Snobbin: Beautiful Trash in the Pop Culture Gutter

I was walking through the needles today and thinking about fall, a season that used to be one of my favorites. Recently, I have found fall less appealing, probably because I am not used to the southern changes in season. I miss certain trees, and I miss the snow.  Watching the world turn gray but never seeing snow is distracting and strange. I never thought I would miss snow as much as I do, but fall affects me more positively if there is a snowfall that covers the brown leaves and points to change. Here in the south, I have to wait longer for this renewal as the world stays brown until spring arrives.  I should get used to these different seasonal shifts. The seasons change, but they are not as evident to someone who grew up with four distinct seasons with vast temperature changes. In Wisconsin, you get used to shifts in the weather that are shocking and quick. Winter is long and snowy and feels so different from the southern fall, which is not as cold or different from the s...

Reading Palookaville. Arkansas past midyear. I'm waiting for fall to begin. Far away from winter snows, Metaphorically and literally. In the enduring humidity, I turn away. I'd give anything for a cold rain or a sad autumn day. I think I just wrote lyrics to an emo song, circa 1996. Don't hold that against me. 2020 needs to end.

It's fall again, so that means that the music around here slows down and gets decidedly folky, if not more rootsy. That's not to say there isn't plenty of metal and rock and roll on the playlist, but some of the slower songs get priority. Hayden's Everything I Long For is one of those singer-songwriter records that pulses anew on each listen. His simple guitar playing and everyman gruff vocals lend a veracity to his simple tales of love, loss, and boredom. While he has grown as a songwriter since its 1995 release date, the simple power of his unadorned vocals and aching lyrical approach make Everything one of his greatest artistic statements. His song craft has improved, but he has never bettered the album's timeless exploration of pain. Many people remember the single "Bad As They Seem," which put the Canadian singer on the map, an exploration of the narrator's hopeless unrequited love for the women he can't ever date -- a sixteen year old gir...

There is nothing quite like digging in old closets, through shirts and sweaters like past shrift. A confession of sorts is in the hem and stitch of each garment. Myriad stains on white shirts mingle with frayed collars and dust bunnies. The shelves look forlorn in half-light. Those old clothes look alone even in abundance, each telling a different story about the minuscule and the larger. Moments are defined by those old shirts. So are basic daily decisions. Some are transitory and momentary. They are gone in months. They may fit wrong or remind us of a lost love. Perhaps they fall apart in multiple washes or bleach out in the sun. Some hang much longer, years even, before they are folded and put in drawers or donated to become part of other lives. They mean something more to us. Something as simple as comfort, as undefined as fashion, as amiable as a cool slogan or pattern. These things matter to us as we scan the tired folds. A new shirt is too clean, too loose, too inanimate. Not ...

That time of year is creeping up again. The leaves are starting to change, the wasps are buzzing by windows, and the temperature has yet to drop. Indian summer lays heavy upon us. Like a veil, it keeps our minds on the summer, even as preparations for fall are made. As the days become shorter and the nights become longer, I change my attitude towards music. Often a complete genre shift is necessary. I begin listening to fall records, which tend to be not so different from my rainy day ones -- the tempos slow, the lyrics tend to be more poetic, if not more suggestive. They recall going back to school, good cups of hot cocoa in darkened kitchens, stretching out in the cool grass, bonfires ablaze; these images help us transition to Winter, when we are so often stuck in the house. Whereas Winter, especially January through March, finds me listening to heavier music, fall is perfect for slow and brooding jams. Literate lyrics and story-tellers mark the change of seasons. Autumnal rec...