carrie bradshaw not included. and thank god.
That was the year I first saw the video for Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” and the explosion of compressed and distorted guitar was like an atom bomb going off on my head, layering a mushroom cloud over everything I’d listened to prior. That and “Lithium” had me hooked. For the next several years, one eye watched Kurt Cobain’s shadow, the other scoped Christopher Wallace’s. In the early 90’s, the idea of a scrawny black kid spending days skateboarding to “All Apologies” and nights bumping “The Warning,” elicited a fairly peculiar image. Figuring the kid would grow up to be an experimental-folk singer moonlighting as a hip-hop producer who flips samples from Catpower and The Unicorns, is probably similarly awkward.
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on Thursday, February 5th, 2009 at 6:29 pm and is filed under indie black america, the homies, advertisement, "meaningful" essayism.
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