Every time I’m telling secrets
I remember how it used to be
And I realized how much I miss you
And I realize how it feels to be free
I wasn’t a very good friend at times to Jen. She wasn’t a very good friend to me many times either, like when I busted her on a three-way phone call while she was calling me an elephant, but we always forgave each other. Even on that morning in junior high when I placed a pamphlet on her desk entitled “Your Attitude And You” which led her to stomp off with her face red as a beet directly to the school counselor, all was forgotten in a couple of days.
What stuck us together was music. We were both rabid fiends for whatever we could get our hands on. She was from a much wealthier family, but I busted my ass babysitting and was able to keep right up with her collection. Oh, sure, for the majority of the time we hung out, our biggest fandom was New Kids on the Block. And you would think that would give us any and all license to like the geekiest of artists without feeling the slightest bit shameful. Instead, we supplemented our NKOTB with obscure stuff from Headbangers’ Ball.
Zappin’ it to ya
The pressure’s everywhere
Looking back, Jen was always more mainstream than I. My collection was truly delving into artists who I never heard, only read reviews in Metal Edge and the like. We started getting into heavier stuff around the same time, but she went more into the oldschool thrash world with a lot of Ozzy, Anthrax, and Iron Maiden, and later over into Jane’s Addiction and other proto-alternative fare, while I was cozying up to Carcass and Death. As far as pop music went, I was determined to wash all of it out of my system, particularly after the New Kids enthusiasm died. Jen, however, was much more comfortable with her weaknesses.
Those weaknesses being, namely: Debbie Gibson, Tiffany, and Madonna.
Keep in mind that when we’re speaking of Madonna here, we’re in the era of Erotica. Not her best work by a long shot. But I could still bring myself to listen to it and not make faces. Meanwhile, pop acts of our childish youth were still putting out albums, and Jen was still buying them. I wasn’t having one minute of it.
I’m under a spell again
Boy I’m wondering why
This is not a game of love but an emotional tie
With anyone who would listen, I would just trash the hell out of Jen’s love for Tiffy ‘n’ Debbie. I mean, come on. This was the early ’90s. We were heading full sail into Nirvana territory. I did not want to hear “Hold an Old Friend’s Hand.” I moved on to Vanilla Fields from my bottles of Electric Youth perfume. Moreover, I was getting my first taste of Dream Theater and giving the middle finger to anything on the radio, much less something that cheesy.
So with all of that being said, I don’t know what it was exactly that possessed me to steal all of Jen’s Debbie Gibson cassettes.
When I was sorry
It was too late to turn around (turn around)
And tell you so.
There was no reason
There was no reason
Just a foolish beat of my heart.
It started at school with Jen telling angry stories about how her bratty nieces were over and how they were in her stuff and now she couldn’t find her Gibson tapes. Of course, our responses were, “gee, what a loss,” but that didn’t stop her from fuming. It was actually a few days before I let the cat out of the bag to some of our mutual friends when she wasn’t around that I, in fact, had taken the tapes.
Now, it’s one thing to rescue your friend from the depths of terrible music. It’s another thing to plunder their possessions with good intentions, only to find yourself listening to these albums nonstop, and at high volume.
I guess I had come out of the closet. I took those tapes so I could rock out to Debbie Gibson without tarnishing my image.
I don’t mind not knowing what I’m headed for
You can take me to the skies…
It’s like being lost in heaven
When I’m lost in your eyes
And because young girls are bitches, my friends ratted me out to Jen, and I was forced to return the tapes. I remember telling her that I would bring them back at the end of the week, but she wanted them the next day. This angered me because that wouldn’t be enough time for me to copy them.
Of course, years later, I own an entire disc of Debbie Gibson karaoke. Yes, I also have Slayer and Queensryche karaoke as well. I’m old enough now to handle their peaceful coexistence in the annals of all which I adore.
Electric youth
It’s true you can’t fight it
Live by it
the next generation…
it’s electric
Still, I would just like to take this moment to say that I have memorized the lyrics to more songs by Metallica than Debbie. So there, I’m still metal. Right?
Please?
Don’t you see a strong resemblance to yourself,
–gloomchen
