Revisiting Ned's Atomic Dustbin
A decade later the Internet would begin to rob music of its monetary value, but in the early í90s, music was expensive, and I couldnít afford much of it. A compact disc might cost $12 or $13, which was a lot of lot of cash for an 11 year old, so if you saved up and bought a CD that turned out to be a lemon, you listened to it ad nauseam anyway. For lack of better musicóor at least more musicóI memorized every nuance of the few albums in my meager collection, which meant that I spent countless hours with albums like Nedís Atomic Dustbinís God Fodder, a disc I played endlessly even though I didnít particularly care for it.
Theyíd disappear in the mid-í90s, but at the start of the decade Nedís Atomic Dustbin were a minor phenomenon on college radio, where they had a couple of nice little hits. Mostly, though, they were known for their T-shirts. The band made dozens of them, most riffing on their quirky logo, branding themselves with an audacity now mostly reserved for clothing chains like Abercrombie and Fitch. All the cool kids in Milwaukee were wearing them in the early í90s, including my best friendís totally awesome older sister. In a misguided attempt to siphon some of her coolness, I saved up about bought a copy of God Fodder. I wished Iíd just bought a T-shirt instead.
Years later I probably hocked that album so I could buy a Screeching Weasel CD instead, but for months God Fodder lived in my boom box, despite my utter ambivalence to it. So when I found a one-dollar used copy of the album last week at CD Max, I picked it up, tempted by both nostalgia and the far-fetched (but still very real) possibility that this disc was the exact same one I jettisoned 15 years ago.
It was a far happier reunion than Iíd expected. For an album Iíd never cared for all that much, it sure has held up well. It stands as a last-hurrah of early-í90s Brit-pop, fusing Stone Roses-styled psychedelia with pop-punk muscle, a few of-the-moment Big Audio Dynamite flourishes and cavernous production that portended alterna-pop. The singles still hold up pretty well, too. Not a bad score for a buck.
To celebrate my nostalgic coup, hereís the video for God Fodderís stand-out single, ďGrey Cell GreenĒ:
And, for the hell of it, the video for ďKill Your Television,Ē the song that played most to my 11-year-old attention span: