Keep Art Alive :: Art by Catherine Brooks
“And she can’t live without her radio.
She likes to sleep with it turned on,
she says that she never sleeps alone.”
Dramarama’s Hi-Fi Sci-Fi has been singing in my ear all morning. This album I had once on vinyl, then as a cassette, and later a CD that was lost in moves, lending to friends, or more than likely in my financial downfall in Chicago when I sold my music collection. Whatever the reason, it was one of those albums I hope to replace, hopefully on vinyl, to listen to on my record player that I am waiting on to arrive in the post.
I was in my last year of high school when I discovered Dramarama, buying both Cinéma Vérite, and Box Office Bomb, at Music Market one late afternoon. I saw them play in Laguna Beach on Halloween the next year, me in the audience pushing up close to the front row barrier, dressed in my Rocky Horror Magenta get-up. I saw them again years later, in downtown Los Angeles, sitting farther back, though I longed to run up and get lost in the fray of the pit. They became one of my bands, the kind that you tell everyone about, and become completely passionate over. Looking back, I cannot help but recall that it was one of the first connections I had with one of the big loves and losses of my life, and why they are sometimes hard to listen to.
Incredible takes me back to the days I first lived on my own. My first apartment, there was always music playing and people coming over. I could not afford a television, so it was my stereo that I kept on all day, and all night. Music was what helped soothe my insomnia, and the radio quite often became part of my every night lullaby.
I love the contents of this love song, the simplicity, the day-to-day of it, the naivete. It is soaked through to the core with the trappings of young love, and those days of living on your own for the very first time. It makes me smile, sigh, and remember.
Incredible :: Dramarama