I’m Katja, a software Engineer with Automattic. My current efforts are focused on Gravatar, and this here is a place for my thoughts.
I’m not the only one nostalgic for the sound of the late ’90s and early ’00s, and something that always surprises me is when more recent music (relatively speaking) captures not just the sound but the feel of that point in time.
That period leading into 2004, particularly, is seared into my mind as a feeling.
Have you ever heard of the 30-year nostalgia cycle? It’s an interesting suggestion. Though it’s not quite been 30 years, I find myself attracted to the sound of the latter ’90s and early ’00s. Here, Bush contemplates (their) youth from a mature perspective.
I was so much younger then
Thought life would never end
What’s that cynicism often attributed to Shaw? “Youth is wasted on the young.” Surely that’s unfair, but underappreciated? As it would be inappropriate to suggest indiscriminately that the mature despise wisdom.
Sometimes, I want to put on a song and fade away. Here, the Manic’s bassist, Nicky Wire, speaks of depression and the power of sleep. And like sleep, there’s something about this song I find relaxing to listen to.
Now that I think about it more, I must have first heard the Manic Street Preachers around 2004. When I went looking for them after hearing There by the Grace of God, I immediately came across Lifeblood, which contains the track above — The Love of Richard Nixon.
I’ve always found this album to be remarkably cohesive, and my discovery of it and the band’s broader catalogue coincided with a darker period of my life. But as it was at the point of discovery, The Love of Richard Nixon was simply a catchy tune.
And it was true what they said. I didn’t know about Nixon’s National Cancer Act of 1971.
I remember the first time I heard the Manic Street Preachers. It was the summer, I think, and it must have been the early ’00s. We were in the car, and my parents were listening to a CBC show called The Vinyl Cafe on the radio. Stuart McLean was a family favourite, and even now I can hear his voice. I can’t help but think how instantly recognisable it is, both in tone and cadence.
This particular day must have been a Sunday afternoon when new recordings of The Vinyl Cafe would air. Maybe we were on one of our after-church drives. My parents preferred the 9 AM church service, and once it was finished, they’d go for coffee, and we’d all go for a drive (we kids didn’t have much choice in the matter!).
Memory is a strange thing. I don’t remember anything else about that day, including the rest of that particular recording of The Vinyl Cafe. All I remember is a song. The Manic Street Preachers aren’t well known in Canada, and at the time, I wondered if they were a Christian band. After all, the song was called There By the Grace of God, and the lyrics stuck with me:
And all the drugs in the world
Can’t save us from ourselves
Victims with the saddest hearts
Passing by the grace of God
There by the grace of GodWith grace we will suffer
With grace we shall recover
There by the grace of God
There by the grace of God
I wanted to hear more, and little did I know just how much I’d lean into the Manics over the coming years. And oh, they aren’t a Christian band.