Any true GenXer would welcome, if not outright relish, a debate over certain touchstones and cultural pillars of the 1990s.
Ahhh…the ’90s: a relatively decent time. The economy was strong, jobs were easy to come by, and the dollar stretched further. Society, for the most part, functioned with a certain unspoken decorum. Greasy hair and grungy clothes, even the ubiquitous chokers, did not signal a disregard for elders or basic civility. People lived without the compulsive attachment to cell phones. The internet was still something of a novelty, useful, but not a forced necessity. MTV, while evolving, still bore a resemblance to its 1980s self. And Bill Clinton? For his era, he was a capable president.
We adored Michael Jordan, and we knew, without question, that Bo Jackson did know. A proper house party pulsed with Dr. Dre, Tone Loc, Bell Biv DeVoe, and Boyz II Men: long before every beat and lyric had to be dissected through the grinding gears of critical theory, promulgated by the useful idiots who still do not know their fate, as History shows.
Cinema captured the spirit of the decade in films like Singles and Reality Bites, Pulp Fiction and of course The Matrix: while Kids offered an unflinching foreshadowing of what was to come. Television, for those who had cable, brought us Friends, a healthy skepticism of clowns thanks to It, the deadpan brilliance of Seinfeld, and earnest family storytelling in Family Matters and The Cosby Show. Live television brought us O.J. Simpson, in his white Ford Bronco on a police chase.
The 90’s had Michael Jackson before he lost himself completely. The Dallas Cowboys still wore the mantle of “America’s Team.” Also, Whitney Houston’s rendition of the National Anthem at the Super Bowl, in which case, no performance since has matched its raw, soul-stirring power. It was a moment felt by all, a reminder of a time when unity transcended politics. We loved Whitney and we had love for one another, and she remains, whether it rattles the grievance brigades or not, a Daughter of America (and those brooding in their angst, are welcome to choke on it).
Ours was the first generation to come of age post-segregation. We were down with anyone who was “good to go.” We handled our conflicts directly, not being afforded the ability to hide behind texts or social media. The day moved on.
The 1990s also gave us the Dave Matthews Band, blending talent with a sense of camaraderie. Tool and Creed offered opposite ends of a spectrum, one probing the depths of existential dread, the other clinging to the last embers of idealism. And, of course, a wave of bands surfaced with lead singers straining to capture the brooding timbre of Eddie Vedder and that distinct sound originating, allegedly, from Seattle, Washington.
Perhaps the aforementioned is simply a spoke in the wheels of time. Or, perhaps there actually was more social harmony among us and less fear of speaking out. As such, nostalgia can be a vaporous glimpse of seemingly better times. Then again, not too many actually care to hear about it…as actual conversation gets in the way of screen time.
The past is a foreign country, unfortunately and nostalgia and the brave new world, cannot occupy the same space.
Joshua Card
Red Bank