is the biggest geek of them all. That means he’s smart. Not music man smart, but game theory smart, which may be even better.

 Now, just because I’ve outgrown my physical attraction to the impish men, does not mean that I am any less a fan. I may be an even better fan now that the fire in my loins has been put out, because now I can view their body of work more objectively. 

Example: I was not thrilled with MCR’s last album. I liked some of the songs, but as a whole I was always far more impressed their first two albums and the live performances from the tours of both. I like my MCR pared down and raw as opposed to slick and over produced. Gerard has this awesome ability to ad-lib lyrics in the studio; I think this is awesome. We could use a lot more “Early Sunsets Over Monroeville” and a little less of the “Nananana”. 

As for Jack White, since giving up lusting after him, the only thing I’ve questioned was that James Bond duet with Alicia Keys. I love her too, but that song and the video was a train wreck. I expected more, but maybe that had to do with what the studio wanted out of the song. Who knows.