Tuesday, 5/13/97 ‘Addiction’ drains savings but adds joy to life
COLUMN: Love of music opens fan up to genres from rap to
‘Britpop’
My name is Mike, and I am a music-aholic. We all have our
"addictions." This university is supposedly notorious for
higher-than-normal coffee addictions. Some of us hit the booze more
often than we should. Practically this whole campus lights up, and
I’m talking both cigarettes and pot. I know individuals who
uncontrollably go to the gym. And so on. My addiction is music. I
play it while I’m doing homework, talking on the phone and driving.
I am always listening to my Walkman on campus, and I pretty much
just leave the CD player running whenever I am in my apartment,
except when I sleep. Basically, I spend more than half my day with
music. I need it more than anything – well, except people. My music
evolution-cum-addiction started when I was 6. My parents gave me
this dinky little transistor AM radio. At the time, KFI was the
only pop-music AM station, so I listened to it. I wore out
batteries left and right. I left it on at night. It became my
favorite "toy." When I was 7, I got my first tape. It was the
Police’s "Synchronicity," which I admit is a weird "first album,"
but I was into rock early on. I still have it to this day. Soon my
parents bought me more tapes, but they wouldn’t buy me heavy metal.
I loved metal. I had to go to my friend’s house to listen to Def
Leppard and Iron Maiden. There was something really taboo about
heavy metal, something that made listening to it seem so
rebellious. My friends and I thought this was cool, almost as cool
as talking about sex. Then I grew out of that stuff. I switched to
plain rock. I’d sit by the radio and tape songs all day.
Ironically, I actually remember hearing my first R.E.M. song ("The
One I Love") and not liking it. I pretty much wore out a copy of
Bruce Springsteen’s "Born in the U.S.A." and asked my mom to take
me to the L.A. Coliseum to see his show (she didn’t). I also liked
Sting, INXS and Duran Duran. Bryan Adams was kinda cool too (before
he became the Movie Ballad Wuss). In fifth grade, I was introduced
to anthem-heavy rock. I could not listen to enough Simple Minds,
Tears For Fears or U2. Again, my mom wouldn’t take me to these
concerts. She would only see Barry Manilow in concert. I hated
Barry Manilow, because that’s the only thing she played in the car.
I can actually sing you most of his stuff before 1988. Anyway, this
was about the time MTV came to our neighborhood, and I was hooked.
At the same time, a single and video came out for this song, "Where
the Streets Have No Name," by U2. It became my favorite song, and
has remained so up until today. I’ve probably heard it over a
thousand times and I’m still not sick of it. Then a weird thing
happened. The boy raised on rock got into rap. I kid you not. I
played rap and dance music all day, with only a little affinity for
new rock. The first rap tape I got was Salt n’ Pepa. I don’t
remember the name of the tape, but it had "Push It" on it.
Nostalgia rush, huh? Sixth grade, hormones raging and this was the
song. I’d listen to N.W.A. and D.J. Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh
Prince. I wore out a copy of Eazy-E’s first solo album. I thought I
was so cool with this profane music. At the time, I also sort of
liked all those hair bands. You know, the ones you also listened
to. Warrant, Skid Row and Bon Jovi all sat opposite the rap tapes
in my album collection. I remember liking Def Leppard the most,
with that album, "Hysteria." Either way, my parents weren’t pleased
with my growing music collection (although I had my momentarily
oblivious mom with me as I tried to buy "As Nasty As They Wanna Be"
by 2 Live Crew and The Wherehouse still denied me). But that was
junior high, when music was really shitty. 1989 through the first
half of 1991 just sucked, looking back. Someone asked me if I was
into Jane’s Addiction at the time, and I said no because I thought
that was the dumbest name for a group (obviously not taking Color
Me Badd into consideration). This was when music was really
alternative, but everyone told me KROQ was for freaks and losers,
and when you grow up in the snob-infested North Valley, things are
different. In April 1991, someone handed me a Morrissey tape. I was
like, "Who the fuck is this?" but I put it on and, much to my
amazement, I loved it. Here was this M.C. Hammer freak listening to
this whining brat. I privately listened to KROQ night and day. They
had all the real cool ’80s songs I used to love as a kid! KIIS,
Pirate Radio and Power 106 didn’t play these songs! I started
listening to Siouxsie and the Banshees, New Order and the Smiths. I
got into Depeche Mode big time that summer. I started buying all
this weird music, and my friends made fun of me for it. I began
obsessively watching MTV’s 120 Minutes every Sunday. This is as
close to a real alternative video show as one could get. I remember
when MTV played Nirvana’s "Smells Like Teen Spirit" video for the
first time. I was so glad to be into alternative music before it
got cool. Well, a lot of us were listening to the same music. The
Cure, Morrissey and Depeche Mode were the biggies. I got permission
by my hesitant parents to go to a concert (finally!) and went to
see Morrissey at Pauley Pavilion. Remember? The riot? Anyway, it
was a while before I went to another show, but what an experience.
