AGING BRINGS WITH IT A NUMBER OF STAR-tling indignities and diffcult internal mono-logues, and while we have our elders, decades of American literature, and countless two-guystalkin’ podcasts to help guide us, there are some things each of us has to face alone.
What I am saying is that I did not expect to be the guy who rocked a little too hard at the Toad the Wet Sprocket show.
I wasn’t the only one. There is something in the air about that medium-mope, wounded-dude mid-’90s music moment: Counting Crows, Collective Soul, Soul Asylum. Somehow I’m hearing it more as an adjective. The soul-patched soundtrack of alternative radio, a revolution that was ignited at least partly by our disdain for classic rock, has become our new classic rock.
