Yo yo yo, modern day Lloyd Dobler at your service...
Last time you dropped into my realm, I got your sadness boners popped out thick style. You slurped up the sorrow and got underneath your blankies. I feel that. I love that. I love you.
This time around, I'm gonna take it back to a very warm and special place: high school, motherfuckers! Remember that awesome time in your life, when you first started to realize what you truly were as a human being, and what your weird skin and weird brain were all about?
Maybe you were the basketball star, maybe you were a straight-A honor student. Me? I mostly spent my time writing poetry that was straight-up just terrible Morrissey and Isaac Brock lyrical rip-off, and trying to avoid getting diarrhea in Geometry and shitting my pants. BUT... There was one thing I was good at: making pretentious, bullshit mix CDs for ladies I was crushing on, jam-packed with the most soul-deadening hits.
Y'see basically, at 15-16, I thought the way to a female's heart was through a perfectly synced up, well thought out mix CD. I felt like it could express my true emotion, through the melodies and lyrics of all my favorite artists, in a most profound and passionate way that I was not capable of. Call me naïve, but honestly, that idea's stuck with me, at least a little bit... I still sometimes think this shit'll work, but now I'm 28, and at least I can realize I'm totally goddamned foolish.
What I've done for the second installment of my brand new, hit column, Sad-Ass Music, is rack my brain to remember the very first mix CD I ever made for a lady. It's a veritable grab bag of poisonous, woeful creepers. I legit had to dig deep, through lifeless and disgusting memories, to really remember every song, and I'm still not 100 percent, but I did my best. This is how I remember it.
Now take into considersation, this was WAY before the days of just lazily posting a fucking mediafire link up in a Facebook message like a faceless coward. No no, I had to walk this thing up to her at school, most likely in front of her critical ass friends, handwritten tracklisting and all. Shit, I might've even made some notes here and there. I think my big speech was something along the lines of “Uhhhhh, here, I made this, uhh, for you to check out. Maybe you'll, like, uhhh, dig some of it.” I'm fucking retarded.
So anyway, enough backstory. Here's the very first “crush” mix CD I ever made, at 16 years old. Shit.
Dude OK, so I thought this was the best intro, and guess what? It totally was. Mogwai lays down the lush instrumental love with some sample of Iggy doing an interview, and it so works. Iggy cops the 'tude, and speaks the truth of the punk rock religion. I just wanted this girl to know how fucking hip I was, maaaaaan.
Right into the bombast of the almighty emo godhead, SUNNY DAY REAL ESTATE. If you didn't spend any time in your life jamming SDRE, well there's a good chance you might've gotten laid more than me, but you're probably a fucking knucklehead. School up, freshmen.
I'd have to say, my 16th year of life might've seen this song pop up in my Winamp more than any other piece of music. Something about Blonde Redhead, and this album specifically, spoke to me. It still does. I think I even imagined what sex would be like, while listening to a band like Blonde Redhead, but guess what? I wouldn't find out what that was for, like, five more years, because making mix CDs doesn't ever really get you laid, regardless of what your older brother told you. And besides that, dude literally only listens to White Zombie.
I'm fucking stupid. What was I thinking? I was practically screaming, “DON'T EVER EVEN THINK ABOUT GIVING ME A BLOWJOB!” In this very song, homeboy says, and I quote: “is it special when you're lonely / will you spend your whole life / in a studio apartment / with a cat for a wife?” Jesus Christ, man. Hey lady, didn't you hear, I'm the saddest piece of shit ever? Ugh. Don't get me wrong though, Bazan is a mega-dude f'real. Scope a burner like “Second Best,” for pure knowledge of his heavy vibes. That jam is real tough.
Whatever man, this song is still bad-the-fuck-ass. I'd put this on a mix right now, just show me what lady is looking for the love. AND These dudes still hammer out some of the most righteous poppy sad stuff my ears have had the pleasure to chew upon. Homeboy Jeff Garber was in Hum and Castor too, and those dudes were totally sad. Just saying all this, because if you really wanna get on my level of sad music connoisseurism, this shit will most definitely be on the final.
I think what I was trying to say with this mix was “please hug and kiss and snuggle me 'cuz, I'm like, the world's most sensitive and caring man, and I understand, I really understand...” But I think what I really ended up saying with this shit was “hey, I'm a huge pussy. Pee and poop on me metaphorically, literally, whatever. I can't deal with real life.” He literally says: “the world goes on without my faith in anything / to have to drag myself from bed, pull a sweater over my head / somehow find a way to brave the sun again.” Hey, emo life, y'all.
Long before the marriage, and eventual downfall, of Ben Gibbard and Zooey Deschanel, I was out there, y'know, just jamming Death Cab looking for my own cutesy and awkward shorty. THAT'S WHY I WAS MAKING MIX CDS, DUDE. I remember tilting my head back when I drug this mugg over into the playlist, smug smile on my face, thinking “you are fucking killing it, Watson.”
These dudes wore the absolute tightest pants and rocked big fucking afros. Ah, really though, who gives a shit? We all just wanted to be sensitive, punk rock revolutionaries.
I also put this on a mix I made my mom, so, like, whatever maaaan.
Finally... Something that makes sense on a mix CD for a crush. I just knew this jam would seal the deal. I could practically smell the pussy from my computer chair. Go ahead, put this on a mix for your crush.
The initial time I saw the music video for this song, I guess I felt like an adult for the first time in my life. That stuck in my brain, and I sort of felt like by putting this track on the mix, I'd appear to be really mature. Unfortunately, there's the whole thing about how I was making a girl I had a crush on a mix CD which completely negates any notion of maturity. Yeah. Let that soak in, homie.
It's almost like I knew this would never, ever, ever, ever, ever fucking work in a million years to secure a girlfriend, and I was like, “OK dude, cool, don't even worry about it, I'm already prepared to just lay in this fucking bed of disappointment I've made for myself and learn how to be a jaded asshole.” Yikes. Was I truly clueless about how to interact socially with any living, breathing human being? This song does rule though. No joke.
So, y'know? What did I learn in the end? Nothing really. I still make girls mix CDs, but I just don't expect anything out of it. And you never should. It's a bogus act; but it's fun, and it can be friendly and flirty. Essentially, it's a perfect tool for setting a tone or finding out how inside or outside your zone a person is, on some artsy type shit-level. You can test a lot of waters with a good mix, f'real. Y'know, though, just do whatever, form your own ideas and opinions, I'm just sharing my own personal knowledge bank here. Feel out your own style.
I actually ran into the girl I made this mix CD for, many years down the line, and asked if she remembered it. She actually informed me that she really liked it, still had it, and would still ocassionally listen to it.
Personally, I think she was talking mad shit.
Well hey, since I'm such a good friend, I'll leave you with a few tracks to consider putting a mix CD now that you're a real-life adult, with real genitals that need to be filled up/drained/whatever.
Til next time, I love you all to death. Stay sad. <3 XOXO <3