60 Songs That Explain the '90s - Bush — “Glycerine”

Episode Date: May 20, 2026

We’re going back to our roots this week—back to our Toyota Corollas and Chrysler LeBarons or whatever other shitty cars we drove back in the ’90s—to blast some Bush. Rob ponders whether frontman Gavin Rossdale is a good lyricist and extends some empathy in the age of Nirvana, when no alt-rock band could compare, especially those singing about their “willies.” Finally, Rob is joined by national treasure and Rob’s daughter Yasi Salek, who comes to defend the lyricism of cheekbone himbo Gavin Rossdale. Host: Rob Harvilla Producers: Julianna Ress, Olivia Crerie, Chris Sutton, and Justin Sayles Additional Video Editing: Kevin Pooler Guest: Yasi Salek Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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with AI embedded at its core, working across every system, all ready to go from day one so you can hit the ground running. Bring it with SAP Grow. AI Cloud ERP for any size business. Hello, friends. A quick announcement before this week's episode. After this week, 60 songs will be going on its regularly scheduled hiatus until Wednesday, August 5th, 2026. That is the exact date. We will return.

You are encouraged to hold me to that date. Our last break took way too long, and I once again apologize. This break will be shorter, and it will end at the appointed time. Thank you so much for listening, and we will see you very soon. On April 19, 2018, a dude in Houston, Texas, posted what is now widely regarded as the single greatest Craigslist ad of all time. Object line, 1999 Toyota Corolla, Fine A.F. If you don't know what Fine A.F means by now, it's too late.

We got a guy selling his car here. We got a guy in 2018 selling his 1999 Toyota Corolla. That's the premise of this genuinely transcendent Craigslist ad. You know how people say we're living in late capitalism lately? late capitalism, an actual economic concept from the 1930s that I don't know anything about, but now it's a term that you mostly see people use on the internet as shorthand for everything sucks, right? A quarter pounder with cheese costs $35 now, late capitalism, Spirit Airlines shut down,

late capitalism, the M&M Fortnite skin, late capitalism, the trolls movies, yeah, but the very concept of late capitalism implies the existence of peak capitalism. A previous single identifiable point in human history when we perfected capitalism, when we fucking nailed it. But from then on, we totally biffed it, and it was all downhill from that single perfect moment onward. The 1999 Toyota Corolla Craigslist ad is peak capitalism. I got to read this thing to you.

Let's set the proper mood. Here we go. Quote, Thank you. Quote, you want a car that gets the job done? You want a car that's hassle-free? You want a car that literally no one will ever compliment you on? Well, look no further.

The 1999 Toyota Corolla. Let's talk about features. Bluetooth, nope. Sunroof, nope. Fancy wheels? Nope. rear view camera, nope, but it's got a transparent rear window and you have a fucking neck that can turn. End quote. Great start. There's pictures. I had forgotten that there's pictures of this car still

available. The Toyota Corolla Craigslist ad immediately went viral back in 2018 and it gets rediscovered and goes viral again periodically. And I reread the text in full every time, but I'd forgotten there 23 photos of the Toyota Corolla in question available alongside the ad. The dude drove it out to a nice field under some power lines and did a whole glamorous photo shoot like the Corolla was graduating from high school. That's a handsome looking automobile. Okay, let's continue. Quote, let me tell you a story.

One day my Corolla started making a strange sound. I didn't give a shit and ignored it. It went away. The end. You could take the engine out of this car, drop it off the Golden Gate Bridge, fish it out of the water a thousand years later, put it in the trunk of the car,

fill the gas tank up with Nutella, turn the key, and this puppy would fucking start right up. This car will outlive you. It will outlive your children. Things this car is old enough to do. Vote, yes. Consent to sex? Yes. Rent a car? It is a car. End quote. Some nice interior shots as part of the glamorous photo portfolio here. Exceptionally clean.

Exceptionally thorough vacuuming job. I don't regard myself as an especially messy person, but this is quite frankly the cleanest looking car I've ever laid eyes on. And it's a good thing, too. Hit it. Quote, this car's got head. It's seen some shit. People have done straight things in this car. People have done gay things in this car. It's not going to judge you like a fucking Volkswagen wood. That's very funny. But here comes the funniest part. You ready? Hit the deck. Quote, interesting facts. This car's exterior color is gray, G-R-A-Y, but its interior color is gray, G-R-A-Y, but its interior color is gray, G-R-R-A-R. In the owner's manual, oil is listed as optional. When this car was unveiled at the 1998 Detroit Auto Show, it caused all 2,000 attendees to spontaneously yawn.

The resulting abrupt change in air pressure inside the building caused a partial collapse of the roof. Four people died. The event is chronicled in the documentary Bored to Death. the story of the 1999 Toyota Corolla. If you've ever fantasized about being a big shot podcast editor, if you've ever wondered what that job entails precisely, I'll tell you what it entails. It entails receiving a slack message on a Saturday night

from your doofous podcast host, that's me, and the message from me reads, Hey, quick question, can I legally do a dramatic reading of a 419 word Craigsaw? list ad. Great shot of the Toyota Corolla's trunk, by the way. Pretty clean. Not as thoroughly vacuumed as the interior, but it's chill. A couple minor stains, but nothing worrisome in like a true crime sense. I'm going to skip ahead briefly. Almost done. Okay, quote, this car is as practical as a Roth IRA. It's as middle of the road as your grandpa during

his last silver alert. It says utilitarian as a member of a church whose scripture is based entirely on water bills. When I ran the Carfax for this car, I got back a single piece of paper that said, It's a Corolla, it's fine. Big finish. Let's face the facts, this car isn't going to win any beauty contests, but neither are you. Stop lying to yourself and stop lying to your wife. This isn't the car you want, it's the car you deserve.

