Concrete Blonde was one of those bands I discovered on my own. They had a sound like nothing I’d heard until then, and it resonated with a lonely proto-goth in Oklahoma. I was absolutely thrilled when Bloodletting was re-released a few years ago with the French chorus version of the title song.
Now it’s twenty-five years since I discovered the band, and I’m letting them play while I prep the house for the Trick or Read book event. I had to stop and write this, wanted to share what their music meant to me and how it’s changed for and with me.
Mexican Moon was their last album that I recalled (barring a greatest hits and B-sides compilation a few years later), and it came out when things with my first love were really coming to an explosive end ( I was nineteen, half redneck and half drama queen, there was no other possible outcome),so the CD always held some slices of bitterness for me.
It got a nice redemption a few years ago, when I heard it in Greece. We were in Dimitsana, having breakfast on a quiet Sunday morning and for some reason they were playing Mexican Moon at a low background level. I realized I had outgrown so much of my anger, so much of the frustration I’d felt when the album first came out. And though many of the songs themselves are angry, I was able to just enjoy the music.
Now that day in Greece is a memory, and a good one. I’ve moved past it, and even past the relationship that took me to Dimitsana in the first place.
I’m not that kid anymore, that broken ghost of a boy, but I still enjoy his music from time to time.