Saturday night, my friend and I went to see The Linda Lindas and Be Your Own Pet at the Novo, at LA Live.

I haven’t been to the Novo before (I think maybe it was a bowling alley at one point? Part of it felt familiar, and the bowling alley is the only place I’ve been that would fit the memory), and I was thrilled to discover a new (to me) venue with fantastic sight lines and great sound.

I saw Linda Lindas open for Blondie¹ at the Greek like two years ago, and they killed. I’ve been a fan since I heard Racist, Sexist Boy* about three years ago, and I am emotionally invested in their happiness and success. They are going to blow up before we know it, and take their place as the 21st century’s Go-Gos, or Runaways. I just love those kids!

Did I mention they are all kids? When I saw them at the Greek, I think Mila, the dummer, was 12? And Bela, one of their guitarists, was like 16? You’d never know it, based on their stage presence and technical chops.

Don’t sleep on them, is what I’m saying. In a year, they won’t be playing the Novo; they’ll be playing much larger venues, and the intimacy of these shows won’t be possible.

It was the first time I’ve seen Be Your Own Pet, though I’ve been listening to them for years, since I started a Spotify station with Rebel Girl and just let it go, so I could discover new music. (When Riot Grrl was at its peak, I was a really dumb boy, so I missed a lot of it. Better late than never, dumb boys.)

I came home from the show pretty late, and I was up even later while I waited for the energy and excitement of the show to fade so I could go to sleep. (A well-worn joke in my book is: I am 52 years-old. I’m tired all the time except between the hours of 10pm and 3 am.) I considered going into Fallout 76 to work on my camp, then remembered all the times I did that “real quick” for three or four hours that flew by without me noticing. So I was off to the YouTubes!

I went through my subscriptions, and ended up watching a short from this guy called Professor of Rock, who does the kind of deep dive explorations into music and its history that speak directly to my inner nerd in a form of high elvish that has mostly been forgotten. (Remember: being a nerd isn’t about what you love; it’s about the way you love it.)

I’ve learned lots of things from him over the years, but I know a lot about music myself (Willem Dafoe Meme) so it’s rare that I go “Holy shit I didn’t know that!”

Guess where I’m going with this? I learned something that not only did I not know, it reset what I thought I knew about it.

He has a video about long songs that broke the Billboard hot 100 at a time when it was exceedingly rare for anything longer than 4 minutes to get radio play. Olds like me who grew up in the 70s and 80s probably jumped way ahead of him: Stairway to Heaven, One of These Days, Side 2 of Abbey Road (called Golden Slumbers for the single version), etc.

Only none of those were on his list! Clever girl (Jurassic Park meme).

I don’t want to spoil the countdown, in case you’re going to watch it. But I do want to share one song he included, because until this weekend, I didn’t know that this version existed. This is the full album version of Inna-Gada-Davida, by Iron Butterfly:

AKA

I’ve known the story of Inna Gadda Da Vida for so long, I can’t remember when or where I learned about it. I’ve never been a particularly big fan of it, because it’s … well, it’s boring and repetitive.

Oh, but that’s the radio version that you’ve heard, Wil Wheaton, did you know there is a SEVENTEEN MINUTE VERSION THAT ROCKS YOUR FUCKING FACE RIGHT OFF?

Well, now I do, thanks to the Professor of Rock, and holy shit I’ve listened to it so many times since Saturday, I’m at risk of burning myself out. AND I’ve been listening to the whole album, which I never even gave a second look, because I didn’t like what I thought was the only version of the title song.

So thanks, Professor! It turns out that, even at 52 years-old, there are still wonderful and surprising opportunities to learn and discover new things. I appreciate the reminder.

Hey, check out my amazing segue:

If you’re into discovering new things, maybe you’ll enjoy my new podcast, It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton. Every week I narrate a new short story from authors you don’t yet know you love. It’s available wherever you get your podcasts:

• Apple Podcasts
• PocketCast
• Stitcher
• Spotify
• Pandora
• iHeart
• Amazon
• or grab the RSS directly from me right here.

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Rock on, friends.

*I love that Bella is wearing the same Kim Gordon shirt by Kathleen Hanna that I wear from time to time.

1. May his memory be a blessing ↩︎

Remember going to the record store, browsing for hours, listening to tons of recordings on headphones, soaking up the culture and that vibe we can all feel in our memories, but can’t describe with words?

Remember getting the tape, even though you really wanted the record (that you could make into a tape), because you could listen to the tape in the car, right away?

