And the infinite sadness

So the other day I had the radio on, and some Smashing Pumpkins song came on. I was never really a Pumpkins ‘fan’ per say, but I do believe they were a damn fine radio band. To be honest, that’s most of how I experienced music throughout the 90’s – via the radio. I’m just not a music person: I bought few CDs as a teenager, but not much really noteworthy. My only musical obsession was – wait for it – Tori Amos, with a side of Sarah McLachlan and that one year of Alanis and ‘Jagged Little Pill.’ Sure, I knew all the lyrics on ‘Under the Pink,’ but music, to put it lightly, was not my thing. I listened to the same mixtape on my Walkman, which I used EVERY DAY, for the entirety of freshmen year. It was all very sad and pathetic.

(Oh, and Tori? Was actually discovered by my MOM. I was just. that. cool. I got better after discovering Napster: I still can’t say I’m on the forefront of music, but at least I can make playlists entirely devoid of Tori Amos songs.)

So. The radio band. Best enjoyed in small doses. You don’t buy their CDs, or go to their concerts, or buy magazines just because they’re on the cover. You just hear them, every once and a while, on the radio. That’s what Smashing Pumpkins were to me. And they did a damn fine job of it. (SUCK IT, NICKLEBACK.) And now they’re the soundtrack to a Visa commercial. Yes Jezebel, I am indeed old. Thanks for the reminder.

Though, come to think of it, I did own ‘Siamese Dream.’ On cassette. Huh.

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