High school was the time I got emotionally attached to music. I
began to listen to music that would fit my moods. When I was
depressed, I had on the obvious gloom-and-doom rockers (D-Mode, the
Cure) and when I was happy, I put on U2 and Oingo Boingo. In 10th
grade, I became obsessed with U2 and "Achtung Baby" (my fave album
of all time) was on every waking second, even as I slept. I spent
every cent on CDs, not driving until 17 because all my money went
to shows and albums. But I was happy with that! I entered college
with almost 100 CDs. I was footing 3/4 of my college bills,
especially all of the dorm room and book expenses. I was introduced
to Penny Lane. I probably covered their overhead with my purchases.
I had no restraint. As a freshman, I got into the Stone Roses and
Oasis, as well as Ride all over again. Soon I was in a buying
frenzy for a new, obscure kind of music labeled "Britpop." I drove
roommates crazy. I made countless mixes for my friends, asking them
to check out this music. I met more Britpop fans in my sophomore
year and the craziness of music spending moved over to concerts. I
had to borrow money from my college fund to help pay for college,
because I couldn’t control myself. I blasted Pulp and Blur whenever
I could, pissing off the neighbors, even singing along though I
really couldn’t sing. Someone offered me tickets to see Oasis in
Berkeley. Well, the show was on the day of a final. I told my
professor I had "family business" and he agreed to let me take the
test when I got back. So I went to the show. Oasis became my
second-favorite group, and I would buy its import singles like a
mindless zombie. I had to have it all, because it was all so
passionate to me. It even made me want to be a rock star. Now,
where am I? I own about 300 discs, ranging from the Smashing
Pumpkins and the Fugees to Cyndi Lauper and Joy Division. I also
own about a 100 tapes or so. Thanks to this job at The Bruin, my
collection is growing faster than ever, except I don’t pay for it!
I am obsessed with music, to say the least. I cannot live without
it. I often fantasize that I am the leader of a group when I listen
to cool music, and it gives me this rush unlike any other. It is
the soundtrack to every aspect of my life. All I have to do to
remember my emotional state at any point of my life is play certain
songs. I know there are people just like me out there. There are no
support groups for psychos like us. There is no cure, except maybe
dire poverty. Withdrawal is virtual death, worse than scenes in
those movies like "Trainspotting" and "The Basketball Diaries." But
I have come to grips with my condition, and I accept it. It keeps
me going, and I’m even proud of it. You may not be like me, but if
you’re any fan of music, you know how important it can be. In a
world of indifference, alienation, uncertainty and senseless
disrespect for life, music takes you away from all that and makes
it better. It is the friend that is always there. I don’t know
where my life is going beyond the next week. And sometimes that
scares me. But I know I’ll have music no matter where I end up. To
quote Bono, my musical hero, "when I go there, I’ll go there with
you, it’s all I can do." Those nameless streets are sounding better
already. Prevatt is a third-year history student. Mike Prevatt