The fucking 1999 Toyota Corolla. a photo of the fucking Corolla's engine, if that interests you, or if a photo of the engine conveys any particularly helpful information to you, which it absolutely does not for me. I can confirm that the car battery appears to be there, and this dude might be low on windshield washer fluid, but then again, maybe he's not. The rest of the shit under the hood here could be the back of a washing machine, and I'd have no idea. Okay, I skipped this part, and I've reworded it very, very slightly, but it's the most important part. Let's do it without music to minimize distractions. Brace yourself, quote, you want to know more? Great. I had my car fill out

a Facebook survey. Favorite food, spaghetti. Favorite TV show, Alf. Favorite band, tie, between the gin blossoms and bush. I want you to imagine a sea of Toyota Corolla's, a standing army of excessively sullied Toyota Corolla's. Let's say 10,000 of these majestic, unkillable gray beasts, G-R-A-Y, idling on a sweeping Texas plane, gas tanks full of Nutella,

thousand-year-old waterlogue engines roaring, roaring, windows down, power windows, vacuumed interior spotless and aching to be defiled anew by straight stuff and or gay stuff, with 10,000 factory-issue car radios, tuned to an active rock station and cranked all the way up and going, do-do-do-do-do, an English rock band called Bush. A Bush song from 1994 called Everything Zen. that it said favorite band tie between Bush and the gin blossoms, but I switched it and put Bush last

for dramatic effect. Full disclosure. A quick little righteous broish iconic guitar riff. And then 10 seconds of what might as well be silence. Silence being an unfamiliar and generally unwelcome presence on active rock

radio or on alternative rock radio or on, brace yourself, classic rock radio. just the slightest faintest ascending siren-like tone there, in the glorious aftermath of doodoo-d-d-do-d-d-d-h. And then, after 10 seconds of exquisite lingering near silent anticipation, the song roars to life and 10,000 Toyota Corolla's accelerate at a modest, reliable pace.

We don't talk enough about our cars. We 90s teenagers, so many, Many of us spent the whole decade aimlessly driving around listening to alternative rock radio in our used cars. And we should talk more about them. Here's to our used Honda Accords. Our Ford Tauruses. Our Oldsmobile cutlasses. Our Chevy caprices.

Our Saturns. Our geometros. Our Dodge intrepids. Our Nissan Ultima's. Our trucks, perhaps, of various makes and models. are Chrysler-Lebarons, my Chrysler-Liberin, my used 1985 black Chrysler-Liberin with a minor stain on the interior ceiling

on the driver's side that I did not immediately realize was caused by my hair gel. Tender and innumerable were the nights I spent aimlessly tooting around in my 1985, Chrysler-Liberin. Tender and innumerable where the nights I spent aimlessly tooting around

in my 1985 Chrysler-Liberin listening to alternative radio. Tender and innumerable were the nights I spent aimlessly tuning around in my 1985 Chrysler-Liberin listening to alternative rock radio and everything Zen by Bush came on. And I thought, oh, hell yeah. And just like those old TV ads for the Freedom Rock CDs, I turned it up, man. The righteous, broish sardonic little smirk of the line, I don't think so.

How did we even acquire these used cars back in the 90s, back before Craigslist, back before the internet in general? Seriously, did you just have to walk around until you saw a for-sale sign in the windshield of a car in somebody's driveway? The past is inexplicable and unknowable. So you drive around in your Accord, Taurus, Cutlass, Caprice, Intrepid, Saturn, Metro, Ultimate Liberin, or Truck. You listen to Alternative Rock Radio. And we've talked about this. Via the radio, you internalize the first 10 seconds of hundreds of alternative rock songs.

And you create subconsciously, or consciously, a taxonomy, a hierarchy, an emotional ranking of all these 10-second opening salvos. You catalog how each individual opening 10-second burst makes you feel when that particular song comes on the radio. One song ends and you think, I wonder what the next song's going to be. And then the next song starts and you feel something. Are you happy about this new song? Are you ecstatic? Are you surprised? Are you disgusted?

Art thou bored? Try it. Just react to this. React without thinking. Are you happy right now to hear Santa Monica by the Portland, Oregon rock band Everclear? 1995, if you grew up in the 90s and enjoyed even a casual relationship with alternative rock radio, you heard the first seven seconds of Santa Monica. Between those chords is the emotional core of Santa Monica.

You heard that guitar intro at least 30,000 times, and you felt something all 30,000 times. You felt the same something or a slightly different something, a gradually increasing affection something, or a gradually hardening disdain something. Try it again. Are you ecstatic right now to hear good by the New Orleans rock band better than Ezra? Also 1995. Yeah, that's right. The jovial tunefulness of the first 12 seconds of good, the tasteful crunch of those electric guitars,

and most importantly, that simple baseline, that reliable and attainable baseline, that hassle-free baseline that gets the job done. The good baseline will outlive you. It will outlive your children. Whether I could articulate this at the time or not, And you better believe I could not articulate this at the time, because as a 17-year-old, I couldn't articulate jack shit. What I loved about the radio in 1995 was that it changed your mood with every song.

It changed your mood every four minutes or so. Even if the change to your mood was undetectable and unmeasurable and unnoticed in infinitesimal, it still happened. You reacted. You often reacted without thinking. The radio is a magical micro-mood swing machine. It would be rude not to play this one, given that this is that guy's 1999 Toyota Corolla's other favorite band. The slightly faster jovial tunefulness and tasteful crunch of the first 12 seconds of Hay Jealousy by Tempe Arizona rock band Gin Blossoms.

1992, the Toyota Corolla. If you don't expect too much from it, you might not be let down. I dare say, hey, jealousy lifted your mood even if you thought it didn't. And you want the truth? It is an undeniable scientific fact that Hey Jealousy by the Gin Blossoms sounded better on a sucky used car stereo speaker system. A little blown out trunk rattling at any volume buzz to the base, A little fuzzy radio static because some jerk broke off your antenna.

A tin can telephone line thinness to the guitars? Perfect. You don't listen to Hey Jealousy on your $5,000 high-fi home stereo system while wearing a tweed jacket and smoking a pipe in a recliner in your den or whatever. You listen to Hey Jealousy on the half-dead, busted tape deck car stereo of a Geo Metro that might burst into flames that end. moment. The song sounds better the shittier your car is. No offense to your car. One more. One more song you heard 30,000 times on the radio and the song's quality objectively improved as the

resale value of your car plummeted. Possum Kingdom by Fort Worth, Texas rock band TOTES. 1994. I always assume this song was about a vampire behind the boathouse. I'll show you my dark secret, etc. And in time, I came to appreciate that the song itself had mysterious blood-sucking vampiric qualities. Possum Kingdom sounded better every time you heard it by actively draining the life force of your car. One day your brakes will fail, but Possum Kingdom never will. Notice that you don't need to hear any choruses, or for that matter, any words to any of these songs. Santa Monica and Good and Hay Jealousy and Possum Kingdom are the Roth IRAs of alternative rock, unflashy and dependable and eternal and identifiable by their crunchy, shiny, agreeable guitar tones alone.

