captainawesome

About once every twenty years or so there is a lull in pop culture. Things become stale and as the generation gap between young and old grows, the youth find themselves disillusioned. They look for an honest voice in music, film, literature. Anything to take there minds off of the dull dribble they call life, something they can relate to. This is the genius of Nick Hornbys High Fidelity. The last book to show such brutal honesty of the male psyche that I can remember was Catcher in the Rye. But this book is somehow a step beyond. Rob is fused to pop culture, new and old, and thats really what matters.

Any man that tells you he does not think like Rob is a liar. The only difference is that Rob will tell you the things most men try to subdue. Hes honest with out apology when he ends one chapter saying when his parents die, hell hardly feel a thing. Most men have tried to prepare themselves for this horrible fact since they discovered the grisly concept of death. One day, Ma and Pa are going to die. If you spend thirty years preparing yourself, you wont feel a thing. Even Laura, in her most honest moment, reveals a sense of exhilaration when she is told of her fathers demise. To her, for about three seconds, it was a rite of passage. Without parents to keep you clothed and fed, to watch out for you, you are truly an adult. Of course, the sensation wore off quickly and we as the reader are left with Laura, creating disturbing sounds at her fathers funeral.

What man hasnt been upset over a lost love? Every man has had a minimum of three freak out moments that are recreated within High Fidelitys pages (if its less, they are obviously 15 years old). Every man assumes, like Rob, that his ex is having the absolute greatest sex in the world, with out him. Every man day dreams about an ex being married, moving on, having kids. Its a syndrome called romantic depression; the fear of being replaced, before replacing the replacer.

How can women not understand men after reading this book? Half way through it I was tempted to scream Rob!! Stop!!! Now theyll all know. We as men wont be able to get away with ANYTHING!!! This romantic depression has always confused women. Yet heres Rob, laying it all on the line. Why is he so upset when Laura sleeps with Ian if he slept with Marie? Shouldnt they be Even-Steven? According to romantic depression, not by a long shot. You see, Laura left Rob. Not vice versa, not a mutual break up. By doing so, Laura has given Rob permission to do whatever (and whom ever) he wants. Rob, still holding up his end of the relationship contract, has not extended such permission to his significant other. This is partly why Rob never tells her fully about Marie. Yet in his inner monologue, we see him wanting to...struggling to. Hes conflicted even though he had permission.

Part of Rob assumes Laura knows. She new right away that he lit up a smoke in the flat, put on a record, and day dreamed about stenciling record label logos on his wall. So, according to guy logic, she knows... right? Well, this could be one of those times when Rob is wrong.

And thats the brilliance of this novel.

Rob isnt always right. He isnt fixed by the end. Hes flawed, an anti hero... almost. He is mans inner monologue. We are all Rob in our heads, before we speak. Well, those of us mildly stuck in our adolescence and obsessed with pop culture are anyways.

Why pop culture? Why is Rob obsessed with what people like (not what people are like)? Arent there more important things in life? Well... yeah. But does the Iraqi war effect Rob personally? Does the tax free zone in Antigua even mildly touch Robs bank account? No. But does Stevie Wonders song I Just Called To Say I Love You offensively enter Robs ear drum? Hell yes! It matters when Marvin Gaye is shot. It matters what is in someones record collection. Reservoir Dogs, Solomon Burke, the Beatles, these things effect Rob just as much as Alison Ashworth, Penny Hardwick and the rest of the top five. All of these have done more to him than any political movement or great war.

Christ, the man spent a few years of his life feeling the effects of the great Charlie debacle. Theres been a hint of the Alison incident in every single relationship since. Wars are fought over years. The inner struggle of completing a top five list, rounding out a record collection, figuring out what went wrong in life... these things take a life time.

Like making the perfect mix tape.

I can still remember the first mix tape I gave to a girl. I had my eye on her since I was 16 and, I guess like most relationships, music was at the core of it (Hell, we first met at a rock concert). For a late birthday present, I cracked open a blank cassette and sat for hours creating the perfect mix. Well... it wasnt quite perfect, but it did get the job done (I moved in with her when I was 19. Not the best idea mind you). I know it wasnt perfect for the simple reason that when we were 20 years old and she popped it into her tape deck on a road trip, we groaned at how dated it seemed. Filled with ska music and teen-punk rock, it really didnt sum up our feelings at the time (did I actually think that The Vandals were the quintessential punk group? Ugh!). It was like those snap shots of your dad with long hair and bell bottoms, before the bear belly, but during the terrible, teen aged mustache. You want to look the other way, but oddly, you are drawn to it. Its a moment frozen in pop culture of the past, and it will make you cringe every single time. This was my entrance into the world of wooing with mix tapes.

But it was the first of many to come.

Rob was right. You need to start off strong, but not blow your load early. So after track one, side one, you need to take it down just a notch. Too much, and youve lost her attention. Too little, and you seem to be trying too hard. There are many subtle unwritten rules to making the perfect tape. A main one that many guys seem to miss is the poetry. No matter what, shes going to over read into the lyrics of the songs. Please heed my warning: NEVER EVER EVER put songs like I Cant Help Falling In Love With You, or anything with forever or marriage in the title. Youre just setting yourself up to be branded a stalker. See, mix tapes are like the Indie-Rock bouquet of flowers. Girls enjoy them because they think you put a lot of time into them. In actuality, you spent a few hours and maybe three bucks. But shell love it, trust me.

The greatest mix tape I ever made now belongs to a girl that I had a two month fling with a few years back. I almost feel like stealing a line from John Cusak in Say Anything and calling her up, saying burn it, destroy it. It hurts me that its out there. Why? Because I poured my heart and soul into that damned 90 minute tape (or Elvis Costellos heart and At The Drive-Ins soul I guess).

I grew up with friends similar to Robs. The Musical Moron Twins I believe. We scoffed at people who actually liked bands like the Goo Goo Dolls (we called them the Replacements Jr.), or radio crap. We hunted for our music. If the record store was clean, smelled nice, or had a dress code for employees, you would not find us inside of its walls. No, we searched for places like Extreme Noise, The Electric Fetus (mind you when youre 13 these places are hard to get to. Theres the whole debacle of looking un-cool as your mom drops you off at the door. Championship Vinyl would have been a God send to us).

We were wrong of course. Just like Rob was. At the end, he finds he can like someone with Tina Turner in their record collection. So what if somebody likes a crap band like Good Charlotte? Just because the band sucks doesnt always mean the person who owns the album sucks (not always but sometimes). But we were elitists, thinking that by age 18, we knew more about music than any other person in the world. Those who knew less than us were mocked harshly without regret.

This is why High Fidelity appeals to men. Brutal F-ing honesty. No holding back, no apologizing. Just the top five pop culture whats its and what nots. While there is a lesson to be learned, Im only 22. Give me 15 more years and maybe Ill care about change and being wrong or biting my tongue or not caring about that damn Tina Turner record. Right now, Ive got my records and thats all I need.