Episode 1:  ”The Void”—The Raincoats.

Imagine me, 15 years old, wearing a ratty Nirvana t-shirt (once black, faded to grey) and a black pleated skirt (yes, knee socks, too), while reading the liner notes to Incesticide. Kurt Cobain is revealing his quest for Raincoats albums in London:

In an attempt to satisfy the second part of my quest, I went to the Rough Trade shop and, of course, found no Raincoats record in the bin. I then asked the woman behind the counter about it and she said “well, it happens that I’m neighbors with Anna (member of the Raincoats) and she works at an antique shop just a few miles from here.” So she drew me up a map and I started on my way to Anna’s. 

Sometime later, I arrived at this elfin shop filled with something else I’ve compulsively searched for over the past years - really old fucked up marionette-like wood carved dolls (quite a few hundred years old). Lots of them… I’ve fantasized about finding a ship filled with so many. They wouldn’t accept my credit card but the dolls were really too expensive anyway. Anna was there, however, so I politely introduced myself with a fever-red faced and explained the reason for my intrusion. I can remember her mean boss almost setting me on fire with his glares. She said “well, I may have a few lying around so, if I find one, I’ll send it to you (very polite, very English).” I left feeling like a dork, like I had violated her space, like she probably thought my band was tacky. 

A few weeks later I received a vinyl copy of that wonderfully classic scripture with a personalized dust sleeve covered with xeroxed lyrics, pictures, and all the members’ signatures. There was also a touching letter from Anna. It made me happier than playing in front of thousands of people each night, rock-god idolization from fans, music industry plankton kissing my ass, and the million dollars I made last year. It was one of the few really important things that I’ve been blessed with since becoming an untouchable boy genius.

Well, if Kurt Cobain, the individual single-handedly responsible for my newfound REVOLUTION recommends a band, then it MUST be good.  I WILL own the entire discography of this band.

I am on a quest!  I will find a record by this band called the Raincoats.  They are girls!  I’ve just been turned on to the Riot Grrl movement by a new subscription to Sassy (purchased with babysitting money), so I’ve decided to be a real feminist and listen to as many girl bands as possible. Also, I’ve quit shaving my armpits, which I must keep hidden from my mom at all costs…she’s so uptight, that I am forbidden to leave the house without a bra.

I can’t drive and I live in the middle of nowhere.  The truth is I won’t get my license until I’m almost 21.  I offer $5 to the boyfriend of a decidedly uncool friend to drive me to the mall so I can find a Raincoats cd or tape or ANYTHING.   He’s desperate for money for gas, so he takes me up on my offer.  I’m forced to listen to Snow or something in the car, but I’m too excited to care.

In the end, none of the three record stores at the York Galleria Mall have it in stock.  I’m forced to order it from a Pantera shirt-wearing clerk at the final record store, for an astounding $25!  That’s five hours of baby sitting gone, but well worth it, I guess, because it’s being imported from the UK.

Three weeks later the CD arrives, and I have to beg my mom to drive me to the mall.  She agrees to do this, but only because she wants to buy a dress for the homecoming dance that she is forcing me to attend.  ”It wouldn’t kill you to try to act like a normal high school girl.”  After much coercion, I agree to a black  not-so-awful dress.  I go home and listen to “The Void” on repeat, surprised that cool bands can feature the violin.   Maybe I won’t drop out of orchestra after all…

Alternative track:  “In Love”—It has graced many of my mixtapes over the years.