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Concrete Blonde was one of those bands I discovered on my own. They had a sound like nothing I’d heard until then, and it resonated with a lonely proto-goth in Oklahoma. I was absolutely thrilled when Bloodletting was re-released a few years ago with the French chorus version of the title song.
Now it’s twenty-five years since I discovered the band, and I’m letting them play while I prep the house for the Trick or Read book event. I had to stop and write this, wanted to share what their music meant to me and how it’s changed for and with me.
Mexican Moon was their last album that I recalled (barring a greatest hits and B-sides compilation a few years later), and it came out when things with my first love were really coming to an explosive end ( I was nineteen, half redneck and half drama queen, there was no other possible outcome),so the CD always held some slices of bitterness for me.
It got a nice redemption a few years ago, when I heard it in Greece. We were in Dimitsana, having breakfast on a quiet Sunday morning and for some reason they were playing Mexican Moon at a low background level. I realized I had outgrown so much of my anger, so much of the frustration I’d felt when the album first came out. And though many of the songs themselves are angry, I was able to just enjoy the music.
Now that day in Greece is a memory, and a good one. I’ve moved past it, and even past the relationship that took me to Dimitsana in the first place.
I’m not that kid anymore, that broken ghost of a boy, but I still enjoy his music from time to time.
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It’s interesting that you associate Mexican Moon with your first relationship, because I associate Bloodletting with mine. Mine didn’t end well either. Even afterwards–especially afterwards–I felt like I was singing Joey to him. For some reason I was thinking about Joey recently and meant to try listening to it again.
It’s weird thinking about that relationship now, because it happened back in Kansas City and so few of the things I think about now are from that time of my life. But I guess that makes sense because I left KC in 1997. This confrontation with the passage of time doesn’t make me feel old so much as strong. I’ve lived so much since then and I survived all of it. Even strong enough to listen to Bloodletting again. I should do that; it really is an amazing album.
I love when music can make you remember a great feeling or moment you had. This post made me remember when I was 13 and discovered that walking down the street listening to my walkman made the world so much better and awesome.
Also, I tagged you in the Blogger Recognition Awards.
My Post Here
xoxo,
Kat