But here's the question. Here's the challenge. Here's where we add capitalism to the equation, Not yet late capitalism. The reason you're hearing all these songs on alt-rock radio 30,000 times apiece, is because the man wants you to drive your accord, Taurus, Cutlass, Caprice, intrepid, Saturn, Metro, Ultima, LeBaron, or truck, to your local record store or your local mall or whatever, so you can buy one of these CDs for 1799. You know the deal.

We've also discussed the deal often in this venue. You hear a song on the radio. You like it. You drive to Camelot music or whatever. You fork over $20. You get one of them car CD player adapter situations, power adapter in the cigarette lighter, weird blank tape in the tape deck.

The CD player itself balanced on your lap as you drive to minimize any skipping caused by turbulence. And then you hope this CD has more than one good song to justify your investment of basically 20 bucks. So let's try that now. The 29,000th time you hear Possum Kingdom by Toadies, you go, all right, geez, fine, and you go buy the 1994 Toadies album Rubberneck on CD,

and you hope it has more than one good song, and it turns out it does, and you are relieved. The song, Tyler, also from the 19. 1994 toady's album rubberneck is also a good song i heard that insidiously hooky police sireness guitar ref in somebody else's car exactly once and i committed it to memory much respect toadies more than one good song you know what i regarded as the height of luxury in 1994 those especially cool people who had a super convenient little cd booklet attached to their driver's side sun visors holding like 12 CDs,

so those people could shield their eyes from the piercing sunset while also queuing up the 1992 Gin Blossoms album New Miserable Experience, which hopefully has another song as good as Hey Jealousy. Oh hell yeah, it does. Dig the Melancholy Jangle

of Found Out About You, one of a nigh-unprecedented 10 good song. on the 1992 Gin Blossoms album, New Miserable Experience. It might be 11 good songs out of 12 total. I'll listen to the whole album again and get back to you. Regardless, gin blossoms, way more than one good song. Although notably found out about you is the only song

on New Miserable Experience that qualifies as a good song but also has gripping, ominous, stalker-adjacent overtones. Notice that you still don't need to hear any choruses. any choruses or for that matter any words to fully internalize the greatness of these good songs notice that ominous melancholy jangle also sounds better on lousy used car sound systems I will go to my grave insisting that this one sounds better on cassette in the blood another good song on the 1995 better-than-esra album deluxe which I had on Cassad for some reason, and it sounded better that way. Blaring out of my Chrysler-Labern's

rattling tape deck. It's the tuneful but insistent do-d-d-d-d-d-d- guitar riff slash drumbeat. There, which sounded fantastic, even as it punched four new holes in my speakers and probably my muffler every time. Better than Ezra. More than one good song. But there is an even rarer, even a more coveted category amidst alternative rock CDs that cost 1799 a piece. Plenty of those CDs had more than one good song, but precious few of those CDs

had a good song that I could plausibly learn to play on guitar. I just looked. The 1995 Everclear album Sparkle and Fade starts with eight good songs in a row and features nine good songs total, several of which I could kind of sort of play on guitar, but it is the ever-clear song Strawberry

that bears the dubious distinction of being the first song I ever attempted to sing in public at a coffee shop in the bucolic suburban town square of my teenage-adopted hometown. I really appreciated this single chord here for the first ten seconds. I forgot if I went, nah at the beginning like Everclear did but I hope I didn't

which means of course that I probably did go nah at the beginning oh well ask you for a slow ride going nowhere you look like Satan you asked me if I want to get high a couple of bags down in old town you tie your arm asked me if I wanted to dry

To me personally there was no more precious resource in 1995 than a good song that I could plausibly learn to play on guitar. And so it was with Strawberry by Everclear. I'm guessing that I interpreted you tie your arm as some sort of highfalutin metaphor about self-imprisonment, which I suppose it was. Yikes. Do you think I sang the F-bomb near the end of this song? I'm guessing I sang the F-bomb and I sang it way too infrism.

Fatically. Last thing I'm in the air, I woke up in the street crawling with my strawberry burns. In long years in a straight light, they fall like water. Yes, I guess I fucked up again. It's unfortunate how clearly I can picture myself going, Yes, I guess I fucked up again at the Cool Beans Coffee House,

or whatever it was called. Yeah, I'm guessing I thought he got strawberry burns sliding into home plates during Little League. Strawberry by Everclear. First song I ever sang and played on guitar in public, as an 18-year-old, I think. The beginning of my mercifully not long and emphatically not-illustrious career

singing and playing guitar in public. Anybody who's ever bought a CD for 1799 because they liked one song they heard on the radio knows the vital, life-affirming, tremendously relieving experience of finding another good song on that CD. Two good songs will suffice. More than two good songs is ideal, but just two is acceptable. And anybody who's ever tried to sing and play guitar at the same time knows the vital,

life-affirming, tremendously relieving to you, if not necessarily to your future listeners, experience of finding a good song that you can plausibly learn to play on guitar. There weren't many of those songs. There weren't enough, but there were some. And let me just say, that Craigslist guy's Fine AF 1999 Toyota Corolla knew what was up. My name is Rob Hartvilla.

This is the second bonus episode of 60 songs that explain the 90s, and this week we are discussing glycerine by Bush. From their 1994 album, 16. stone. It's pretty much just those four chords, man. Every time I name the chords

in a song specifically, somebody emails me and politely informs me that I got the chords wrong. So let's just say it's four chords and leave it at that. But okay, that first chord there is an F probably, and historically I profoundly dislike

the F chord, adverbs. My hand would cramp up and I would mutter obscenities. Yes, I guess I fucked up again. The F-cord should be illegal. But overall, glycerine was offensively easy to play on guitar, and that is part of why I love it. We'll be back after these messages from late capitalism. This spring, denim gets a softer, lighter update. Introducing Old Navy's drapey denim wide leg, a new fit that moves with you. It's everything you want denim to feel like for summer. Easy, breathable, and effortlessly cool.

With a fit that creates natural movement and a wide leg that feels modern, not overwhelming. Plus, that signature, wait, for this price? Moment. Old Navy's drapey denim wide leg. This episode is brought to you by L'Oreal Group. Beauty is a powerful force that moves us. That's why L'Oreal Group has built a business that is inclusive at its heart with 100% of its brands, championing diversity.

with 25,000 professional opportunities for people under 30 worldwide and 54% of leading positions held by women. Diversity is a strength that helps L'Oreal Group create the best beauty products for all people. Visit L'Oreal.com to learn more. Did you name your teenage car? Did you name your first car Bertha or whatever? I didn't, and maybe I should have, though I did occasionally consider nicknaming my Chrysler-Liberin after a 1994 Neil Young song that I think I only heard on the radio twice, but it made quite an impression on me.

