(Editor's Note: You're reading this on July 24th, but I'm writing it on July 17th. I'm out of town all week; kind of a no phones, no lights, no motor cars kind of thing. I didn't want to leave you in the lurch today, so I'm writing ahead of time. If something crazy happened in the last seven days, like Mel Gibson converted to Judaism or whatever, I won't be touching on that today, given my lack of a device for reliably seeing the future. For reals.)
It's hard to overstate how much I love Violent Femmes. Their self-titled debut came out in 1982, well before I had anything like autonomous muscial consciousness (I was four). The cassette tape (as far as I can guesstimate) came into my possession in or around the summer/fall of 1994. I don't remember the circumstances involved that led me to buy the tape, but I do remember listening to that cassette over and over and over when I started to drive. (I've written it before, but it bears repeating; for the first five or so years that I drove, I drove a 1989 Plymouth Acclaim. I carried four cassette tapes: REM’s Document, the soundtrack to Repo Man, the first Violent Femmes album, and Led Zeppelin II. It was one of those or the radio.) Violent Femmes might be the perfect record for the bookish high school kid. Shit, Gordon Gano sang what I thought of as my life on that record. Kevin and James listened to hair metal in high school, presumably because they played football and scored with chicks. I read Ray Bradbury, talked to five people, and put my stock in Gano and Stipe. Mike (I'd argue) speaks to the romantic at the heart of every dork; Gordon speaks to the brooding depressive, the last picked kid in gym class who doesn't think things are going to change (at least on that first record; I mean "I'm so lonely/feel like I'm gonna crawl away and die" isn't even the most depressing lyric on the record, which is certainly saying something).
All this to introduce the fact that I turn 32 this summer. The last time I shouted the lyrics to "Add It Up" in my car (three days ago, for the record), it hit me that I've been listening to Violent Femmes for longer than I haven't. I didn't have that record (or cassette, or "mp3," or whatever) in my life for my first sixteen years on the planet. I've now had that record coursing through my brain for more than half my life. Mrs. Citizen and I have always put a lot of stock in those kinds of dates (for instance, we'll have been married longer than we haven't been married in June of 2023, which is crazy). That record (and, obviously, the band itself and the records that came after it, most notably Hallowed Ground, but also Why Do Birds Sing?) has shepherded me through the greater part of my adult life. Weird shit. To commemorate my half-life-averssary with Violent Femmes, we've got two of the best tracks, live from 1984. (In related news, neither of them are "Blister in the Sun," which is kind of like "Love Her Madly," as far as that goes.)
Violent Femmes – Promise – Live, 1984
Violent Femmes – Kiss Off – Live, 1984
To close out today, as promised in the run-up to my jaunt to Chicago, we've got some live MMJ. If you are on the way to the Notherly Island on August 17th as well, first Old Style is on you.
My Morning Jacket – Dancefloors – Live, 2008