Remember getting home and listening to the whole album, both sides of it, for the very first time?

Remember buying a CD because the single was great, only to discover that you spent 18 dollars on a piece of shit, and you were stuck with it?

Remember discovering a record that did not have a single bad track on it, and how rare that was?

I don’t know how many of you share similar experiences, but I suspect it’s not zero.

This is where we all expect me to dump on streaming or something, right? That’s not what this is about.

I love the convenience of streaming. I love the access to basically the entire history of human recordings, so when I feel compelled to listen to The Andrews Sisters and Tones On Tail in the same day, it doesn’t involve a trip to the mall. I love massive playlists of music they don’t play on the radio, that I can shuffle into my own sonic time machine. I can do all of those things I remember (except for going to record stores; I’ll still do that whenever I can), with the added bonus of never being stuck with a shitty record, ever again.

But I’ve noticed that the playlists have taken over, and I haven’t actually listened to a full album in a really, really long time. Like, other than Pink Floyd records, which must be listened to in their entirety, always (I will not be taking questions at this time), it just hasn’t occurred to me to listen to, say, all of In Utero.

I reset the counter on DAYS SINCE I LISTENED TO AN ENTIRE ALBUM to 0 last night. I really wanted to hear Drain You (yes, I know it’s off Nevermind, and I was just talking about In Utero; settle down), I saw the cover for In Utero, just sitting right there like, “Remember me? Let’s have a cuddle.” And I was like, “this is the best idea anyone has ever had.” I pushed play, then sat there and listened to the whole thing for the first time in … I’m going to describe the amount of time as “an embarrassment”.

Wow, I forgot how much I loved this album when it came out, how I played it on repeat in the car, on the boombox CD player when we played street hockey, how it was such a revelation to young me. I’d forgotten a couple of the songs, too, so it was like discovering them for the first time all over again.

When it ended, I immediately listened to all of Bleach, followed by Nevermind.

I remembered those days, before Smells Like Teen Spirit was everywhere almost over night. I briefly thought about an entire generation that grew up hearing it as just another track on Now That’s What I Call Arena Rock While Missing The Point Of The Lyrics, Volume 5, and how the context for them and Gen X is so profoundly fucking different. Mostly, I remembered how much I loved all three of these records, how much I loved Unplugged, how I played them all as loud as I could stand, and how devastated I was when Kurt Cobain died. I remembered how angry I was at him, back when I didn’t know how to feel any other emotion if I was hurt or felt a loss.

ANYWAY. When the last note of Endless, Nameless faded, and I had fully experienced all of those memories, it occurred to me that I had listened to the entire Nirvana studio catalog — the band that will likely go down as my generation’s Beatles — and it was just over two hours long. Holy shit. They changed an entire generation in, like, 120 minutes (that sounds cooler if you imagine it in Kurt Loder’s voice) and I can’t even imagine what they would have done if Kurt hadn’t died, and they’d stayed together long enough to do their American Idiot. …right?

I then took a moment to be grateful, and to admire Dave Grohl, for having the strength and courage to carry on and form Foo Fighters, which is another band that means a lot to me. He’s talked about feeling intimidated around Kurt, not believing in himself as a writer, and doing whatever it took to power through it all because he had to. In my own way, I can relate to that. I think a lot of us can. And to carry on after Taylor Hawkins died, too? Jesus Christ, man. Dave Grohl doesn’t know I exist but I am so sorry for the loss he has experienced. May their memories be a blessing.

I still love grunge, even if it hurts my heart when a kid calls it Classic Rock. But I’m old and out of touch. Who is this generation’s Nirvana? I mean, it’s probably Nirvana, but who is speaking to kids the same way, now, as they did, then?

I asked Spotify to play me some rock. It’s horrifying how well you know me, I said, but do what you do so well. I may as well make the most of this Faustian bargain.

So Spotify went to work. Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Love and Rockets, Placebo, Eagles of Death Metal, you get it.

Nice work, Spotify. I’m absolutely positive this has no Monkey’s Paw consequences in my future.

Then it gets to Reptillia, by The Strokes, and I realized that the last time I heard this song, I was playing it in Rock Band.

And that just really hit me right in the Old, you know?

I know you’re not going to believe this, but it just started playing 3’s & 7’s. Guess what game I was playing the last time I heard it?

I’m gonna go put my feet up for a minute, while I continue rocking.

Fucking Monkey’s Paw.