Buffalo Gal

When I was a kid, a 97 test score meant to my father that I had missed three points.
Let's not tell him about this one.
I scanned the Rolling Stone list of the top 100 songs of 2006 looking for my favorites. There were none.
There were three songs I'd actually heard - Dylan, Solomon Burke and Springsteen. There were another three I'd heard about - the Dixie Chicks, Petty, Elvis Costello.
At best, I scored a 6 of 100. I don't think I can claim another point for having heard of Weird Al Yankovich.
The stark realization that Justin Timberlake had two songs on the list, praised as art by the venerable Rolling Stone critics told me quickly and painfully that I am chronologically irrelevant.
A desperate internal voice tired to placate me, I download new music almost every Tuesday. I share new artists with friends with an evangelical zeal.
But apparently not the right stuff.
Rolling Stone and I used to agree all the time. It was my first subscription, oversized and stuffed wrinkled into my college mail box. The writers sat upon the new journalism altar and I genuflected deeply.
Gnarls Barkley checked in at number one. What is a Gnarls Barkley and how did I miss it? He/she/it checks in again at number 29.
I am a relic.
The number two song is described as "a perfect dirty sundae of fuzz-box stutter, metallic zoom and pop-chorale candy." Maybe I deliberately ducked that one.
Likely the same with number three "The song least likely to be played in Drivers' Ed.: Chamillionaire dodges the cops, riding dirty with a car full of thugs who don't care where they're rolling or if they get there in one piece."
Tell me please that you too are a little surprised that number five is a "sleek, bare-bones ode to midpriced sneakers. Words of warning: "Lace 'em past the fourth hole, you some type of sucker."
Dylan, Tom Waits, Springsteen, John Mayer, Yo Lo Tengo, and Lindsey Buckingham made their Top 50 album list, giving me a glancing shot at relevance, but only until I started cataloguing all the new albums this year I simply loved.
Ray Davies, Ray LaMontagne, Willie Nile, Paul Simon, Mark Knopfler, Tab Benoit, Keb Mo... there isn't much point in going on.
Rolling Stone and I used to be pretty cool.
One of us lost it.

Copyright 2006 Judi Griggs

Buffalo Gal Judi Griggs I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (1) Share on Facebook		2007-01-07 6:48 AM Top ? 100 When I was a kid, a 97 test score meant to my father that I had missed three points. Let's not tell him about this one. I scanned the Rolling Stone list of the top 100 songs of 2006 looking for my favorites. There were none. There were three songs I'd actually heard - Dylan, Solomon Burke and Springsteen. There were another three I'd heard about - the Dixie Chicks, Petty, Elvis Costello. At best, I scored a 6 of 100. I don't think I can claim another point for having heard of Weird Al Yankovich. The stark realization that Justin Timberlake had two songs on the list, praised as art by the venerable Rolling Stone critics told me quickly and painfully that I am chronologically irrelevant. A desperate internal voice tired to placate me, I download new music almost every Tuesday. I share new artists with friends with an evangelical zeal. But apparently not the right stuff. Rolling Stone and I used to agree all the time. It was my first subscription, oversized and stuffed wrinkled into my college mail box. The writers sat upon the new journalism altar and I genuflected deeply. Gnarls Barkley checked in at number one. What is a Gnarls Barkley and how did I miss it? He/she/it checks in again at number 29. I am a relic. The number two song is described as "a perfect dirty sundae of fuzz-box stutter, metallic zoom and pop-chorale candy." Maybe I deliberately ducked that one. Likely the same with number three "The song least likely to be played in Drivers' Ed.: Chamillionaire dodges the cops, riding dirty with a car full of thugs who don't care where they're rolling or if they get there in one piece." Tell me please that you too are a little surprised that number five is a "sleek, bare-bones ode to midpriced sneakers. Words of warning: "Lace 'em past the fourth hole, you some type of sucker." Dylan, Tom Waits, Springsteen, John Mayer, Yo Lo Tengo, and Lindsey Buckingham made their Top 50 album list, giving me a glancing shot at relevance, but only until I started cataloguing all the new albums this year I simply loved. Ray Davies, Ray LaMontagne, Willie Nile, Paul Simon, Mark Knopfler, Tab Benoit, Keb Mo... there isn't much point in going on. Rolling Stone and I used to be pretty cool. One of us lost it. Copyright 2006 Judi Griggs Read/Post Comments (1) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top