Remember hearing the name way back when and always being jealous of whoever thought of such a great punny but hip band name like that, until I realized I didn’t have a band or at the time really any way to be in a band that I could have named The Dandy Warhols, and so then I just felt quietly happy for them, whoever they were. And now I see that the idea in my mind of who they were pretty much matches what they seem to be, seem to have been. Yeah, for the most part.
I remember spending the night at Brad’s one night back when I occasionally spent the night at Brad’s like we were in high school or something (it was fun) and seeing the video for the heroin song and obviously being disgusted to the point of intrigue by the video (but now, after just seeing it again for the first time in 13 or something years so digging it I’d put it in a time capsule) but really liking the actual music, so much that it stuck in my head all the way to whenever the file sharing days came along and I… you know… but just for a little while… long enough to we’ll say acquire that song (because you start trying to remember all the stuck in your head songs when you’re acquiring). That’s when my first mental image of them took shape, as in like, their official portrait for the cool museum: That they were mainstream enough for an MTV or whatever video, but hip enough (even if a little lame–leather pants and a tank top and Cure hair are pretty much unacceptable, wacky 1997 video or not) to keep Lugsole-era Brad from skipping over a blurb about them in Alt. Press or something and to maybe include in a mix tape, and to consider them legit contributors to the definition of some sub-genre-ish movement he could work into a conversation with some drummer in a bigger band he respected who Lugsole might open for at American Beat. And then somehow later (maybe through that commercial, but I don’t rightly remember it) I heard and acquired (legally, I think) “Bohemian Like You,” and man, the songs, i.e., these two songs, are just kind of great, musically, lyrically, like, to the point where, like, if this is power-pop, I could see myself becoming a power-pop nerd or something (I’d probably be a pretty good one, ’cause I’ve always dug the stuff that makes me think ‘this is power-pop’) if power pop nerd is something that exists, and if I had time, and a hole in my life to fill. Or whenever I write the chapter covering the early Roaring Zeros.
Oh, and after looking around and wasting the last hour or so, I totally have a Google Image crush on Zia McCabe (I feel so Bohemian like you), who in their turn of the century prime pretty much looks and even just feels exactly like a 1997 Kathleen-Ailecia cocktail (60/40) in every way good and imaginable, as in I’ll totally probably trace her for a character in that novel I’ll write one day (see “chapter covering the early Roaring Zeros”).
Writing 633 words about The Dandy Warhols wasn’t what I came in here to do (it was actually–get this– to post a flyer for a Lungfish show at American Beat I found the other day). But I’ve been Spotifying the songs (actually listened to, like, a million of them while I was writing outside last night until three in the morning, which was fun) and the search form was calling and since I think I’ve finally learned how to blog, just blog, I decided to go for it. Embracing myself. Getting out there. Feels pretty dandy.