Let us play with time for a moment. In more ways than one. First off, though this is (obviously) dated to Thursday, August 18, 2011, the contents of this post did not occur until the following day. So we are make-believing quite a few things here. Wibbly Wobbly. Oh, and also, its about rock-music-memoires. Which are always fun.
I quite like non-fiction. I never understood the point of it outside of history text books when I was a teenager. (Yes, I enjoyed reading history text books as a teenager. No, I was not a big weirdo who read them for fun, I just didn't complain about my homework. For History class anyway.) But somewhere along the line, I became enjoying reading them. And Music memoires, along with parenting books (don't ask, I don't get it either) are my non-fiction of choice. Oh, and pop-culture sociology. Especially when they're Canadian. Or about 1950s Americana. This is becoming too long of a tangent.
So Music mémoires. Music Mémoires are like rock-journalism. Sort of. They manage to capture the uber geekiness of being in love with music and an age when, really, just about every facet of life is a wee bit awkward. But I get them. And they get me. Or would, if, you know, books had personalities and were anthropomorphized and all that.
Somehow a lot of them tend to be set in the 1980s. Probably because rock journalists who would write good memoires are all currently the age that they would have been teenagers in the 80s. Which is fine. Because the 80s is hilarious for oh so many reasons. Big hair, dudes in make-up, mullets, spandex, and hair metal. All of which is wonderfully captured in Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City, about growing up a metalhead in North Dakota. About Loving Motley Crue and Led Zepplin and Cinderella. Who I have never actually heard. But that's besides the point.
So when me and E went shopping and she bought a John Green book, I actually bought a book that wasn't on sale. Or something I had planned on buying. And 6 chapters in, it is like Fargo Rock City, if Fargo Rock City were about David Bowie, new wave, being Irish with cool younger sisters and being on the wrestling team in 10th grade.
I suppose what I find strange about reading rock-memoires, is that, as good as my memory is, I don't know if I could do it. I mean, yeah, I'm a girl, and all boy rock journalists seem to be convinced that girls don't think or care about music in the same way they do (lists, comparisons, ranking, trivia), which is sooooo not true (not that I am interested in trying to convince everyone I ever meet that they should LOVE my favourite band, I am simply enthusiastic about my favourite bands), and yet, I don't think the actual events of my every day lives had that much wrapped up in music. Music was certainly their soundtrack and gave me a lot of insight and certainly had a lot to do with how I saw the world, but its not like I had a love affaire with the music video of the week. Heck, getting to see the videos of the bands I liked was a special occasion. But it was so wrapped up in everything and so intertwined, I don't think I could pick out stories with specific songs. As much as I have songs and albums that attach specifically to times and places, its not like I could pick out a specific song that encapsulated that one field hockey game where we lost the semi-finals and our captain broke her wrist (true story).
And maybe that's what separates boy-love of music and girl-love of music.
Or maybe the thesis of 'Talking to girls about Duran Duran' is right. Girls have a kind of devotion to bands, a life-long following that boys aren't as good at.
-K
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