Friday, February 25, 2011

Back When Audioslave Was Still Rage

I'm jumping ahead a little, but one thing I've learned over the last few months is that all Weezer fans have a "Weezer story." My friend Zack from Chicago, for example, thinks of his father, who passed away, whenever he hears Weezer (specifically In the Garage). His dad introduced him to the Blue Album and they used to listen together, which is part of why their music is so meaningful to him. My other friend, Crystal from Wisconsin, associates Weezer and the Blue Album with finding her own strong, independent female voice. She'd have to explain her story, but the point is, we all have a Weezer story. Whenever I meet a fellow fan, I almost always ask, "What's your Weezer story?" Never fail, every Weezer fan has one.

I guess my Weezer story starts back in 1991, and it actually starts with Hole. As in, Courtney Love. Yeah, that Hole. September 1991 was a time of transition for me. I was 13 years old, just starting high school as a freshman. I got contacts, was learning how to manage my crazy curly hair (step 1 = stop hairspraying my bangs into a giant tidal wave), and I was starting to figure out how to be comfortable with who I was.

Now, I've always been different. When I say different, what I mean is, I've always stood out. Literally. I was always at least a head taller than all the other kids in my class my entire life. By the time I was 13, I was 6-ft-3. I stopped growing in 1993, at age 16. I was (and still am) 6-ft-5.

So... during this time of transition, in addition to changing my hair and my glasses, I also stopped listening to Milli Vanilli and Vanilla Ice and started listening to this crazy, angry, vulgar band called Hole. Keep in mind, this was before I heard of Nirvana -- although Hole's Pretty On the Inside and Nevermind came out around the same time, I heard Hole first. I'm just pointing this out to give you some context. So you know what's coming, but it hadn't come yet.

Anyway, I had never heard anything so empowering as Hole. This bitch was clearly different and didn't give a fuck who knew it. "When I was a teenage whore, my mother asked me she said baby what for?" "I've seen your repulsion and it looks real good on you." "And every one of you looks the same. And every one of you feels the same." Wow. Respect. She was a mutant and she was proud. I wanted to be just like her.

Things just got better and better for oddball me from there. Starting high school in 1991 was one of the luckiest breaks someone like me could have gotten. First came Courtney, then came Kurt, then Pearl Jam, Live, Green Day, Weezer, etc. Because of these guys, being different became a good thing. Everybody wanted to be different. The jocks started growing their hair out, wearing ripped up jeans and flannels and starting bands. The blonde preppy bitches started dying their hair purple and trying to be my friends. Pretty people started wearing glasses to look more nerdy. Everyone shopped at thrift stores. It was a wonderful time to be different.

Me? I didn't even have to try. I was freakishly tall, thin, and pale, with severe features and naturally black hair. I wore band t-shirts and my dad's old "vintage" pants because no other pants were long enough. Because being different was what was in style in the 90s, high school was a breeze for a mutant like me. I was no longer getting picked last in P.E., cute seniors were asking me out as a sophomore, I was on student council, voted "Most Unique" in our yearbook, etc. etc.

Getting back to Weezer... I got the Blue Album as soon as it came out in 1994. I was either a junior or a senior. I loved Buddy Holly, the Sweater Song, and Say It Ain't So, along with everyone else. My best friend at the time and I used to drive around in her '67 powder blue Camaro (her with her platinum or burgundy hair and baby doll dresses, and me with my black nails and Doc Martens - woohoo unisex sizes!) listening to Weezer, Hole, Babes In Toyland, PJ Harvey, Beck and the Pixies. Our music philosophy was the same as our style philosophy: "The weirder the better."

The summer after I graduated high school in 1995 was probably the happiest summer of my life. I remember my friends Allison, Rex, Yasmien, Max and I drove to the lake one time SCREAMING the words to Say It Ain't So in unison the whole way there. (Right before stripping down to our underwear, jumping in the lake, and playing truth or dare). It was a happy, carefree time, and it was a good time to be different.

Like I said, my Weezer obsession didn't start until I was 32 (last Sep). But my love of Weezer started in 1994, with the Blue Album. And Hole and Nirvana. Originally, for me, Weezer was just a small piece of the beautiful, blessed, lucky weirdness that was the 90s. Little did I know, that was only the beginning. :)

How Stupid Is It? I Can't Talk About It. I Gotta Blog About It. And Make a Record of My Heart.

Ok, so here's the deal. I'm not crazy. I'm not a stalker. (Well, not a dangerous one anyway.) I'm just a normal, happily married, 33-year-old lady-lawyer, who just happens to feel ... very passionate feelings for Weezer.

I wasn't always this way -- obsessed with Weezer, I mean. It started about 5 months ago -- Labor Day weekend 2010, to be exact. How it happened is somewhat still a mystery to me. But, the point is, it happened. And since then, it's been one deliriously happy, thrilling, unpredictable Weezer-adventure after another. I've been to 7 shows in the span of 5 months, met the band four times, traveled to Seattle, L.A., and Chicago, and met dozens of amazing, fun-loving, like-minded, passionate people from all over America and the world. :)

The point of this blog is to journal this amazing time in my life. And to share my love and my passion with my fellow Weezies. :) Twitter doesn't give me enough space to say everything I want to say about Weezer. Facebook has too many unsupportive haters (none of my friends share, understand, or support my passion). And can be a hostile place. So here we are. This is my Weezer story...