When Wil and I started the This Wreckage ‘zine over 30 years ago now, the idea is that we would have people submit material that we would throw in each issue as is and put it out to the world. What we didn’t realize going in is that most people do not want to actually share things like that. We struggled in finding material to achieve our albeit ambitious goal of a monthly issue.
However, in a small way, I’d like to float out a similar request we used to do every issue, but with more of a singular focus. I am hoping that anyone who reads this would be willing to send some kind of story of a certain song that means something to them. This could mean a short story, an essay, a drawing, a photograph, a poem, a few words, I don’t know. One of my favorite things is to tie music to pretty much every waking minute of my life. It’s a problem really. There are hundreds of songs that evoke a lot of emotions for me for a variety of reasons based on their being nearby at the time. I absolutely love hearing and reading other people’s stories along these lines. I don’t care the genre, or the artist, or my personal history, if any, with the song, I find these stories endlessly fascinating.
I’m hoping to encourage any and every one who might be willing to send some of their stories to me via messenger, or via email: tangledrec@hotmail.com. I would like to share them here, on this site, if given the permission.
-Chris G.
Please ask any questions you may have.
The very early 90s marked an intense period of loss for me. I languished in grief for a few years over the loss of friends, loss of love, health, and potential. It took me a long time to begin to pull out of the darkness. In great part due to the constant flow of incredible music that I was discovering during those years, I began to feel inspired and alive again. I think a lot of us form our tastes for things during those formative early 20s years, at least it was that way for me, especially with music. By that point, I began to realize that I had a preference for female vocals with my “post modern” rock music, but with a few exceptions, I was not a fan of the high pitched baby voiced singers. Sure, I could make excuses for the ones that were okay with me, but I could not truly determine why some worked and some didn’t. I’m sure most of it came down to the music behind the voice and THE SONGS! So, I loved and continue to love The Sundays, but most of what would often get compared to them, I never got into. For example, when US combo, the innocence mission, were signed to major A&M Records, they were promoted as a US version of The Sundays, or the next 10,000 Maniacs. In 1991, I received an A&M Records promo CD, which included a few innocence mission songs from their second LP, Umbrella. No matter how many times I listened to those songs, I could not get into them. It’s not that they were bad, it’s just that they had no hooks, or grit (even 10,000 Maniacs had some edge when they began], and Karen Peris’ baby-voiced vocals became off-putting. However, in 1995, I began hearing the intriguing dreamy/warbly guitar sounds and high pitched vocals of “Bright As Yellow,” on our local commercial “alternative” radio station. I could not get enough of that song. It possessed a similar dusty, airy and exotic feel as Mazzy Star’s first single “Halah,” which, of course, drew from the timeless voice of Patsy Cline. It was a pleasure to hear repeatedly and an increasing addiction.
As I have mentioned prior, the innocence mission’s third album, Glow, is an amazing, inspired, and powerful triumph (previous article: Bright As Yellow). It is pretty, it contains catchy memorable songs, has great performances, is immaculately produced and contains the song “That Was Another Country,” one of the best distillations of feeling loss. The words, seem to be looking back at joyous experiences from the past with the narrator’s full gang of family of and friends, yet as early as the first verse we are given a hint that everything may not be alright: “taking blankets to the bay / It’s the same / And he was fine / and in the first place was around.” Then we are taken down a road of the loss of innocence as in regards to life and death and that perhaps this person was in crisis. The chorus repeats: “are you alright” in a way that does not define if the narrator was helpless in trying to save them, or if they’re regretful for not asking that question when it was still possible. The music is wistful, full of life, and in combination with the vocals devastating in its heartbreak, yet somehow overwhelmingly life-affirming. Its ultimate conclusion: “you are still my friend / you didn’t go out of my life” is one of comfort. As someone who aspires to write, and I mean with talent, not in bulk like I do, I admire the ability of conveying so much emotion and tangible visuals with such a minimum of words. “That Was Another Country” never ceases to break my heart and fill me with a spine tingling desire to truly appreciate this life we have.
I did not continue to follow the
innocence mission’s later work, because it never struck me in the same
way. Glow
will live on in my small pantheon of prolific artists where I especially love
only one of their albums like The
Darling Buds’ Erotica and The Cardigans’ Gran Turismo.
