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By the second half of the 90s, the grunge era had all too quickly come to an end, and there were a variety of new acts in town. We got a steady onslaught of boy bands and alarmingly young female artists. Groups like No Doubt and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones brought an influx of ska mixed with punk and reggae. There was a considerable amount of fluff that ran the gamut, from Ricky Martin to Hanson.[1] I met these newcomers with bitterness and wonder – wonder at what happened to my beloved grunge rock movement, whose heyday was so brief.
Then, to throw me for even more of a loop, another sound grew in popularity, this one triggering one of my biggest pet peeves: my generation’s reluctance to inhabit its own unique skin.
Here’s what went down: Suddenly, stations started playing stuff that sounded . . . old, like it came from the 1940s. I’m talking a horn section backed by thumping bass drums, all sprinkled with a generous amount of pep. Turns out we were in the midst of some sort of swing revival – and people were way into it. It invaded MTV. It made its way to Top 40 radio. It showed up in commercials. And this wasn’t just a slew of covers. True, some of the popular material was old school – like the Bryan Setzer Orchestra’s cover of “Jump, Jive An’ Wail.” But plenty of songs were originals, like “Zoot Suit Riot” by the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies and “Hell” by the Squirrel Nut Zippers.[2] Enough original material hit the airwaves to suggest that this revival would be more than just a blip in 90s music.[3] It was not long before it infected my High School, and the invasion was never clearer than at Homecoming.
My High School honored the Homecoming tradition, but the dance was super informal – nothing like what you see in the movies or on television. It typically consisted of a DJ playing radio hits, unenthused chaperones hiding in the corners of the gym, and teens drumming up trouble with illegal substances in the parking lot. The year of the Swing revival, the DJ was playing a plethora of new and old Swing ditties. After a couple of these tunes, everyone gathered in a circle to watch kids pair up and attempt the Lindy Hop. Just what I wanted to see.
So. Could 90s kids really pull off moving to Swing? Surprisingly, and annoyingly, yes. While a handful of my classmates jiggled and kicked to the center of the dance floor, others excitingly cheered them on, while I struggled to understand what was so wonderful about this. I vividly recall the class president, who also happened to star in every school musical and play on the football team, grab Penny, a petite girl from my homeroom who weighed about 85 pounds. Mr. Well-Rounded showed off his supreme physical fitness and coordination as he lifted Penny high into the air, spun her in circles, twirled her this way and that, and stopped to swing her through his legs every few measures. Color me impressed.
OK, so aside from the fact that this Swing energy felt completely fake coming from my peers, here’s why this really bothered me: in my experience, mimicry was one of the most irksome qualities of 90s teens. I was surrounded by die-hard fans of the Grateful Dead and Bob Dylan, kids who swore allegiance to the hippie and Beat generations. They immersed themselves in Alan Ginsberg and worshipped Jack Kerouac. The Swing repeat was just another attempt to adopt the music, culture, and attitude of a previous generation. Rather than focus on our own cultural contributions, it seemed my contemporaries routinely sought to embody the ideas and values of those who came before us.
This felt unnecessary. We already had our defining music genre and the garb to go with it.[4] On top of that, we had a practically immortal icon in Kurt Cobain. Now, I realize that the hype surrounding Cobain skyrocketed after his death, and we’ll never know whether his premature exit added to his lasting influence. I also recognize that it’s debatable whether he fathered grunge. But, without question, he became a legend. The sudden obsession with Swing felt disrespectful. We were discarding Cobain’s legacy in favor of musicians from our grandparents’ youth. We were trying to experience sentiments that we couldn’t fully understand – because they weren’t ours.
We were better at rolling our eyes at enthusiasm, rubbing our eyes after watching endless MTV, and humming along aimlessly to heavy tunes whose hopelessness simultaneously offered catharsis. That felt authentic. Attempting to recapture someone else’s era from half a century ago was lame and uninteresting.
I gotta be fair. The Swing storm was short-lived, and, in retrospect, it was fairly inoffensive. Many of my peers probably forgot that it even happened. But this wouldn’t be a 90s blog if I didn’t complain about something. What’s more, this gives me a chance to double down on my support for the skeptical and dismissive attitude that defined a true 90s teen and that I think we all should have proudly adopted. Kids, if you’re on the hunt for a generation to emulate and an era to try to reclaim as your own, I’ve got a suggestion for ya.
[1] How to explain “MMMBop”? I’d say you had to be there, but having lived through it myself, I’m not sure I can offer clarity. What I can do is direct your attention here: Hanson reflects on their hit ‘MMMbop’ 25 years later: ‘It’s wild’ (nypost.com) Listen, no shame in growing older, but man, if I was previously not feeling middle aged, seeing the Hanson brothers as men brought it home hard.
[2] Other contributors to this revival include Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, the Atomic Fireballs, and the Flying Neutrinos. If you’re looking to refresh your memory of 90s swing, I recommend checking out the soundtrack from the 90s Rom Com, “Three to Tango.”
[3] All that it actually turned out to be.
[4] Truthfully, my classmates and I are a little too young to have appreciated the grunge movement at its early stages in the 1980s. But rather than snuggling in behind Gen X and thanking them for the ride, we routinely tried to tie ourselves to other, earlier generations’ identities.