Word: fucks
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Another magnetic performance is given by Charlie Broderick as Ron, a small time New York hood. Ron introduces himself with a 'fuck'-ridden monologue about a Mets game, a mix-up in ticketing and an assault with a baseball bat, only to leave to pick up his dry cleaning and his daughter from Dalton. This character is 100 percent stereotype, yet Broderick keeps him fresh by packing his performance with sheer exuberance...
...going down and the macadamia nuts coming back up, emerges a voice worth listening to. Out of a mind cluttered with pop culture icons and high brow trivia--James Dean, Lucky Charms, Cezanne--come the big big modern philosophical questions, refurbished with Nelson's own pessimistic twang. "Who the fuck am I?" he asks...
...seen them everywhere. On old ladies at the MFA, on the twelve-year-old punks at Harvard Square, on the orderlies at UHS and on former Soviet leaders. This week's fashion trend isn't about cheeze labels like "gen-x" or "glam rock" or "punk as fuck"--this trend crosses such petty verbal boundaries. I would suggest that the truly stylin' toss the CK One, grow out that short bleached and cropped hair, stop saving up for the perfect black penny loafers and invest in the single item which apparently rocks the Harvard fashion scene: Big Hairy Russian Intellectual...
...wealth, yuppies and conspicuous consumption, the 90s are becoming the decade of disturbance. In the 80s, Madonna topped the charts with "Material Girl." Today, Nine Inch Nails has become the hottest ticket in America with songs like "Closer," heavily dependent on feedback, dissonance and violent lyrics ("I want to fuck you like an animal/I want to feel you from the inside out/I want to fuck you like an animal/You get me closer to God"). Dark, chaotic music videos that alternate with scenes of glorified murder from the likes of Snoop Doggy Dogg also grace MTV's frequent-rotation roster...
...been taken. Grunge-angst, having dispensed with "Greed is good" in the early 90s, now leaves the cutting edge nothing to rebel against but flannel, and what kind of a statement would that be? Nothing is left but to rebel against order itself, to embrace chaos as the ulitimate "fuck you" to the less stylish world, which will probably soon follow suit in its typically pondering yet pandering...