The Best Songs of 1992 by willtopsmusictv
1992 :: The Year In Music
There are many years I could christen “the year when everything changed”, and in significant ways that would be true, that said, 1992 was the year where everything changed — in big ways — for me.
In 1992 I became a parent, giving birth to my amazing daughter Julia in the middle of January. I was young, very young, maybe not “teenage pregnancy” young, but to me, at 23, I felt so very young. I had only just moved out into the world the year prior, and was still sorting through who I was and what I wanted to do with my life.
It was an overwhelming year, fraught with heavy emotions and the push and pull of a relationship that was unraveling. All that said though, the presence of my daughter in my life shifted my priorities, my focus and my inner strengths. Music and my daughter really held me together and helped the mold begin to form in who I would become. The world looked so different through my eyes then, with her eyes looking up at mine.
I did not watch a lot of television that year, though I did manage to see a few live music shows, and saw a lot of movies. I rented a ton of movies, too, wearing out my Hollywood Video card as I filled in the sleepless nights that new life brings. I would do a little road tripping, too, mostly back and forth to San Francisco.
As usual, it was the music that got me through.
So, what exactly was I listening to? Here are my remembered Top 10 from 1992, what were some of yours?
* another rough year to narrow down only 10 songs!
“I blame you for the moonlit sky.”
We all had blame to throw and consequence to play tug-of-war between us with. The truth was we were scared, too scared to even say that we were scared, too scared to grasp hands and hold on to each other. Looking back it isn’t the big things I would change, it is the small ones, the perspectives and reactions that burned beneath our skin.
“The photograph on the dashboard taken years ago,
turned around backwards so the windshield shows.
Every street light reveals a picture in reverse,
still it’s so much clearer.”
The rear view mirror reflected her sleepy face, her cries finally quieted after we drove through the middle of the night, the three of us, seeking solace and calm. We parked by the ocean and exhaled deeply, for a moment connecting together, as a family, as a togetherness, as a “we’re in this together”. I made wishes on the stars and the full, full moon that it could feel like this forever.
“I think of you when you’re sleeping,
of all the secrets that you’re keeping.”
I sat up at night watching everyone around me sleep. I wondered what their dreams would say, and how it would differ to the waking exchange of words. And, I wondered if I would ever be able to really sleep again.
“Do you want to build a world with our lives?
You better soon decide,
or you can forget it.”
When it was just he and I it was simpler, and the doubts that swam around, they were easier to shelve for later, to put off, to close our eyes to. But now everything had changed, and I needed to know if we were going to be together, if we were going to stick it out, if you were in it for the long haul. You vacillated, you changed your mind again and again, you came and went, damaging me more every time — after awhile I just wanted to scream “either stay or go, but please decide.”
“Cause when you sleep at night,
they don’t hear your cries,
in your own world.”
This song reminds me of driving around with one of my friends, somewhat aimlessly, music playing and our conversation ebbing and flowing between silence and “what am I going to do?” contemplations. Reality was closing in, as was the truths revealed that had been hidden from me. Part of me wanted to hang on for dear life, and another part of me wanted to run, run away.
“If I make it through today,
I’ll know tomorrow not to leave my feelings out on display.”
My first introduction to Evan Dando was in 1992, and oh my stars did I crush hard on him. I would daydream about driving to Joshua Tree with him and his guitar, he would play and sing to me while we drove into the desert, never turning back. Maybe Juliana could come along, too, and we could start a band playing only truck stops and diners.
“I just can’t stay here every yesterday,
like keep on acting out the same,
the way we act out,
every way to smile,
and make-believe we never needed,
any more than this.”
No more pretense, no more pretending, we sat face-to-face trying to decide where we go from here. We had done the whole break-up and make-up dance for so long, and we would do it for a long time still. All I really wanted, right then, that night, was to say enough, but I didn’t, I still pretended to want to hold on.
“Take me high on your silent wings,
and I swear,
I’ll do anything for you.”
I saw them play this live about two months after becoming a Mom, a birthday present, my first night out. The music blew through me, sweeping me up, making me feel temporarily free. I wanted to lose myself in it, to be lost in it, to be carried far away with it.
“Come dowsed in mud,
soaked in bleach,
as I want you to be;
as a trend,
as a friend,
as an old memory.”
This whole album, I can’t even begin to say what it meant to me. The emotion to it, the anger and the passion and the disarray and the loneliness, I clung to it, sang to it, made some of it anthems. I felt so alone so much of the time that year.
but can I be you for awhile?”
More than Nevermind though, Tori’s Little Earthquakes came my way and felt like my diaries and my inner feelings and thoughts and secretes were not only understood, but sang out loud. I felt so alone, but with this album I felt it less. I felt understood, I felt stronger, and I felt like my voice was suddenly, finally, on its way.