I'm a Hopeless Indie Guy

I cringed at the track listing for Adam Kotsko's new mix CD, and then faced my depression in what I'm writing now. I'm not facing it completely, though, because I'm too scared to post it at the Pickle. I'm sort of hiding out at The Tarantula, if I can call Jason's blog that, if I can call him Jason.

This woman, right -- this genius, actually -- actually rolled over in my bed and, facing me, said, "Are you an indie rock guy?" She said that to me! She said it coyly, as if to say, "It doesn't matter how you respond. I mean, I'm already in your bed."

But my thoughts started raging. I think she asked, believe it or not, because when we snuck into my bedroom, my roommate thoughtfully started blasting Wilco's album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. That was conscientious of him; he wanted to dampen any noises he feared might come from, you know, the act of lovemaking. But then I sang a long a bit, because it's true what they say: I am an American aquarium drinker. I do assassin down the avenue.

And then she asked me was I an indie rock guy and it wasn't hard to answer, "No, I am not," because, after all, I know who The Arcade Fire are but I don't know what they sound like. And you can't be an indie rock guy nowadays without feeling something about Trans Am, but I just don't. I've tried and I don't. So "no," I said, and I meant it.

But the truth is, I don't "have" anything else. I am not well versed in Brazilian music, which of course is what you have to be into if you were once an indie rock guy but aren't anymore. I really like OS Mutantes; I mean, I'm not insane -- but I don't own any of their stuff on colored vinyl. You know I'm crazy about Daniel Johnston but he's as insane-guy-tape-trader as I get. I can name two songs I really like by Aaron Copeland, though.

But when it comes down to playing music while painting a wall, I don't know which Thelonious Monk record to put in, or if I'm going to get made fun of for playing a '60s dance album from Tahiti. I do know that if I play Sufjan Stevens someone is going to say, "This music is so sad" and I'll go, "Yeah, but listen to this build." And if I play Pistolero everyone will talk about their first time listening to the Pixies.

It's like Camus said in his posthumous novel: "You love [indie rock]. It's all you have." And so, I mean, ick. But I guess I have to forgive Adam Kotsko his list, don't I? I do, but with the admonition to, please, get really crazy about Braziliam music and then send me a mix tape.