In 1994, the coolest job I could imagine was to be the guy who yelled, Peace of crap in the background of the Neil Young song called Peace of Crap. I feel like the term backing vocalist does not suffice to describe what that guy's bringing to the party. I might have heard that song on the radio just once, but piece of crap made enough of an impression on me that I still remember that I was driving through the parking lot of a drug mart when I heard it.

Join us now as we peruse the April 18th, 1996 issue of Rolling Stone magazine, featuring on the cover the somewhat enragingly popular London post-grunge rock band Bush, who for the first 10 years or so anyway consist of Gavin Rossdale on vocals and rhythm guitar, Nigel Pulsford on lead guitar, Dave Parsons on bass and Robin Goodridge on drums. Yes, sir, there's all four guys in Bush,

beaming from the cover of, no, I'm sorry, that's incorrect. Actually, it's just Bush frontman Gavin Rossdale on the cover of Rolling Stone, lying in bed shirtless and lasciviously biting his, his thumb and index finger, his legs spread wide enough to accommodate a T set. One lump or two. Next to the cover line, three million albums, five hit singles. Why won't anyone take Gavin Rossdale seriously?

I got a few theories. The opening paragraph of Rolling Stone's Bush cover story reads as follows. Quote, I'm going to jump him, I swear to God. announces a barely legal girl in a breeder's t-shirt as she and her friend rush the stage at New York's CBGB. They're hanging from the walls tonight, these young women, risking life and limb in the hope that Gavin Rossdale of Bush will just once flutter his delicate eyelids their way. Rossdale is quite the genetically engineered mid-90s pop star, from his casually disaffected pose to his grainy, yearning voice. to his enviable cheekbones and matted locks. Gavin, notes Bush manager Dave Durrell,

is a musician cursed with a model's face, if that's a curse. End quote. Yo, yes, sir, here we've got somewhat enragingly handsome and popular London post-grunge rock band Bush playing CBGB, the iconic to the point of calcified

East Village punk rock mecca that gave the world the Ramones and television and Blondie and the talking heads. and whatnot. Sacrilege. Bush, while performing live at CBGB, do a cover of Pretty Vacant by the Sex Pistols. Double Sacrilege. I had never actually heard Bush's cover of the 1977 Sex Pistols Anthem, pretty vacant, so I figured we all ought to hear that. That's Bush covering the song live in 1995, though I strongly doubt it's from CBGB, but nonetheless, Gavin Rossdale can convincingly scream the word vacant, but he cannot quite convincingly sneer the word vacant.

You feel me? In Rolling Stone regarding Bush doing pretty vacant at CBGB, Rolling Stone says, quote, there's something subtly wrong, though, about this reading of the punk anthem. The carefully replicated groove is a little too comfortable, and where Johnny Rotten of the sex pistols railed against the world through splintered teeth. Rossdale's sullen tones speak of privilege both social and musical. The world accepts him. Rossdale, you might think, has as much right to be singing pretty vacant as he does to be singing it here at the birthplace of punk rock.

Then again, he sure is pretty. End quote. Okay, what the fuck, dude. Okay, Bush form in London, England in 1992, and some stuff happens. They write some songs and play them for people to generally laudatory effect, etc. But then I personally become aware of Bush's existence in the fall of 1994, when their debut album 16 Stone comes out, and I hear the lead single, Everything's Then, on the radio.

In my 1985, Chrysler-Liberin, while I drove through the parking lot, of let's say Denny's. I'm just guessing, but it's a good guess. Not the rock and roll Denny's in my town, the other Denny's, the normal Denny's. The exterior of the rock and roll denies was chrome-plated and it had a jukebox. If there was an additional rock and roll element to the rock and roll denies, I forget. And sitting in my car in 1994, within 30 seconds, I am confronted with an existential question that haunts me to this day. Is Bush frontman? Gavin Rossdale, a good lyricist? Are these good lyrics? There must be something we can eat, maybe find another lover. Should I fly to Los Angeles, find my asshole brother? Are you compelled

by these seemingly disconnected words, these fragmented images? Are you intrigued? Do you desire more information about Gavin's asshole brother? Are you intrigued when I tell you that in interviews Gavin Rossdale frequently cited as a major influence, superstar beat generation poet Alan Ginsberg? Does Gavin Rossdale name-dropping Alan Ginsberg impress you? Or does Gavin Rossdale name-dropping Alan Ginsberg cause you to mentally or physically make a jerking-off motion? Here's a simpler question.

Ever heard of David Bowie? I'm just guessing, but it's a good guess that I did. not immediately realize that the line Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow is a direct quote of the 1971 David Bowie classic life on Mars, sacrilege. And therefore the second line, Dave's on sale again. That also made no sense to me. Did Gavin Rossdale just refer to David Bowie as Dave? Double sacrilege. But I'm guessing I vibed pretty hard with Gavin's last line there. We're so bored you're to blame. That's a universal sullen teenager type statement. But that's also recognizably a very 1994 specific sentiment. We're so bored you're to blame. What does that

remind me of? All right, it reminds me of here we are now entertain us. Have I mentioned yet that basically half of Rolling Stone's Bush cover story concerns Gavin Rossdale's alleged possible romantic relationship with Courtney Love and that that the headline of Bush's Rolling Stone cover story is Nirvana wannabes? One word. Nirvana wannabes. That's pretty rude, man. Did you immediately realize that this line from Everything's End is basically quoting Jane's Addiction? I didn't. Sacrilege. No, I am not aware. Sitting in my Chrysler-Labern. digesting the moons over my hammy, I just ate at Denny's, just guessing,

that when Gavin Rostale sings, there's no sex in your violence a dozen times or so during everything's end, he's kind of quoting the 1988 Jane's Addiction song, Ted comma, just admit it, dot, dot, dot, where this happens. And if you wanted to be bitchy about it, which lots of people did, you could say that Perry Farrell of Jane's Addiction singing sex is violent, sounds notably sexier and exponentially more violence than Gavin Rossdale of

Bush singing, there's no sex in your violence. The haters insisted that there is simply not enough violence in Gavin Rossdale's sex. I am 16 years old and reading the 1996 Bush cover story in Rolling Stone magazine, and I am always starting to truly understand that an extremely popular rock band that I'm super into personally can be widely regarded as hopelessly uncool. Adverbs. A quick summary

of recent rock history. Nirvana smells like teen spirit comes out in 1991 and the world changes overnight. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Grunge blows up. Underground 80s college rock mutates into super

mainstream 90s alternative rock. The buzz bin, lalapalooza, etc. guitar, quiet verses and loud choruses, sardonic smirking lyrics, the at least vaguely implied presence of sex and or violence, and very consciously, very publicly, with all these hot new alternative rock bands, there is a taxonomy, a hierarchy, a crowdsourced emotional ranking, and most importantly, just an ambient sense of which of these bands are cool, Nirvana was, and which of these bands aren't cool.

