375. Green Day, "Dookie"
If you were part of any "scene" in the 80's or 90's (and, I'm sure, today), you knew all about the evil of "selling out." Selling out was what happened when someone in the scene accidentally became successful, like more successful than house shows or pop-ups or whatever you had. Like getting a record deal with a major label or getting an agent or selling your art in a gallery to rich people. Selling out was the worst thing that could happen to someone because it meant they were no longer real.
This was Green Day's sellout album, when they left (amicably, by all accounts) indie local Lookout! records and signed with Reprise. Everyone in the East Bay punk scene was SO MAD! You are not ever supposed to actually make money. That is not cool. The punk club 924 Gilman banned Green Day from entering the place and as far as I know the ban is still in effect. Sellouts!
[UPDATE: I am informed via Twitter that the ban was lifted a while back and the band played Gilman again. Twice!]
But what an album it is. Remember when we talked about Hüsker Dü and New Day Rising and how that was some of the earliest pop-punk? Well, this is fully flowered pop-punk, with incredible, instantly catchy melodies over grinding guitars and Tre Cool's insane drumming. You surely know a bunch of songs on this record, like "Welcome to Paradise" and "Longview" and "Basket Case." They're all brilliant songs, perfectly composed and sung in Billie Joe Armstrong's nasally sneer.
I have a very clear memory of buying this CD in 1994 at a Wherehouse records store that used to be next to the Mel's on Geary. I used to get brunch sometimes at Mel's with my ex and then we'd walk next door and look around the Wherehouse for CDs. By then, this album was absolutely all over the radio, which is a thing people used to listen to, so I would have already been familiar with some of the songs.
Record stores! They were everywhere. This was before Amoeba on Haight. I would regularly hit up Reckless Records and Recycled Records, both on Haight. Tower, of course, both on Columbus and on Market Street in the Castro, for new releases and also to get concert tickets. There was a little used CD shop on 9th Avenue whose name escapes me but had a great selection. (Here's a Reckless Records vintage t-shirt for $81.60, if you're feeling nostalgic.) Aquarius Records, first in Noe Valley and then later in the familiar Valencia Street location.
They're all gone now, of course. The Wherehouse I bought this album at is now a Chase bank, predictably. Reckless and Recycled closed down years ago. Tower folded too. Amoeba has the market pretty much locked down, and that's grear, it's a nice store with an amazing selection. But there was something about wandering into those tiny stores, flipping through the stacks, listening to whatever the Record Store Clerk had put on, then heading down the street to Martin Mack's or Gold Cane with your finds to look them over with a full beer. God, I miss those days. But I guess I'm a sellout too now.
Streetlight on Market. There was one in Noe Valley, too. Another little place on Noe in the Castro, a few doors up from Market. Epicenter, on the second floor of 475 Valencia.
ReplyDeleteAnd regarding the Mel's brunch thing, some may scoff, but this City was kind of a breakfast wasteland in the early 90's. In the Mission, for example, there were a couple crepe places, and New Dawn, but not a lot more.
Streetlight! I forgot Streetlight. They were a big enough concern to have TV commercials if I remember correctly. I don't remember the other places you mentioned.
DeleteAs for brunch, yeah, there were a few places in the Haight, most notably All You Knead, which I've written about before, but Mel's had the advantages of being (relatively) solid and almost never a wait.
Speaking of 90's 16th Street breakfast, Aunt Mary's, just past Albion toward Valencia, had the best pop for a hangover. I was terrified of going into Epicenter b/c I didnt think I was cool enough!
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