Confessions of a Pandoraholic
It’s spreadin’ just like the flu, and it’s an affliction everyone can and should have! Just visit Pandora if you don’t believe me, or read on…They say the first step to recovery is to acknowledge the problem. Here are my notes from the first Pandoraholics meeting I attended.
Let me know if these words help you. Feel free to share them, or tell your own story….
“Hello (tap, tap, tap), is this thing on? Uh, well… [Brief pause, fumbling noises] Good evening everyone, my name is Paul, and I’m an admitted Pandoraholic.
My life was on a terrible downward spiral, until I stumbled upon Pandora.
It was a gloomy day, and I was surfing the net when I first found Pandora. In minutes my headache was gone, and I was able to face my Suicidal Tendencies head-on. The Cramps were back, but I knew it wasn’t time for me to wave the Black Flag, not just yet at least… I could not believe how good it was to be able to listen to all my favorite Jams and a be a part of something. I was addicted. It was full of G. Love & Special Sauce.
I had a friend 3 Doors Down who was also searching for The Cure, but he moved to Linkin’ Park and I haven’t seen him since — he left the Doors wide open, and just could not control his Rage Against the Machine. He was living with Warren Zevon, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Angelique Kidjo and The Wu-Tang Clan. I guess we were just bunch of Circle Jerks like so many other Misfits, PIXIES or Butthole Surfers, out of control and all hopped-up on REEF, and Seven Dust…
His problem was Bad Brains — he was a real Audioslave, you know, a Radiohead. I think it even affected his Offspring. After awhile, it all became a Blur, and nothing more than Garbage. I felt like just another TOOL going around and around in A Perfect Circle. It was all a real System of a Down, I felt Rancid — even my Hoobastank, and I’m sure it even would have affected U2.
All my clothes were Staind after falling in a Puddle of Mudd I felt like a Twisted Sister, but I was able to get my Motörhead above those Muddy Waters even though I had Faith No More. Yep, it was pure Fear alright, not just a Minor Threat, and even putting on a Helmet or an Agnostic Front wouldn’t help for more than a Dag Nasty 7 Seconds.
I was still driving my old Chevelle, and I felt like I was stuck in Traffic. In those days, the Cars were the only way to get to the Soundgarden to Groovasaurus on that Collective Soul. For years I wished I could buy one of those Fabulous Thunderbirds or a Fabulosos Cadillacs like my friends Lil’ Kim, Lou Reed or Jimi Hendrix had. I didn’t have the 50-cents for The Subways and no Cash for a Placebo so I’d just let out a Primal Scream to try and feel like I was part of the Human League.…
I felt like I would be Ash long before getting to an Oasis, never mind trying to reach Nirvana. I was on my way to Jimmie’s Chicken Shack to buy some Vanilla Fudge and since I couldn’t sleep I just kept Counting Crows (lots of ’em, not just Black Crowes).
I wondered endlessly, what was it that made Boyz 2 Men anyway, I felt like Stevie Wonder? Was I going to have to climb the Mountain? Maybe it was just Pieces of a Dream, or just another one of The Temptations, No Doubt?
Maybe my Moody Blues had become a Deep Purple? I wasn’t like the Allman Brothers, The Righteous Brothers, the Everly Brothers, or even The Chemical Brothers who only ate Red Hot Chili Peppers — to me that was for The Birds.
I was surely in Dire Straits. Stuck in The Velvet Underground with no way to ever reach ZZ Top. I was once a Prince dating Queen Latifah and now just another one of The Drifters like Marilyn Manson and so many other Animals. I found myself at a Creedence Clearwater Revival eating Meat Loaf when it hit me, Wham! I said A-ha, I’ll just have a bowl of Black Eyed Peas, a heaping plate of KoRn, and a mug of Hot Chocolate and join the Culture Club!
That was the Genesis. I was no longer a Foreigner. It was the Rites of Spring and I knew The Clash was coming to an end — no more Three Dog Night’s for me. I had The the answer — no more Tears for Fears or The Germs, I wasn’t just another Supertramp listening to a bunch of Talking Heads. I was on a Journey beyond Kansas Toto with a bad case of Flaming Lips… I couldn’t get a ticket on the Jefferson Airplane so I got the Kinks out and used my Wings to get back to Boston.
Once there, I figured I’d plug a few computer wires into the AC/DC outlet and call The Police. The Doobie Brothers showed-up instead, and together we loaded-up up Pandora and knew it wasn’t just another Cheap Trick.”
It was my salvation.
I hope my story has helped some of you folks out there to realize we’re not just a bunch of Monkees and Pandoraholism is real — it isn’t common — but you need to know you’re not alone. You have a chance, not like all those old Weezer’s who live here in America.
Someday we’ll all be Free. I’m probably listening right now. Thanks for letting me tell my story.
Peace & love.
- paul, loyal fan and self-proclaimed Pandoraholic
Originally published at latentdesign.blogspot.com on April 1, 2007.