Bush ain't. Bush are an English rock band, inadvertently named after the super uncool and very recently not reelected former presidents of the United States. Bush are critically unaclaimed. It says right here in Rolling Stone that according to most critics,

Bush are, quote, a bunch of lightweight Anglo-Arivists, that's French, feeding off a scene with decade-deep, underground roots. According to this view, REM, Sonic Youth, and the Pixies did not slog around the 80s college circuit in unheeded vans to make the world safe for a bunch of MTV confections like Bush, or for that matter, candlebox, better than Ezra, collective soul, sponge, and silver chair. End quote, silver chair. Excuse me a second. You want the mother of all rock songs that sound better the shittier your car is? Hit it, boys. From their 1995 debut album Frogstomp, one word, and that album's got five good songs total.

Here we have the Australian teenage rock band Silver Chair, one word, with their suspiciously Cobainian breakout hit, Tomorrow. When you buy a new car and you first drive it off the lot, when you exit the car dealership, your car immediately loses half its value. When tomorrow by Silverchair comes on your car radio, your new car loses the other half of its value. It's a great song, though, so it's a fair trade. By 1995, we've lost Kurt Cobain. We've lost Nirvana. And maybe we've already lost the whole moment, the whole grunge moments, the whole alternative rock moments. But we're all soldiering on anyway.

And by the mid-90s, we Rolling Stone subscribers, at least, are painfully aware of who the cool rock bands are and who the cool rock bands ain't pearl jam cool stone temple pilots uncool sound garden cool candle box uncool the breeders cool seven Mary three uncool however this taxonomy is painfully clear to me as I read about these vans but there is no such coolness divide between these bands when I'm listening to 10 straight hours of alternative rock radio on the radio all these bands more or less sound the same to me, which is to say they all sound awesome. The Bush song Little Things sounds phenomenal on my Chrysler-Liberin's fuzzed-out radio.

Little Things is a remarkably grouchy and moody and aggressive and, yes, violent song, what with the Little Things, Taryn it Gavin's brains again. But it's PG-13 violence at worst. It's Beavis and Buthead Frog Baseball. violence. It's rousing, but somehow not disturbing. Already by 1994, I am becoming the sort of person too squeamish to watch horror movies. So I'll just read the plot summaries of horror movies on Wikipedia once somebody gets around to inventing Wikipedia. And thus, this sanitized groatiness of little things caters to my personal squeamishness. I like this song. It seems to me that everyone

likes this song and moreover everyone owns this CD everyone owns the bush album 16 stone 16 stone by the way works out to 224 pounds and i did not weigh 224 pounds in high school and i don't weigh that now everyone's got this CD in their personal driver's side visor booklet 16 stone peaks at number four on the billboard album chart and has already sold 3 million copies in America by the time Gavin Rossdale's serving tea on the cover of Rolling Stone in 1996. In that cover story, Gavin says, quote, the criticism of us is built on a fear of what people didn't predict of something that might actually be worthy of their attention. I probably have more criticisms of our music than people who don't like us.

But even if we stop tomorrow, there's 3 million people who've bought this album, and 3 million people can't be complete morons. People feel stuff. Even if they connect with one phrase, they connect with it. So maybe there is something real about us. End quote. Are you referring, Gavin, to the line in little things that goes, I touch your mouth, my willy is food?

Is Bush frontman Gavin Rostale a good lyricist? Are these good lyrics? As a teenage amateur rock critic, my impulse is to say that, I touch your mouth, my williest food is objectively bad. If there is any subtext to that line, keep me out of it. Right? Right. But as a teenager with a used car, my impulse is to say that addicted to love,

I'm addicted to bullshit, is an objective. effectively friggin' awesome line. Any rock song that lets you sing along to a 20-pound swear word is automatically great. The Bush album 16 Stone has, let's see here, one, two, three, four, five, six, at least six good songs. Alien, the moody, bass-driven, penultimate, semi-power ballad is the least radio-friendly good song on the first Bush record.

whereas this, obviously, is the most radio-friendly good song on the first Bush record. Machine Head That is the song from the first Bush record most likely to instantly, miraculously change your mood when that opening guitar riff comes on the radio. I've got captions on YouTube, and when I started watching the Machine Head video just now, the captions in parentheses said, energetic grunge rock music. I concur.

You are most likely ecstatic to hear Bush's machine head. Sold out hockey arena crowds tend to be ecstatic when Machine Head comes on. I bet the chorus to Machine Head would have been pretty easy to learn to play on guitar

if I'd ever bothered trying. How hard could that have been to play, really, honestly? What are Bush songs about? Are they about? anything? Does it matter? Talking to the website Song Facts in 2017, song facts, a splendid publication predicated on the idea that songs can have

facts, Gavin Rostale says, quote, there's always got to be something within there, threads of things, but I like that sort of Ginsburg-y stream of consciousness approach to words rather than, say, country songwriting, where there are narratives and stories and places and names and descriptions. That's a specific approach and I've never related to that because for me it tied things down too much. I like broader stories. It doesn't always have to be time and place and descriptions. End quote. This is about as straightforward as Gavin's going to get lyrically.

Come down one word is easily the second best song on the first Bush album, I think. I can confirm that that escalating series of yeah's there, yeah, yeah, yeah, sounded transcendence on a busted car stereo. And it's taken me all this time to find out what I need is as plain spoken as I think you want Gavin Rossdale to get. If you ask for anything more lyrically straightforward, this dude's going to start talking about his willy again.

