As we drove in the car on a recent trip I got to listen to whatever I wanted to on my iPod. "Sign of the Gypsy Queen" by April Wine began to play. It is a fantastic song that I was pleased to re-discover on iTunes. It is like a little time capsule from 1981. As the song played and the family slept in the car (hence my complete freedom for musical choice) I began to reminisce about that time.
In 1981 I was thirteen years old and my whole life was rock and roll, the fledgling MTV (where I was introduced to April Wine), my best friend and a fantastic and exciting new video game called Defender. He was from a broken home and had a history of abuse (Let me clip Your dirty wings). He had a reckless and unique sense of humor, a megalomaniacal personality and what I would later discover was a very addictive and self destructive side. We had no idea back then that we were the fledgling grunge generation or that we were enmeshed in helping to create the cultural landing strip for Nirvana's revolutionary impact.
He was fantastic at Defender. He was always better than me. He would steal money and spend hours at whatever arcade was open and play and play and play. I did not know then that he was seeking escape. It was fun to watch him play. I never got past the fifth level. He eventually discovered what happened when you reached a million points. The game just started over. His fingers were amazing when he played. His thumb slapped the reverse button spastically and his right hand melded with the joystick. Firing was a constant stream, but even I could do that. His magic was the placement of the ship and thrusting exactly right (I'm worse at what I do best, And for this gift I feel blessed).
This level of dedication was tragically misplaced and profound. The color scheme of the game was beautiful and even now if I could use this scheme to decorate my house I probably would. The colors were only dark and it was all set against a black screen. The colors were meant to make you feel like you were deep in another world where light was not plentiful. Even in the arcades it was always dark (With the lights out it's less dangerous). Sometimes April Wine even played in the background. He would get kicked out of school a few years later for doing lines of cocaine off of the Biology class room tables. We had grown apart as his behavior became more risky and blatantly hostile (Load up on guns and Bring your friends).
He would reappear in my life about ten years later as I was a college student in family housing in Seattle. It was grunge central and I was deep into the Sub Pop scene. He was looking for a place to stay after some or another part of his life had fallen apart. The soundtrack had changed profoundly.
Over this trip last Xmas I also got to listen to Nirvana and even received a Kurt Cobain figure from my sister as a Christmas gift. I still love Nirvana. They feel like home in a lot of ways. It occurred to me as I listened to Nevermind while doing the dishes that they probably played Defender as adolescents just like I did and I wondered what effect that color scheme had on them (I'm so ugly, But that's ok, 'cause so are you.)
The fundamental power of Nirvana is the bleak and explosive contrast that they create. They do not shy away from paradox of crushing and even violent volume with bubble gum melody but revel in it. I heard some narration from a history of rock and roll piece explain recently that Kurt had wanted to mix Black Sabbath and the Beatles. That seems to make some sense, but it does not capture all of it. If you listen to the music you can hear that the paradox is not only sonic, it is emotional and philosophical (I'm lucky to have met you I don't care what you think unless It is about me It is now my duty to completely drain you.)
That violent dissonant feedback and the fuzzbox screaming vocals are primal and they are dancing along the edge of something that seems apocalyptic in scope. I don't know exactly what the connection is between April Wine, my best friend from 7th grade, Nirvana and Defender but I know it is there and it means something. I think that the color scheme must matter a lot but I am not sure how and I wish that I could remember exactly how the sounds of the game used to make me feel.
In 1981 I was thirteen years old and my whole life was rock and roll, the fledgling MTV (where I was introduced to April Wine), my best friend and a fantastic and exciting new video game called Defender. He was from a broken home and had a history of abuse (Let me clip Your dirty wings). He had a reckless and unique sense of humor, a megalomaniacal personality and what I would later discover was a very addictive and self destructive side. We had no idea back then that we were the fledgling grunge generation or that we were enmeshed in helping to create the cultural landing strip for Nirvana's revolutionary impact.
He was fantastic at Defender. He was always better than me. He would steal money and spend hours at whatever arcade was open and play and play and play. I did not know then that he was seeking escape. It was fun to watch him play. I never got past the fifth level. He eventually discovered what happened when you reached a million points. The game just started over. His fingers were amazing when he played. His thumb slapped the reverse button spastically and his right hand melded with the joystick. Firing was a constant stream, but even I could do that. His magic was the placement of the ship and thrusting exactly right (I'm worse at what I do best, And for this gift I feel blessed).
This level of dedication was tragically misplaced and profound. The color scheme of the game was beautiful and even now if I could use this scheme to decorate my house I probably would. The colors were only dark and it was all set against a black screen. The colors were meant to make you feel like you were deep in another world where light was not plentiful. Even in the arcades it was always dark (With the lights out it's less dangerous). Sometimes April Wine even played in the background. He would get kicked out of school a few years later for doing lines of cocaine off of the Biology class room tables. We had grown apart as his behavior became more risky and blatantly hostile (Load up on guns and Bring your friends).
He would reappear in my life about ten years later as I was a college student in family housing in Seattle. It was grunge central and I was deep into the Sub Pop scene. He was looking for a place to stay after some or another part of his life had fallen apart. The soundtrack had changed profoundly.
Over this trip last Xmas I also got to listen to Nirvana and even received a Kurt Cobain figure from my sister as a Christmas gift. I still love Nirvana. They feel like home in a lot of ways. It occurred to me as I listened to Nevermind while doing the dishes that they probably played Defender as adolescents just like I did and I wondered what effect that color scheme had on them (I'm so ugly, But that's ok, 'cause so are you.)
The fundamental power of Nirvana is the bleak and explosive contrast that they create. They do not shy away from paradox of crushing and even violent volume with bubble gum melody but revel in it. I heard some narration from a history of rock and roll piece explain recently that Kurt had wanted to mix Black Sabbath and the Beatles. That seems to make some sense, but it does not capture all of it. If you listen to the music you can hear that the paradox is not only sonic, it is emotional and philosophical (I'm lucky to have met you I don't care what you think unless It is about me It is now my duty to completely drain you.)
That violent dissonant feedback and the fuzzbox screaming vocals are primal and they are dancing along the edge of something that seems apocalyptic in scope. I don't know exactly what the connection is between April Wine, my best friend from 7th grade, Nirvana and Defender but I know it is there and it means something. I think that the color scheme must matter a lot but I am not sure how and I wish that I could remember exactly how the sounds of the game used to make me feel.
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