Flannel redux

Oh, dear gods, am I nostalgia-whipped these days. I basically got hit with a convergence of several strong influences at once:
1) Resumption of work on the Lemmings' Encyclopedia (more on that in another post);
2) Receipt of the link of from Jodi, which instantly planted my brain in the middle of Champaign-Urbana circa 1991;
3) Discussion with rafaela about ten-year-old MTV Buzz Clips, which led to her burning a soon-to-be-received CD crammed with the likes of Veruca Salt, Superdrag and Whitehouse's "I Could Never Be Your Woman"; and
4) Indoctrination into the world of the iCrack iTunes Music Store.

The end result: I have been jonesing for early-to-mid-90's alternative like nobody's business.

You know what I'm talking about. We're talking about music from between 1990 and 1996, from Singles to just-pre-Lilith Fair. We're talking about the time when "alternative" was The Thing, back when there was an overly pat media construct called Generation X. We're talking about the stuff Kennedy played afternoon in and afternoon out on Alternative Nation, in the days when you could mention Gavin Rossdale without mentioning Gwen Stefani first, and when the sky collapsed because the Butthole Surfers and the Flaming Lips (get this) actually got into heavy rotation.

I am in such big trouble.

How big, you ask? Well, it started with a list. Just a simple list, just for giggles, of what songs I would include on a 90's-alt mix, no artists repeated. That list soon reached three figures without a lick of effort. And that was bad, because it made me think. It started to occur to me just how long it's been since I've heard "Hunger Strike" by Temple of the Dog, and and I began to regret not burning Urge Overkill's version of "Girl You'll Be a Woman Soon" off of Kristi's copy of the Pulp Fiction soundtrack before she bailed town. Then I blew the dust off of my

That's when I got onto iTunes and started downloading. Y'see, I've been hoarding those free-song Pepsi caps at work by the handful, and I've been tearing through them like a scimitar through a Ring-Ding. If you want proof that there's something wrong with me right now, here's what I've procured so far:
"Beercan," Beck
"Big Bang Baby," Stone Temple Pilots
"Plowed," Sponge
"Low," Cracker
"Laid," James
"Something's Always Wrong," Toad the Wet Sprocket
"You," Candlebox
Gods help me: "Stay" by Lisa Loeb and Nine Stories
And now I'm on the verge of sinking even lower, because iTunes has very wide gaps in their available inventory. The problem is that these days I'm only one of maybe 50 people who actually wants this music, so the used CD places are breaking their necks to unload it all. I noted recently that Jennifer Trynin's Cockamamie and Letters to Cleo's Aurora Gory Alice are going for 75 cents apiece on Half.com. For the love of Hannah, somebody stop me, please...

I am seriously in need of a 12-step program right now, folks. I'm finding myself pulled in directions I shouldn't be—I'm now pining for music that I was never all that fond of before (like Blind Melon and the Cranberries), not because I think they've improved at all, but because they instantly bring me back to That Time. No, I don't know what it is about that six- or seven-year span that has taken control of my brain. All I know is that I'm bordering on obsessive at this point. If they haul me off in a canvas shirt with really long sleeves, you'll know what happened.

(Oh, and if anyone's got a copy of "Hobo Humpin' Slobo Babe" lying around, I'd be most grateful. Thank you.)