I'd never thought too hard about the fact that Bush are English. Bush are a rock band from London, who put out their Blockbuster debut album in 1994, the same year Brit Pop blew up, the same year Oasis put out definitely maybe, and Blur put out Park Life. And yet, Bush are the least Brit pop-sounding British band imaginable. Bush are the most American-sounding British band,

imaginable. The muscle car distorted guitars, the hockey arena bluster, the echoes and or name drops of Kurt Cobain and Alan Ginsberg and Tom Waits and Jane's addiction. In fact, the most British thing about Bush is that sometimes in interviews, Gavin Rossdale talked shit about blur, talking to the independent in 1997 in response to the question, what are Bush about? Do they have an aim, a Gavin Rossdale says, quote, the only theme I can think of is like, like trying to find a way through it all. We want people to identify with our confusion, confusion about how you feel, where you're going, what your part is, and stuff. That's why I couldn't understand the hugeness of blur. Their stuff was always sort of contrived.

It wasn't really about where they were at or what they thought about stuff. end quote. That's rude. That's rude and also funny. Do you think it's possible that Gavin Rossdale of Bush was talking shit about blur in 1997? Because he writes Bush song super sincerely, whereas the 1997 Blur hit Song 2 sounds like Blur trying to sounds like Bush as a shit-talking joke? I think it's possible this is why Bush doesn't like Blur. I'll tell you one thing. You play machine head and song two back to back at a hockey game, and you're guaranteed two hat tricks and a goalie fight.

I'll tell you another thing. I was pretty thoroughly confused as a teenager in 1994, and I gravitated toward rock music that could make my confusion sound beautiful and romantic and profound and stuff. And I don't mind telling you that every time this song came on my car radio, my soul sang. Woohoo! If you're watching, you may have observed that the glycerine video is like a

Glissorine video is like 70% close-ups of Gavin Rossdale. It's very cheekbones forward video. And much like the cover of Rolling Stone, there ain't no other member of Bush in sight. He's a handsome fella, Gavin is. And visually, in all their music videos, Bush operates like a band fully aware of the fact that their lead singer is a handsome fella. Glissorine is the fourth single released from the Bush album, 16 Stone, alt-rock radio-wise, used car-wise. This song did not immediately feel as dominant, as omnipresent,

as everything's in or little things or come down or machine head. But glycerine charted the highest, number 28, on the Hot 100, and it's got the most Spotify streams now. And also, this is a less scientific measurement, but nonetheless, every single amateur guitar player from 1995 onward has attempted to play glycerine. There's a song fact for you. You know what else?

Every single amateur guitar player from 1995 onward has succeeded in playing glycerine. It's easy. It's just four chords, basically. F and three other chords. There's a bridge, too, to glycerine, but if you forget the bridge or it's too hard to play, just skip it.

It doesn't matter. The greatness of glycerine cannot be extricated from the flagrant simplicity of glycerine. I don't mean this ugly, but the lyrics to glycerine mostly don't matter. I did in mind, it's not my kind, it's not my time to wonder why. It doesn't particularly mean anything.

It doesn't have to mean anything. Only those four chords matter. Their dependability, their accessibility, no Bluetooth, no sunroof, no fancy wheels. But that's not to say that Bush are the Toyota Corolla of Rock. bands and glycerine is the Toyota Corolla of Bush songs. The magic trick of glycerine is that it is an insultingly easy song to play but it still radiates a

vague mysterious mystical complexity. Glissorine somehow transforms a Toyota Corolla into a space shuttle. That's as close as this song comes to being directly profound lyrically. We live in a wheel where everyone steals, but when we rise, it's like strawberry fields. Talking to the website Rock Sound in 2024, Gavin Rossdale explains it like this. Quote, this lyric essentially outlines how shitty the world is. Strawberry Fields is not only a place in Liverpool,

but it's been eulogized by the Beatles. That phrase sums up the balance of life. I still think that life is terrible, but there are also all these amazing things within it. Everyone is struggling with something, and you never know what somebody's dealing with that day. I'm not a pessimist. I'm an optimist, but I'm surrounded by loss, bereavement, and people that break.

Because of that, when I get all these wonderful times, I celebrate those. End quote. The world is shitty and life is terrible, but sometimes the perfect song comes on the radio, and suddenly you're ecstatic for the next four minutes. Dig the cello. Love the cello. That's the chorus. The chorus is mostly the same four chorus.

but you just play them a little harder and more passionately. Glissorine is about a girlfriend, an ex-girlfriend. Gavin Rossdale talked about it on Howard Stern in 1995 right before playing the song. I knew that. I didn't know that,

but I figured it was an ex-girlfriend thing. But it doesn't matter. Glissorine is not an ex-girlfriend song to me. It's canonically a car radio song and an aspiring guitarist song. Glissorine is the song you hear on your car radio and then attempt to play at your high school talent show. It's either that or plush by Stone Temple Pilots and plush has got way more chords.

Glissorine is a pessimistic power ballad that radiates enough optimism that you might convince yourself you can sing it and play it in public, and maybe you can. Plus maybe you can write a song this simple and transcendence someday and become a rock star yourself, maybe. Definitely you can't. Sorry. Bush will never be this huge again, and we will never be this young again. Sorry. For the next trick, Bush will put out an album in 1996 called Razor Blade Suitcase, produced by famed, off-putting, misanthropic grumpus Steve Albini,

genius super producer for the Pixies and Nirvana and so forth. And indeed, for those of you still emotionally invested in what 90s alt-rock stole, from 80s college rock, Razor Blade suitcase sounds more like the Pixies than Nirvana ever did. Just wanted to be myself. Yeah, you did. That song is called Swallowed,

and it sounds like the Breeders, actually, and it totally rules. But any Blythe comparisons to other bands, that's the bitchy rock critic in me talking. And what I prize about glycerine specifically is how clearly I can still sense the confused, ecstatic, used Chrysler-Liberin-owning teenager in me. Not talking at all, just feeling. Nostalgia does not operate with the precision of a fancy rear-view camera. Nope.

