when counting crows was popular

last night i was having a debate with myself. strangely, it went unresolved. but john mccain declared himself the winner before it was over anyway. regardless, the issue at hand was whether “recovering the satellites” was actually a great record, or whether it was just a good record that i associated with an emotionally-charged part of my life (i.e. my late teenage years). i was inclined to believe that, no, this work really could stand on it’s own – that even if it wasn’t a musical masterpiece, it was still strong lyrically and had truly catchy hooks. plus, it had one of those brilliant “throwaway”-sounding tracks that seem to be found on so many of my other favorite albums (“exile on main st.“, “being there,” “hang time,” etc.).

but then i thought, “what the f*ck am i talking about?” the counting crows are not a great american rock band. they would never make a desert island list. for anyone. even adam duritz. if just about any of those songs came on the radio today, and it was new to me, i would probably be immediately reminded why i stopped listening to commercial radio years ago. but i heard that record at a certain point in my life, and it will forever resonate with me because of it. much like “vs.” will always be the record that reminds me what it was like to be 16, white, and angry in a way that only young, middle-class, suburbanites from good families can be. similarly: until the day i die, any time i hear the song “champagne supernova,” i will instantly be brought back to my freshman year of college, and i will think of a beautiful brunette whose last name i cannot remember, and who i have had no contact with since she transfered to some school in georgia at the end of that year. but i’m pretty sure i could have loved her anyway, and so that song remains a favorite, despite it’s obvious musical shortcomings.

seemingly unlike most other art forms, i think our appreciation of, and attachment to, music can so easily be manipulated by the emotional context of our lives when we first hear it, or when it first begins to make sense to us. or at least this happens to a much greater extent with music. i have no more profound theory regarding this phenomena. i hope someone else does. in the meantime, i’m merely looking to avoid any memorable first kisses while an oingo boingo song is playing in the background.