The hype machine for music was very different in the late eighties when I was at the college radio station. (And The Hype Machine was nonexistent.) New releases from artists we considered significant could actually sneak right up on us, unheralded by the major music magazines and produced without any mention whatsoever from the glossy drones on MTV. The album would just arrive in the mail, or occasionally show up alluringly on the CMJ upcoming releases list that periodically provided a month’s advance forecast on the back page. Even then, it was only the name of the artist with some strange new album title next to it, no other information. It was left up to us to puzzle it out. This was compounded by the not insignificant detail that many of the bands and performers were fairly mysterious anyway. We knew what we could glean from the liner notes and little more.

And yet, there was sometimes a record, even a debut record, that arrived with great fanfare. I’m not sure how we knew about it–maybe a record rep giving us some early word that a special album was on the way, maybe someone got their hands on some sort of smaller fan publication that was more willing to step away from the expected fare to celebrate a smaller artist on the way–but when Syd Straw’s Surprise arrived at the station, we were waiting for it. We knew we needed to listen to this. It certainly helped that Michael Stipe was a prominent guest on the album. Circa 1989, there were few personnel choices that could grab college radio programmers’ attention quite like the frontman of R.E.M. It also helped that there was a little cult following–the little clique of cool kids within the larger collection of cool kids–that had great admiration for the Golden Palominos, the brainchild of Anton Fier that served as a shifting collective of artists. Straw had memorable sung on some of their most stirring songs, so a whole album of her vocalizing was sure to immediately grab the attention of some at the station, and we were always quick to share our favorites.

The album was great, and it got significant airplay on the station. For a little while, it was also one of those records that became a station favorite, a release that DJs continually gravitated back to, bypassing more familiar artists to play a track from Surprise because they knew it was good. It wasn’t a hit record, by any means, but listening to 90FM at that time, you could convince yourself otherwise.

Amidst those tracks there was also a handy, necessary anthem for me at the time. I was in my last months of teenagedom when the album was released, and, like a lot of people in that age group, I was still a kid playing at being an adult, contending with a full spectrum of interpersonal relationships, especially those that involved romantic entanglements. I found I was especially prone to getting tangled up in trying to answer the question “What does that mean?” for every little gesture or seemingly cryptic comment. I quickly and easily got mired in the process of trying to determining the hidden intent behind everything, as if life itself was some sort of movie or book that could be broken down to its motifs and themes. Any time I would start getting too overwhelmed by this tendency–theories starting to double-back on themselves, losing track of what was anticipated and what actually happened–I would try to remember to play this song and hear its simple message.

Occasionally, I still do.

Syd Straw, “Think Too Hard”

(Disclaimer: Syd Straw’s Surprise looks to me to be out of print, and unavailable as a digital purchase. “Think Too Hard” was one of the singles off of the album, and just popular enough that it could have wound up on a compilation somewhere. If so, that may be in print. But, befitting the whole point of the song and this post, I’m trying not to worry too much about it. I will worry plenty, on the other hand, if someone with due authority to do so contacts me and asks me to remove this song. Indeed, I’ll comply gladly and promptly.)