A few weeks ago, Joel was mimicking a guitar riff that my inner mid-90’s angsty teenager gland instantly picked up – Zero. And that spurred an instant Smashing Pumpkins sing a-long ROCK A-LONG, and then I found myself listening to all their albums on Spotify as I cleaned house.

(enthralling, yes.)
It made me think, though. I was 12 when I “borrowed” Siamese Dream from my brother Shayne (I still have it, beeteedubs), and 13 when I asked my dad to get me Meloncollie and the Infinite Sadness. I was on the too-young-to-be-angsty side of the scale during the hey day of The Smashing Pumpkins, and here’s baby Joel, who probably was in his Teletubbies or Bananas in Pajamas phase during said hey day. And yet, here we were – singing along rocking out to Bullet with Butterfly Wings and getting all wistful to Thirty-Three and 1979. 

It also made me think, what’s Billy Corgan up to lately?

Because the last time I checked, he looked like this:

and then this:

But this is him now:

Holy dad bod, Billy.

Finally, it made me think, fuck I’m old*.

And then I thought of perspective – image how my parents felt when I was 10 and knew every word to The Doors Greatest Hits. And then I thought of another 90’s gem that I was too young to be included in the demographic for:

Oh hey, Clueless is 21 years old. Jesus.**

 

*No surprise there – everything makes me feel old now. I didn’t realise that one the scariest parts of being in my 30’s is that everything I enjoyed as a kid now has antique status.
**See?