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I will never profess to be a Peter Gabriel fan. His work with Genesis in the 1970s and consecutive solo career never really interested me—commercial progressive and post-prog rock, as a rule, is somewhat cheesy, over-produced, and boring. But there’s one song of his that makes me stop the radio scan every time I come across it, one song that seems to be on every 80’s music compilation. That one song blasted out of a boombox held up by John Cusack in Say Anything and symbolizes a last, desperate attempt to reclaim teen romance. That one song is “In Your Eyes.” In 1989 I was eleven, starting fourth grade, and dating girls was far away in the future, probably not something I would experience until 2025, if at all. And so, Cameron Crowe’s directorial debut about high school love didn’t even make a blip on my cultural radar. Neither did Peter Gabriel, for that matter. But sometime during college, when I decided current popular music and movies were for the most part not very good at all, a newfound appreciation for 80’s culture manifested itself. I discovered that all those teen dramas—The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, Weird Science—basically anything John Hughes had a hand in—evoke a certain false nostalgia for those of us who didn’t exactly share in those times but long for them anyway. High school in the 1990s was crueler than the on-screen depictions of high school in the 1980s seemed. Molly Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall, and John Cusack provided a social blueprint that just didn’t exist by the time I entered ninth grade—we didn’t have the easy stereotypes and class differences to fall back onto when I went to school. On the contrary, you had to figure out all by yourself who you were and what you believed in, all the while trying desperately to avoid the peer pressure that our parents warned us about from the day we turned thirteen. We had to be accepting and politically correct and open-minded and liberal thinkers and conscientious objectors and activists and DIY and punk rock (or post-punk (or at least proto-punk and into Iggy Pop)) and non-conformists. It wasn’t “cool” to use Daddy’s money or be trendy or form cliques or wear the same outfit as your best friend. Being a 90’s teen took a lot more energy than being an 80’s teen. This whole piece, plus many more, available only in livingproof #2. Order now.
Issues: #1: Crisis. [samples] #2: Rebound. [samples] #3: Genesis. [samples] #4: Rehearsal. [samples] #5: Rapprochement. [samples] Available for $3 each. Ordering info. Sanitary and Ship is free.	Reader, I think I might owe you an apology. You probably picked up this zine thinking it was going to be another installment of the Livingproof perzine, a series engages in the dissecting of failures in romance and the place of underground music in such a narrative. This zine doesn’t exactly follow that format. Indeed, upon first read, you may feel like I hoodwinked you into reading a paean to my favorite band, whom you likely don’t care about and may be disinclined entirely to check out after finishing the last page and closing this zine (or throwing it down in disgust partway through).... Read more.
Email list: Join the livingproof_announce email list. Enter your email address in the box below. Email:	It wasn’t hard to find a place to stay when I first moved to Chicago: my freshman year roommate Brad had an extra bedroom in his Lincoln Park apartment because his roommate had abandoned him for the summer. I could only afford to pay half of my share, but that was better than Brad paying for the whole thing himself. We shook hands and I moved in two days later. I spent that first Chicago summer exploring the city, both formally—I had a job canvassing pedestrians around the city for Greenpeace—and informally, as I learned my way around the CTA, started meeting people, and hung out at bars and rock clubs... Read more.
Semi-Related Links: Fall of Autumn Punk Planet Sanitary and Ship Splendid WLUW Zine World	Sometimes, when the end comes, it’s right on time. But very rarely do things end when it feels right. Too often the end is a surprise, it catches you off guard, and you’re left in the dust struggling to make sense in your grief. Not as often, but just as difficult, is the end that drags on, milking your patience and sympathy until you’re actually happy the end has come when it finally does arrive. It’s a relief, in those cases... Read more.