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9 june 1997

11:14 p.m.

Dear diary, Sometimes I'm such a ditz, even I'd hate hanging out with myself. Derek picked me up after work, as we arranged this morning to see "Con Air" tonight. At 5 p.m., though, I was thoroughly exhausted, and downright homicidal over a couple of my coworkers and their apparent inability to alphabetize. So, he settled for a quiet dinner at Wisteria (the vegetable tempura was heavenly) before dropping me off at home. I mumbled an apology for my incoherence, dragged myself upstairs, fell through the door and only partially landed on my junk-mail covered futon. Moments before the smell of cheap glossy stock and envelope glue lifted me to dreamland, I realized my car was still downtown. So, I paged Derek -- who drove all the way home before calling back -- and mumbled something like "car... town... need... morning... help." He selflessly drove back into the traffic maelstrom that is Waikiki in June, picked me up, and zipped me back to my car. He asked if I wanted to do anything, since after all I was still up and out, but I politely declined, mumbed "I love you" (it came out "wawu") and wove drowsily back home. Back up the stairs, back through the door... but at least this time I made it to my bed. I was out before I'd kicked off my second shoe. Then, inexplicably, I woke up at 8:30 p.m. feeling wholly energized. I felt so awake, I wondered for a moment if I was dreaming or having some out-of-body experience. I immediately rang Derek to see if we could catch the late show, but he wasn't home. I paged him, then plopped down in front of the tube. Suddenly, the "Pure Moods" commercial came on -- the one for that new age compilation CD featuring Enigma, Enya, Deep Forest and other usual suspects. Now, I already had most of the songs on "Pure Moods" in my collection, either on their original albums or other compilations (a lot of them, in fact, were already in a UK "Synthetiseur" collection I bought years ago). But the mystic power of The Nap put me in such a state of delirium, I decided I needed "Pure Moods" anyway. Twenty minutes later, I was standing at a listening station at Tower, skipping backward and forward through the tracks to see if it was worth it. It did have a Michael Nyman piece out of "The Piano," but not the one I really wanted. It also had the "X Files" theme, but only a corny dance dub. Similarly, most of the other songs were slightly souped up versions of the original... different, but not neccessarily better. I wandered around the store while I mulled over the $12.99 purchase. I looked over both "Chemical Brothers" albums, listened to parts of "AMP" (MTV's first major foray into the electronic music movement) and the "Lost Highway" soundtrack... I began to feel uneasy about the sudden, massive popularity of the genre, once relegated to anorexic ravers and geeks. But, figuring the trend was still in its early stages, I decided to get "Pure Moods" -- duplication and bad remixes be damned. Besides, I thought, it was on sale. Then I checked the rack. It was on sale because it was in the top 25 selling albums this week. Not only that, it was second. A shoyu bunny elbowed past me and grabbed a copy. I headed straight for the door. I got back home to find a message from Derek saying he was sorry he missed me and that if I called by 10 p.m. we might be able to make the last show at the Waikiki Three. It was twenty past. I called him back, and I mostly whimpered at him about how many times we could've gone out after all if I wasn't such a moron. He had to go to bed, so it was just the JVC and me again. When the now unavoidable "Chemical Brothers" video came on, I turned the TV off. I don't know why massive popularity bugs me so much, but it does. Part of it, undoubtedly, is because I'm an elitist, rabid counterculturalist (at least when it suits me -- I'm a hypocrite, too). I like what I like, but if there's the faintest possibility that someone'd think I was following the herd, I'd rather pretend to not like it. Another side of me, however, is simply pissed because techno -- like grunge and countless other music styles -- is simply the next fertile field to plunder as far as corporate rock is concerned. After the geeks are completely supplanted by artists molded entirely by media bigwigs... after any remaining trace of genuine artistry and talent is either bought out, sucked dry, or mowed over, They will just move on to the next fringe genre that can be easily parlayed into "the new new music of the next generation." Greg (currently in Texas playing with toys most webmasters have wet dreams about) once predicted international music -- Celtic, specifically, but anything "multicultural" will do -- would succeed "alternative" music as the industry's cash cow. The Chemical Brothers and The Orb got picked instead. But don't worry. Loreena McKennit's number will be up in no time.