Nostalgia is just a transparent rear window. But fortunately, you have a fucking neck that can turn. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our dear friend Yassi Salick, host of Bansplaine, podcast, Super Genius, international icon, 90 scholar, health influencer, my work daughter and friend to all. Yasi, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Dad, it's such a pleasure to be back, even though only for you will I come to this scary Guantanamo studio cave and put on these horribly unflattering. headphones that is really giving

what's the brother and something about Mary Warren that's a deep pull right there your computer is blocking your shirt which is a Mickey Mouse shirt are you wearing a Mickey Mouse shirt because of the Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow line No although I did coordinating it did occur to me that that was a beautiful synergy although I'm sure as you know as a deep scholar

that's a David Bowie reference right yes so you can't really make fun of that because then you know that's true you'd be making fun of David Bowman exactly okay thank you for being here thank you for being in the Guantanamo cave on my behalf I feel terrible this is where they keep the podcasters actually at the ring that's right that we live here they don't let us go probably for probably the best for everybody um you have described glycerine by bush as one of the top 10 crying alone in my room songs and I I I want to

wanted to ask to start off, what is it about this song that provokes such a strong reaction? When you cry to glycerine, what are you crying about? Why does this song make you cry? First of all, thank you so much for being the historian, documentary and of the most embarrassing things I've ever said. Like having a, you know, being normal, keeping a list of crying songs and then talking about it publicly. I just, I find this song very emotionally evocative. It's, very sad. It's very tender. There is a deep sense

of resignation to it. It also, you know, what is this? 94? Yes. It really throws me back to being 12 where I was sad all the time. So, you know. Yeah, yeah.

Part of it is probably just like memory of nostalgia of the saddest time of my life. Teenage angst is paid off well. Yes, exactly. I turned out fine. I'm a podcaster. I'm fine. Everything went according to plan. Best case scenario. Yes. Yes. You don't have to name all 10, but do you know offhand any of your other top 10 crying alone in my room songs? Do you have like a physical ranking written down anywhere? The truth is is way more than 10. So I'll just

get back to the brief. It's more like too hot. It's the hot 100 crying alone in my room. It could be like, you know, you can do a 24-hour stint if you wanted to. All right, let's go. God of wine, third-eye blind, grounded by pavement. Also, Zurich is stained by pavement. The This Mortal Coil. Zerke is stained is interesting. Grounded, I guess.

Just hold me back or let me run. Okay, I get it. I get it. Any other Bush songs? No. Gray Street, Dave Macon Band. D.M.B. Of course.

Loro, Benback. Amy Manskeper of the scientist. We don't have all day. That's true. But that's the healthy cross section of sad 90s. It's genre agnostic, I think. That's right. That's right.

For me personally, like at my high school, I was what? I was 16 when Glissarine came out. And this song was legitimately famous among terrible amateur guitar players as being a song that you could actually learn to play on guitar, right? It's mostly four chords. Like the greatness is tied up in its, accessibility. Like, did you get any kind of that vibe from glycerine?

Not at all. Famously, I cannot play guitar. So I don't, I didn't, none of that made it through my thick skull. Actually, are, like, when I did try to play guitar, the song that was, like, presented as you two can play this is black by Pearl Jam. Did you not have that as well? I did not know. Because I do think it's similarly just, like, a few things.

I'm saying that. It feels less repetitive to me, but thinking about it, I can see that. I'm sure that most alternative rock songs, if you want to be totally blunt about it, are pretty accessible. Like, we're not talking about King Crimson here in general, genre-wise. I never tried to play, I tried to play daughter, right? And that was too hard. I'm calm.

You have a guitar right there behind you. Do you want to pick it up and strum a few? I do not. No, that is a decorative guitar. That is actually, that's actually made out of cake. You know, that, yeah, it's not, it's not real. Did you bust that song out in your, in your high school coffee shop, open mic circuit? In college, you know, the Pearl Jam song I played in college was Wishlist.

Okay. Oh, wish, what, like off of yield. You were like, I'm cool. I'm not like other girls. I'm very cool. Yeah. I was exactly like other girls. I don't think I ever did glycerine or any other Bush song in any kind of open mic night. I made several terrible errors, but that was not one of them.

I don't think that would have worked for me. You're long, I'm presuming, I don't want to presume, but you're probably long monologue, but did you have an emotional connection with glycerine? I did, yes. It wasn't a crying alone in my room song, but I understood, I connected to like this deep yearning romantic thing with it. The cello, I think, helped a lot. Strings.

Right? And I, something about its simplicity. there was a hypnotic quality for me with it that really set it apart from the rest of the album and the rest of any other Bush song. So it wasn't like super emotional for me, but I did sort of vibe with it on a semi-romantic level. And I just remember it as a song,

like you do like a talent show, a high school talent show. Like you either try to do glycerine or you try to do plush by Stone Temple pilots. Those are your two options. If you've been playing guitar for like four to six weeks. I think if you were a really ugly 12-year-old with a unibrow and frizzballs and some light to moderate acne, and you were like, no one will ever love me the way Gavin Rosdell loves the subject of this song.

It hits different, if you know what I mean. I see. I see. Just as a hypothetical situation. That sounds terrible. That sort of dovetails with my real question today, which is like when you go back and you read, Bush's press in the mid-90s like Rolling Stone, as you do. For fun.

I know you do. All of the interviews and reviews of Bush are about how hot Gavin Rossdale is and how his hotness is the reason Bush are successful, but it's also disqualifying, right? Like he's so hot that his band is popular, but he's too hot to be cool almost. Do you have any particular opinion about Gavin Ross? Rossdale's hotness and how it affects public perception. I have a lot of opinions on Gavin Roddell's hottest. I bet you do.

Listen, what I'll say is hymboes have interiority also. And, you know, hashtag not all hymboes. And I feel that that's disrespectful to really good-looking men. Okay. As a person who's often marginalized for my good looks. Likewise. Likewise. You know?

Yes. Yeah. I stand with. with Jez-sue Gavin. You know what I mean? That's how I felt. His pain. Was he the preeminent hymbo of that era?

Like, I guess Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder. Like, there were more hymboes. They weren't really hymboes, right? Like, I feel like Gavin, don't you feel like there was some, and this is just probably perception, I don't know these men personally or never knew them, but there was like some perceived, like, intellectualism to. Eddie Vedder and some like deep well of political grief and pain with Chris Cornell. And I think maybe perhaps Gavin Rossell wasn't afforded such luxuries.

Okay. That's true. He was. Scott Weil. He was perceived as. Scott Weil. Of course. Of course.

Yes. The Rolling Stone Bush cover story describes Bush as Nirvana wannabes. One word, which is not a word I have ever encountered in any other context. Did you just Nirvana be it? You know what I mean? Like there was such an opportunity. Nirvana be. That's, yeah, Nirvana wannabe's is, that's a distressingly long word, especially in like

headline font. It was like, I think it was in cursive as well for some reason. Like it was a descriptive headline font. Did you personally feel that Bush sounded like Nirvana? And if so, did you hold it against them? You know, the way that people held it against Stone Temple pilots that they sounded like Perl. Yeah.

