So I was 16 years old, sitting in my bedroom, playing "Phantasy Star II" on the Sega Genesis, and listening to the now-defunct Minneapolis modern rock station, KJ104. Suddenly, the lyrics caught my ear:

"What the world needs now
Is a new Frank Sinatra
So I can get you in bed

What the world needs now
Is another folk singer
Like I need a hole in my head."

That's awesome!

I went out and bought the CD that very night, and listened to it for the rest of the glorious summer of 1992. But you know things appeal to you differently when you're 16. You're more entertained by goofy shit. As such, I was much less excited at 18 when Cracker's follow-up, Kerosene Hat was released. The new had worn off their novelty rock, and I'd since discovered much better bands in the modern rock vein. But I bought it on release day, nevertheless, and moderately enjoyed it.

1996. The Golden Age appears in my mailbox. By 20, I am almost scared of this band. I'd heard the single, "I Hate My Generation", all over the radio and been severely disappointed. I immediately skipped that song and went to track number two, "I'm a Little Rocket Ship", a song which grows on you like a fungus, and will be one of the follow-up singles, if the record label has a clue. "Big Dipper" came on, and I was thinking about how if the lyrics got any trendier ("Sittin' on the cafe's inner step/ With a book I haven't started yet"), I might have to shoot myself. But again, the song grew on me.

Days later, I can't get these fucking things out of my head. And you know what? They're horrible! I mean ungodly bad. Let's face it: Lowery is pretty aged at this point, and his attempts to come off "with it" are brutally transparent. Take "I Hate My Generation". Whoo, slacker apathy from a guy my dad's age! And check "100 Flower Power Maximum". Even the song title screams "approximated youth culture". Hippies are in vogue again! Quick! Blend a 60s catchphrase with a modern buzzword and put a random number in front of it! "Hello, New Fast Automatic Daffodils? Yes, this is David Lowery. I'm just wondering... am I alternative yet?"

Cracker's Golden Age brings a burned-out visionary to the party, plops him down on the couch next to David Bowie and Paul McCartney, and lets him rot in public. But worse, after carting the body off, you can't get the stench out! It just lingers, a constant reminder of our own hipster mortality. Please, god, let "I'm a Little Rocket Ship" leave my head. Please, I'll do anything! Anything!!!

-Ryan Schreiber, May, 1996