How long has it been since you've listened to this album? Probably a while, eh? Did you forget how good it is?
I had forgotten how good it is. The other day I wanted to listen to some music as I bathed and prepared for my day. As I've mentioned earlier my computer is slightly borked so that option was out. I have a large stereo in my bedroom (my room is too crowded and needs redecorating), but the CD player doesn't work. The stereo was a Christmas gift in 1993, so it had a good run. In case you need to know, the first CDs I bought for my new stereo were Led Zeppelin IV and The Doors self-titled debut.
Anyway, I was digging through the fourth drawer down, where I still have some old cassettes. I wanted to find the White Album because I had been listening to The Grey Album a lot lately and had a powerful craving for the White Album. Incidentally, I bought the White Album one summer after riding my bike to Raspberry Records, which no longer exists. Then I headed over to Blockbuster and rented the movie Yellow Submarine. A Cherry Coke was probably involved as well. This was back in... I'm gonna say 1993. That was a big year for me, musically.
Back to 2007! I couldn't find the White Album, but I did find "...And Out Come the Wolves." Guess where I bought that cassette? Raspberry Records. Probably closer to 1995 of 1996. My sophomore year of High School. Around this time my outward fashion sense was transitioning from classic rock t-shirts to a more ska/punk oriented mode.
How I loved this album! I remember seeing the video for "Time Bomb" and being so excited. Ska music on MtV! Wild.
2007: I pop the tape in my seldom used tape player and remember what a pain-in-ass cassettes are. So hard to find the track you want. Nevertheless, I was pleased to find that this album still holds up. It's got just the right amount of raw punk snarl, but at the same time it's just professional and polished enough to be accessible.
There's another Rancid tape I have that I can't listen to anymore. "Let's Go." It's a fine record, but for some reason it brings up all sorts of bad memories. Nothing specific really, just a vague notion. Every time I hear it I'm reminded of lonely Saturday nights in January, the wind howling, sweeping away any remnants of the last snowfall, leaving exposed the muddy dead grass on the islands that divide different sections of an oil-stained parking lot. I hate that feeling.
By the way, I actually have spent some time hanging on the corner of 52nd and Broadway, but nothing cool happened.