// Category Archive for: We Miss The Nineties

Sleaze-O-Rama: Remembering the Halcyon Days of the Daytime Talk Show

By Jesse Roth

The conclusion of Oprah‘s 25-year run on daytime television was heralded as the end of an era in several respects. Never again are we likely to see a media figure with as much power and widespread appeal as the mighty O. She was the figurehead of a special daytime ruling class, one that was seemingly overthrown by changing tastes long before she was willing to abdicate the throne. Despite her attempts to distance herself from her early years, enough people remember Oprah as a proud member (along with the likes of Geraldo Rivera and Morton Downey, Jr.) of the inaugural class of daytime sleaze, perverting a genre once owned by the legendary Phil Donahue. Though the daytime talk show genre is still kicking around the airwaves, its power and impact has been greatly reduced, crushed by the one-two punch of reality television and social media.

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Skating The Edge With Aeon Flux

By Kai Shuart

At first blush, television seems a grossly distorted lens through which to examine philosophical questions. Every television show that comes through our tablets, computers, and (decreasingly) television sets is so overblown, and, well, downright Hollywood, how can it be the catalyst for examining the deeper questions of life? It’s entertainment; it’s only supposed to hang around between the time the opening credits start and the closing credits end.
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Irish Folk With A Twist: Frank Tovey and The Pyros, Grand Union

By Emily Carney

Starting in the late 1980s, Frank Tovey (also known as Fad Gadget, whose music and general adventures were chronicled in a past Popshifter article) departed from avant-garde synth-pop, and started making Irish folk records.

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No More Heroes: Happy Mondays/Psychedelic Furs

By Emily Carney

The Ritz, Ybor City (Tampa) FL
September 29, 2009

When I discovered that the Happy Mondays were coming to town (shortly after the Gogol Bordello War of 2009), I was beyond psyched. I was a massive fan of this band in the early 1990s. While my fellow middle-school-aged peers in Florida were jamming along to the sounds of Stevie B. and Taylor Dayne, my musical world was fully entrenched in “Madchester”—with bands like the Stone Roses, the Inspiral Carpets, and of course, the Mondays. So one can imagine my excitement as I commuted an hour away from my apartment in St. Petersburg, Florida, to see the band; I even momentarily forgot that the Psychedelic Furs were also on the bill that evening.
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Bloody Sheets, Bad Sweaters, and Broken Hearts: The Wisdom Of Crocodiles

By Jemiah Jefferson

Jude Law, tasty son-of-a-bitch.

Originally this was going to be a gushing review of a very beautiful, very sexy vampire film that I remember loving the hell out of, but hadn’t seen in a very long time—ten years or so. Within 30 minutes of rewatching, though, this became much more of an exercise in “the golden glow of memory masking the flaws of fact.” Filmmaking, vampire movies, and I were all in somewhat different eras in 1999; we’ve all come a long way, and The Wisdom Of Crocodiles hasn’t really kept up. Unjustly obscure, the film also suffers from having been titled Immortality for its US release, and the shitty production values used when slapping its American title on the screen makes it look like it’s just a very expensive episode of the new Outer Limits.
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Rick Springfield

By Less Lee Moore

[This piece was originally published in Smack Dab Fanzine #4, September 1995. With the exception of typos I may have corrected, all of the original text and formatting remain the same. I have also scanned the original artwork.—Ed.]

Everyone whether they like it or not, remembers Rick Springfield. After all, he was a teen idol: musician, soap opera heartthrob and movie star.
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Nobody Takes Me Seriously, Anyway: Split Enz

By Less Lee Moore

[This piece was originally published in Smack Dab Fanzine #5, April 1996. With the exception of typos I may have corrected, all of the original text and formatting remain the same. I have also scanned the original artwork.—Ed.]

The first pop star I had a crush on was Barry Manilow. Looks aside, I was dazzled by his rhinestone-studded costumes and silly medleys. I cherished my monthly fan club letters for years until I turned on MTV in 1981. Then I discovered New Wave and the weirdest, most endearing brothers next to Jeff and Steve McDonald. Neil and Tim Finn from Split Enz.
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Married and Buried: Punk As A Four-Letter Word, Part Two

By Less Lee Moore

Read Part One of this article here.

This year, I got a copy of Nirvana, a book by music journalist Everett True. Although I own Come As You Are by Michael Azerrad, I’ve never even read it. So to be fair, I read Azerrad’s book first.

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Urge Overlooked

By Michael Row

There was once a band from Hawthorne, California called REDD KROSS. Ever hear of them?? They were this wildly fun & funny punk/pop/rock group who dug CHEAP TRICK a heck of a lot. And they liked to get dressed up. Oh man, did they ever.
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Married and Buried: Punk As A Four-Letter Word, Part One

By Less Lee Moore

When others become misty-eyed with nineties nostalgia, I never know what to say. I’ve often felt like my memories of the decade are far removed from theirs. Although I liked some of the so-called “grunge” music, I resented the media co-opting of the word in an attempt to cash in on youth culture. It’s only recently that I started to feel like I may have been more attuned to the zeitgeist than I realized.

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