Three Imaginary Girls

Seattle's Indie-Pop Press – Music Reviews, Film Reviews, and Big Fun

Wow, that was some thunder and rain that just swamped my little apartment off The Ave! A weird, cool, dark day that brings me to think about music I once liked — that I knew I'd regret.

That's right: Did you ever encounter some music you couldn't help but enjoy, but dammit if all your defenses told you was going to hurt you later on?

When I was a teenager, I remember my writing mentor quoting Iggy Pop about how much Jim Morrison meant to him. You could tell it in his lyrics and vocals, even. Same thing with Patti Smith, and then Joy Division just as I discovered them on "Closer."

So I went and got The Doors' first album. And really enjoyed it, but like playing "Get The Knack," I felt terribly wrong about it. It might have just been what other people said — "Dirty stupid pretentious hippie band!" (Not The Knack, BTW, skinny tie misogynists are a whole other subject.) Eventually I put it away, kind of creeped out I ever liked them so much. But hey, never bought stuff like "American Prayer" or whatever — I would guess that the people who own Morrisson's spoken word albums are serial killers.

Years later, a crazy guy who lived down the hall from me drove me out of my rent controlled apartment by blasting "Love Me Two Times" at "10" on his old school amped stereo at random intervals day and night. I would often just march into his apartment (he kept his door propped open, part of the problem) and yell at him to turn it down. The building was becoming deleterious to my psyche anyways so I moved (and kissed goodbye $350 rent, not cool at all). That's real music criticism — when you move.

Anyways, strangely enough, I later went on to do publicity for a Texas band … aw, never mind.

What music could you tell was going to be bad news? And why?