As I’ve noted before, my time as a student in college radio was a prolonged musical education. Many people walk through the doors of a station like that convinced that they have unique reservoirs of knowledge that they are duty-bound to share with the world. I was certainly opinionated and had my flashes of ego when it came to matters of musical taste (especially when contrasting my interest in, say, Husker Du against the adherents of godawful hair metal prevalent among the population of the wing I lived in during my freshman year), but I was also always keenly aware that there was a tremendous amount I didn’t know, or, to be embarrassingly accurate, didn’t fully get upon initial listen. I’d love to proclaim that Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation was a transformational beauty to me from the moment the needle first dropped. It wasn’t. The wall of abrasive sound was initially impenetrable to me. Of course, now I have a sizable array of Sonic Youth offerings on that section of the CD shelves, much to the dismay of certain household members.

With a band like Sonic Youth, they were the beneficiaries of so much praise, so much excitement, that I kept trying to understand what I might be missing. The resources at that time were far more limited than they are now, but I still read as much as I could about the band and their music. It wasn’t just the New York noise merchants that inspired this reaction and response. There were plenty of other artists that were part of my ongoing learning process, that I would work and work at to try and hear the amazing things that others reported. This was the case with American Music Club.

It’s probably easy to understand how some bands would take an adjustment period, but American Music Club should have been perfectly suited to my tastes. Their music was rich but approachable, with an emphasis on smart, literate lyrics. The song structures weren’t especially daunting. It was simply good, solidly constructed songwriting. Album after album came out, collected exultant raves from the trustworthy sources, took up respectable residence on the college charts, and left me a little perplexed as to why I didn’t connect with it more deeply. This was a band with a song entitled “What Godzilla Said to God When His Name Wasn’t Found in the Book of Life.” How could I not adore them?

Eventually it did start to settle in. I may admire Mark Eitzel’s songwriting more than I revel in it, but there are certain songs that I find as stunning as anything from one of the bands whose complete discography resides in my collection. But then, I’m not sure how anyone could resist a song with the lyrics “For 3 nights and 3 days Jesus hung on a boom box while it played/every single song ever sung by Billie Holiday.” I don’t think it takes a lot of outside reading to find that just plain cool.

American Music Club, “How Many Six Packs Does It Take To Screw In A Light”

(Disclaimer: It appears to me that San Francisco is out of print, and this song is unavailable through any means that would transfer a monetary sum from the purchaser of the song in question to members of the band. The song is being made available here under that assumption and belief. Naturally, the song will be promptly removed without complaint should someone with due authority to do so asks for that action.)