Life in Cambodia

Nirvana lives in Cambodia

It’s true, I was taken back to 1991, was that the year? Nirvana’s ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ was the only thing they were playing on the radio, in Detroit that was 89X, to be exact (with a little Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam and Jane’s Addiction). Were we at St. Andrew’s Hall or at the Shelter in the mosh pit (or trying to get in the mosh pit…or maybe just standing around the periphery, wishing we were in the mosh pit…)? Regardless, it was the time of ‘Lollapalooza’ and all that good stuff—summer concerts at Pine Knob where you got dropped off by your friend’s mom, then eventually, got to take the Oldsmobile or minivan yourself— the night was filled with your friends, dancing in place, bobbing your head, smoking a lot and pretty much trying to look damn cool.

I was reminded of those times on Friday night when I went to meet some friends at a bar called Zepplin’s (again, we didn’t grow up in the 70’s but remember how Led Zepplin IV was another one of those had-to-haves in the tape player all the time? It all comes around) to hear an acquaintance’s band play. I walked in just as the opening band was warming up; low lights, lots of people milling around, chatting and drinking cans of $1 Anchor beer waiting for the show to start. There was even a loft area like a mini St. Andrew’s or 9:30 Club. I immediately felt like I should be wearing my doc marten’s and a flannel shirt wrapped around my waist. The opening band was taking the small stage set up in the corner of the main floor—they were like 16 or 17 years old wearing Vans, doc marten’s, second-hand shirts—old-man checker-style buttoned to the top, various punk band t-shirts and black pants or long shorts. The guitars were getting tuned up, the drummer was arranging his stool, twirling the drum sticks; one of the kids was checking the amp, another testing the mic and then a just-turned-mature voice cracked as it said ‘How’s everyone doing tonight?!’…the audience of 17 year olds crowded close together up front, started to yell and clap and the boys on stage strummed a few cords and then I immediately recognized the unforgettable lyrics of Kurt Cobain: “…here we are now entertain us…I feel stupid and contagious, here we are now…” Man. I settled in with my cold Anchor next to another young fan who was beginning to jump up and down… “these guys are great, yeah?!” another one yelled over the guitar riffs: “I love these guys!” I couldn’t help bobbing my head and letting a big smile open up across my face—I would need another beer for this. After 3 beers and a few more Nirvana, Jane’s Addiction and other very familiar 90’s ‘alternative’ music hits the whole crowd was bobbing their heads and air-fisting towards the group; there was even a pack of 16 year old girls starting their own little mosh pit in front of the boys who were playing their hearts out.

My friends and I marveled at how times come and go, and then come around again; we all had been here before—of course not in Phnom Penh, but in a very similar place, not far from our parents’ homes about 10-15 years ago. Their short, but no less charged set ended and they got the praise they were hoping for—girls ogling, other guys high-fiving and of course, I can imagine one major highlight for the rock-stars-in the making: the next band, made up of 30-40 year old rockers who had seen the same early-gig-days just as the Nirvana-covering 17 year olds—congratulated the opening act for their skills and yelled “this is the future of Cambodian Rock ‘n Roll!!” and the small crowd erupted into more whooping and high fives.

I realized that I needed this—when was the last time I was at a show like this? Despite the amateur sound and the small venue in PNP, I was transported back to some of the most vivid memories I have from high school, where all that mattered was your group of friends gathered on a blanket from your mom’s trunk, drinking huge stadium-sized cokes, smoking a lot of cigarettes and bobbing your heads back and forth as you mouthed every lyric, hoping the band would play for hours more; you hoped that the warm summer night on the hill at Pine Knob would never end, but at least you had the ticket stub secure in your back pocket to display proudly on your bedroom mirror or bulletin board the next day—ears ringing, knowing you would never forget that night and feeling like the coolest kids at the show. My friend’s band started—more mature, few covers, still loud and with their own style…I stayed for a few, but with the strong smell of smoked cigarettes on my clothes, sweaty shirt and ringing ears, I called a it a night at 11:45pm, just making that universal curfew I remember so well from the summer of 1991, was that it?…still smiling and head bobbing, sneaked out among the 16 year olds and got a moto taxi who safely delivered me home.

posted by Life in Cambodia @ 6:39 PM