The Breeders – No Aloha

If you were a song, what would you be? If you say any easy digestible top 40 song, I’m fighting the urge to judge you right now. (Unless it’s Drake, cause there’s a reason half the people in my building blast him in the middle of the night.) But really, I’m just talking about the songs that speak to you in each and every sense. I’m talking about a song that’s the complete package. If you could, you would go elope with the damn song. That’s me right now; I’m having an affair–with one, great song. And I know there’s plenty of fish in the sea of music, but unlike other songs I dig, it never gets old. It’s always in the back of my mind, a frequent rendezvous to keep the love fresh. Okay, sure, this was a metaphor that ran a bit too long but I gotta say, for a 20 year-old song that I knew since my early days in high school, “No Aloha” by The Breeders still ignites a spark in my heart.

Currently I’m still imprisoned in teenage angst. Will the shackles release me? Not looking likely since I moved to NYC. But grunge has become home for me. Teen angst suddenly feels, alright. (Is it angst or indifference? Let’s go with indifference for the sake of contextual emphasis.)

Although we still see the remains of alternative rock here and there–thanks to post punk revival bands The Strokes, Interpol, or even The White Stripes, when The Breeders released Last Splash, in 1993, it was the beginning of the end for grunge music.

When I heard “No Aloha” for the first time. I felt a tidal wave of understanding. This song gets me, no! This song is me. Having been raised by a pack of paradoxes, I always felt very “unique.” Throw any kind of stereotype on me–I can drop kick it in the neck. For example, I am a first generation American–and a military child. I’m a mad scientist, and yet an artist. I am a Caribbean girl raised by Las Vegas. “No Aloha” embodies contradictory elements in it’s sound and the instrumental is what hooked me. The short-but-sweet song features a wicked baseline ringing a tropical tune with against a grunge backdrop. Being a coconut girl and leather jacket enthusiast, the music itself screams, “Jalen! Listen up, this is your anthem!”

Bassist Kim Deal sweeps in with a dainty voice as she sings about choosing to stay with the rock scene, instead of taking on an average life (she compares motherhood to a “mental freeze.”) Being a college freshman has made this song especially relevant for me. Not that it’s really about the second coming of the baby boom (have you looked around, everyone is getting pregnant!) and my lack of motherhood (phew), but something else entirely.

What happens when a theater major, a music major, and an arts major walk into a bar? They get ridiculed for choosing to enhance skills in their passions. #AntiJoke I think this is what Kim was trying to point out; becoming a part of the crowd is a mental freeze. As of right now, I’m busting my ass to be a double major for film and music business–and happy for doing it. When you’re passionate, you’re devoted; and when you’re devoted, you excel. So in simple terms, no worries here! Sue me, mom!

So film majors, grab your coffee, music majors, wake up earlier, and hell–even liberal arts students, whatever you do, stand up with me!  And repeat after me: I’m too creative to go work 9 to 5 in something I hate. Let’s chant it at anthemic levels. Maybe we’ll be scoffed at by the majority. But those silent people… in their heads they’re standing up and slow clapping.

So just like Kim, in “No Aloha,” I’m picking the road, less traveled and somehow more admired. I’m going with rock promoter.

Thanks also to my dad, a happily retired artist and musician. One half smile and subtle nod to you, Bossman.

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