Looking back on my freshman fall semester of college in 1996, I couldn’t tell you about my classes and my memories of what went down on the weekends is hazy at best. But I can tell you what the soundtrack of my life was at that time without even thinking about it.
Depending on my mood, it was a steady mixture of Rage Against The Machine’s Evil Empire, The Beatles (whom I had only recently dug into), Fiona Apple’s Tidal, Tonic’s Lemon Parade, Barenaked Ladies‘ Rock Spectacle, eels‘ Beautiful Freak, Better Than Ezra’s Friction, Baby, Bad Religion’s Stranger Than Fiction, Ben Folds Five’s Ben Folds Five, Reel Big Fish’s Turn the Radio Off, and Sublime’s Sublime.
We can debate the merits of my musical taste as an 18-year-old another time (I’m very white, FYI), but it’s that last one that really stands out in my memory. It had been the Summer of Sublime as the band’s third (and final) studio album was released on July 30, 1996, two months following the tragic overdose death of lead singer Bradley Nowell.
Starting with the eventual No. 1 single “What I Got” and followed by hits like “Santeria,” “Doin’ Time,” “Wrong Way,” and “April 29, 1992 (Miami),” it was the rare album that seemed to include more songs that charted than those that didn’t (which isn’t true but it felt like it, dammit). It hit a sweet spot in the culture thanks to its mixture of punk rock, reggae, ska, and hip-hop while the lyrics touched on taboo issues (at least back then) such as smoking weed, police brutality, and prostitution. The melodic verses and laid back guitars had a way of making most songs feel accessible even to suburban kids like myself. Like a safe glimpse into a life we did not know, full of arm sleeve tattoos, copious amounts of marijuana smoke, and prison sentences.
I don’t know if Newell’s lyrics were ahead of their time or if we just haven’t progressed all that much as a society, but his songs touched on topics that my suburban ears didn’t hear very often. Getting deeper into their discography you hear discussions about date rape and the pitfalls of heavy drug use and the injustice surrounding the relationship between the police and the poor. It gave us permission to think about those things, even if we weren’t ready to do much about them (clearly).
It’s hard to remember but these were the days, long before the internet became a mainstay in our lives, when an album’s success lived or died with radio. Because of the immediate success of the album, the rollout of singles actually went well into the following year. “Santeria” wasn’t released until January 7, 1997 while “Wrong Way” followed soon after and “Doin’ Time” wouldn’t roll out November 25, almost a year and a half after the album had been released.
The slow burn appeal of the album would put it on the alt rock charts for 122 weeks. It eventually sold over five million copies in the United States alone, a stunning number considering the band was unable to tour to promote it given the untimely death of their lead singer. Spin Magazine would put it on their list of The 90 Greatest Albums of the 90s and Rolling Stone included it in their Essential Recordings of the 90s.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tF1628qACPM
Fast-forward to 2002. I am now living in Los Angeles. Sublime has long been off the charts and the entire state of music has shifted away from the likes of alt rock and ska. The biggest-selling albums are from Eminem, Nelly, Britney Spears, and Avril Lavigne. We are well into the pop/teen band era of the early 2000s.
More often than not, I would tune in to KROQ, the local rock station. This was still before a time when satellite radio, internet radio, or podcasts were really things so we swore by what the radio gave us. I remember fondly that “The World Famous KROQ’s” tagline had something to do with “today’s best rock” and I remember that because KROQ would play Sublime all the time.
ALL. THE. GOD. DAMN. TIME.
I feel as though I am only being slightly hyperbolic when I say that KROQ would play a Sublime song on the hour every hour. Whenever I was in the car for longer than 15 minutes I would play an internal game, wondering how many songs they’d play before I heard “What I Got” or “Santeria.” Most times, I would not get far.
It got to the point where I wanted desperately to talk to someone at KROQ so they could show me the numbers. Prove to me that the people of Los Angeles wanted, nay, needed to hear “What I Got” nine times a day. Because I refused to believe it. I never met anyone who felt that their Sublime listening needs were not sufficiently met and I never met anyone who demanded that someone put Sublime on at a party or bar. All the while, whatever remaining appreciation I had for that record fizzled away in a haze of over-saturation.
In 2015, KROQ did a Firecracker 500, counting down the “500 biggest KROQ songs of all time.” On that list, “What I Got” came in at No. 2, “Santeria” was No. 15, “Wrong Way” was No. 25, “April 29th, 1992” came in at No. 73, and “Doin’ Time” finished 205th. Honestly, I think they undersold most of them, including “What I Got.” “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was No. 1 and I can assure you that KROQ played that song on the regular but I still don’t think they played it quite as much as “What I Got.” At least, that’s what it seemed like back then.
I’m guessing that the glut of Sublime songs on your local rock and alt rock stations was somewhat similar over the 2000s. Hell, maybe it’s still happening today. All I know is that terrestrial radio sucked dry whatever goodness was left from that music. What was once the rare album I could put on and play from beginning to end became an album I wouldn’t listen to on a dare. Just hearing the opening chords of “Santeria” makes my spine shiver. I equate these songs, and any song from Sublime now, as mediocre pablum unfit for my delicate ears.
As I was preparing to write this piece, I ended up going down a YouTube wormhole of music videos from 1996. I went from Better Than Ezra’s “Desperately Wanting” to Spacehog’s “In The Meantime,” to The Toadies “Possum Kingdom” and on and on I went. I haven’t heard most of these songs in years and probably won’t seek them out for just as long. Still, the nostalgic enjoyment of listening to them was pleasing and immediately brought me back to specific places and times.
I refused to do the same for Sublime. I have no good memories of their music now. They are the soundtrack of my doom. What a shame that is, because there’s value in their music. I just can’t hear it anymore. I find it hard to believe you can either.
They say that if you love a song, don’t put it on your iPod (or phone, as it were). Because then you’ll hear it too often and you’ll tire of it. Long before we were storing our music online, it was the radio’s job to keep things fresh and maintain our interest in the music it claimed to appreciate. Instead, for me, it ruined the legacy of Sublime’s eponymous album by making it feel common. Regular. Standard. Mediocre.
Happy Anniversary, Sublime’s Sublime! Today, I will not listen to you. In that way, perhaps, I honor you most.
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