YOU ARE HERE: zharth.net / Zharth's Music Log / Week 138 (The Nineties)
(Originally finalized on May 9, 2025)
Preface: If you'll indulge me, we're going to do something completely different this week. I probably don't need to tell you this, but to demonstrate how utterly out of date my music taste is, I have a playlist of songs titled "Modern"... which consists of contemporary music from the '90s - songs that I remember listening to in junior/senior high school.
It's hard to believe, but there was a time in my life when I had little interest in music. Although I realize it's a matter of taste, to a large extent, the popular music of my day just didn't move me. I related it to what my peers were listening to, and as a social outcast, I couldn't identify with that. It wasn't until I started listening to the local classic rock station, hearing songs that had been planted in my subconscious by my parents from infancy, that something awakened within me. In particular, I was blown away by the instrumental virtuosity on display.
In retrospect, I can respect the accomplishments that were made by the grunge and alt rock movements - if from a detached perspective. But it was hearing Robert Plant moan while Jimmy Page's fingers zoomed up and down the fretboard that took me to another place, another time. But that's what the rest of this music log is about. This week I want to share just a few songs from the '90s that managed to break through my defenses, that I look back on fondly as reflecting a time capsule period in my adolescent development.
Monday: No Doubt - Don't Speak [Tragic Kingdom, 1995]
Comments: When I hear this song, I get a contact high from my adolescence. Performed by No Doubt - featuring Gwen Stefani from a time before she was known (for better or worse) for her hip-hop crossover hit, Hollaback Girl - it's a melodic ballad with soulful lyrics. "I know just what you're sayin'. So please stop explainin'. Don't tell me, 'cause it hurts."
Tuesday: Garbage - Push It [Version 2.0, 1998]
Comments: Even in the age of grunge and industrial music, when "weird" was practically the default aesthetic for music videos, this song made an impression on me with its heavy, eerie vibe. Can you believe that this band, featuring Scottish-born singer Shirley Manson (her real name - unlike Marilyn Manson), performed the main theme to the Bond film The World Is Not Enough? "This is the noise that keeps me awake. My head explodes and my body aches."
Wednesday: Fiona Apple - Criminal [Tidal, 1996]
Comments: I must have hit puberty the year this music video came out (I was 13 in the summer of '97), because I can remember the feelings that stirred inside of me watching Fiona Apple sing "I've been a bad, bad girl" while writhing around a filthy apartment in (and out of) her underwear. It's lurid, it's voyeuristic, and I'm pretty sure it was a bad influence on my developing sexuality. But I loved it. And I still do. For a long time I considered it a guilty pleasure, but these days I've come to terms with it. I have no regrets. "What I need is a good defense, 'cause I'm feelin' like a criminal."
Thursday: Alanis Morissette - You Oughta Know [Jagged Little Pill, 1995]
Comments: For an album (not just a song, but a whole album) from the '90s to get my attention, you know it has to be something special. And Jagged Little Pill is one of the greatest breakup revenge albums of all time. Alanis Morissette conjures a raw and relatable frustration bordering on outright ferocity, and it's so cathartic to listen to. You can't even reduce it down to a single track (although Ironic was an astronomical hit). But for me, You Oughta Know pushes all the right buttons. "I'm here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away."
Friday: Madonna - Frozen [Ray of Light, 1998]
Comments: I was too young to appreciate Madonna's rise to prominence in the '80s, but by the late '90s, she was having a bit of a resurgence. I remember seeing the music video for the title track to Ray of Light on MTV, but it was another song from that album that resonated with me. It's a dark, moody piece, with Madonna shrouded in black, surrounded by crows in a twilit wasteland. I still think it would sound good with a soulful guitar playing the hummed melody. "You're frozen when your heart's not open."
Saturday: Mariah Carey - My All [Butterfly, 1997]
Comments: Hailed as one of the most technically proficient singers in recorded music history, Mariah Carey debuted in 1990 and proceeded to release a record-breaking string of chart-topping hits. But I'll always remember her from her breathy, R&B-tinged period. Butterfly's lead single, Honey, hit MTV with a tongue-in-cheek homage to Bond movies that was as funny as it was sexy. But My All conjures an even more romantic atmosphere, with Mariah in wet clothes, performing vocal acrobatics on the beach at night. "I'd give my all to have just one more night with you."
Sunday: Pearl Jam - Do The Evolution [Yield, 1998]
Comments: It occurs to me that this whole list so far has consisted solely of female artists and bands with female singers. Not that there's anything wrong with that. (I was going through puberty at the time). But we'll finish with something that could certainly be described as a straight-up rocker. I could take or leave Pearl Jam in the '90s (and this song was a bit of a departure from the band's other hits), but I did always love this song - with its cynical lyrics, and the brilliantly creative animated music video, co-directed by Todd McFarlane. "Why? Because - it's evolution, baby!"
Honorable Mentions: The '90s playlist I put together has at least twice as many songs as I've shared here (and I've considered putting together a "disc two"), so I'm wrestling with the temptation to stretch this out for a second week. Aside from Natalie Imbruglia lying naked on the floor, Brandy & Monica fighting over a boy, Nine Inch Nails getting explicit, and Soundgarden's apocalyptic imagery, the pop/rock (and alt/grunge) cliches embodied by Britney Spears in a school uniform, Christina Aguilera's genie phase, as well as Nirvana and Radiohead and Alice in Chains et al. (I can't possibly represent an entire generation of music in just seven days) represent diminishing returns of personal attachment. But for a few straggling exceptions, which I'll note here: the hypnotic trance of Godsmack's Voodoo; the righteous anger of Orgy's Blue Monday; and the unexpected hopefulness in Bush's Comedown. And that's as good a place as any to call it a decade.