Bush seemed like, were ripping anyone off in particular. I didn't think they sounded like Nirvana, but again, I was 12, so I didn't really have access to, like, the record store clerk level of, like, music snobbery to be like, that's too bad. You really missed out. You know, like, I was just kind of like, what an embarrassment of riches that I get so much alternative.

The buzz bin overflow it. Do you know what I mean? That's right. It wasn't until later that I was able to perhaps make some more interesting distinctions. Although I will say it's like, Nirvana was like, that was my husband, I was married to those albums. I listened to them all the way through, whatever. I didn't have the same relationship with Bush. Right.

Okay. Did you guys, did you buy that CD like probably in 1994 or pretty close? Were you immediately on the Bush bandwagon as a 12-year-old? I did buy the CD. Yeah, for sure, because I was a devotee to KROQ, K-R-O-Q, K-R-O-K, the best alternative rock station in the history of the world. And they were bumping the singles. And I was like, yeah.

Okay, here is, I think, the major point of contention today, I suspect. Yasi, is Gavin Rossdale a good lyricist? Yes or no? Okay, I'm going to say it again. Himbos have interiority too, okay? Okay. You, I feel that this is, you know, we live in a wheel where everyone steals, but when we rise, it's like strawberry fields. And I need you understand, once again, I'm 12.

This is fucking Yates as far as I'm concerned. Sure. This is Rainer Maria Rilke, to my young years. I don't know what else is going on. So maybe, you know, maybe, yes, maybe, this is kids' bop nirvana. I don't know. It's accessible to the youth. I do, you know, I think there was some, some nice lyrics.

I'm never alone. I'm alone all the time. That shows some depth. It does. It does. It does. I think that's an unfair, you know. It's an unfair criticism of Gavin Rosdell.

I think that the thing of him, like, they're not narrative songs. And he said this very explicitly. Like he was, it's like, each consecutive line does not. connect necessarily. And that can lead you if you're being uncharitable to thinking that he's just rhyming shit, kind of. But there's a free associative sort of quality that I think he's going for, you know, that I think maybe I'm just not giving him enough credit, you know, for what he's trying

to do versus what I am used to, you know, Eddie Vedder or anybody else doing, which is telling a story about Jeremy or whatever it is. Like he is, Gavin Rossdale is not telling a story. in any kind of coherent way. And we shouldn't hold that against him in addition to his handsomeness. Yeah, I don't, I mean, like, I don't think the lyrics probably hold up to scrutiny

in the way that, like, even Nirvana lyrics had a lot of sort of, like, coded messages and hidden, you know, things in them. But that's not everyone that's the same. What do you think? I think that I appreciate him more lyrically now. It was very easy for me in 1995. for to just sort of chortle at I touch your mouth, my willy is food and then move on with my day,

right? Like, there's a handful of clunkers. Like, even everything, Zen, like, looking at it now. What do you think there's no sex in your violence means? Have you thought about that lately? Or for the last time? I've been thinking about that for a very long time. I mean, I didn't understand at the time, certainly that it's like Jane's addiction

adjacent, right? And so it would be pretty important to understand that, first of all, and I did not understand that when I was 16. Like I just, I figured that he wanted to sing the words sex and violence on the radio, you know, like 15 times because he figured that would be cool. And I didn't disagree with him. It was cool. But I did not find him profound in the way that I would have said I found like Billy Corgan profound, for example. But again, you know, the handsomeness, I think really, really distracted me. and that's that's on me.

A lot of cheekbones. That's a lot of cheekbones. It's really, really aggressive. Cut glass. I would say, like, only Richard Ashcroft really rivals the cheekbones amongst 90s rockers. I'm not thinking of anybody else with cheekbones as striking. Well, I mean, there was, like, Damon Albarn. There were some pretty beautiful men plucking about in the alternative rock space.

Yes. Luckily for us. Luckily for us, absolutely. How does 16 Stone, you know, the first album especially, stack up for you now? Like, there were so many records out in 1994 that were so gigantic,

but like listening to this record now, it's like a greatest hits album, right? It's like everything's in, Machine Head, come down, glycerine. Like there's so many huge radio hits on this one record. Like, should we be seeing 16 Stone on way more best albums of the 90s?

lists. I just like, I don't ever put this album on and it's not because it's not good. It's just, that's exactly what you said. It's like an album that is like led, it's forward leaning with its singles. And I love the singles, but

I don't actually have much memory or fondness for the connective tissue in between. I don't know if you do. So like, actually I'm kind of more, I'm partial to razor blade suitcase. Were I to go?

go back, even though it has less you know, big ass hits on it as like a listening experience, I prefer that album. For the Steve Albini of it all, for like the super charged Pixies

readers of it? I wonder about, I mean, like, the thing is the crunch, the guitar crunch on 16th stone is like so aggressive. It's almost like suffocating to listen to the entire thing. And that's toned down on the Albini produced Razorblade suitcase.

Yeah, I think, you know, I wonder, I wanted to ask you, because I was like, Cede Albini produced 60 million albums and very few of them sound like the Pixies. So it's like, and it wasn't really in my understanding and maybe in your understanding too, his want to like impose anything upon the material brought in. Like he was just like, I'm going to make the drum sound cool. Like it's, you know, so like, I have to assume if it sounds like, the pixies it's because Gavin Rossdale wrote the songs to sound like the pixies. And it's probably why he brought it to Steve Albedee.

And Steve Albedee just did what he does, which just make it sound good. Yes, absolutely. I do think that Gavin Rossdale said a lot in interviews that his two favorite records were Doolittle and Surfer Rosa. Like, you know, just saying that you love the pixies is sort of what you did as a 90s rock star. But I do think he extra publicly loved the pixies. And so, no, I absolutely agree with you.

Like swallowed, for example, feel like. so breeders to me. Like the baseline. It's gigantic. It sounds like gigantic on purpose, I always assumed. It's one of the best songs that's ever existed. So thank you to the breeders.

Thank you to Steve Albini. Has one of, you know, Gavin Rosdell's lyrics that is, yeah, a little simplistic that I love. Just want to be myself. They said you would love to try some. They said you would love. love to die some.

Do you know that Gavin de Graas song that was the theme song for One Tree Hill? Vaguely, yes. I don't want to be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately. I just really like that thematics in the song, just like I don't want to be anything other than what I've been trying to do lately. Is One Tree Hill, is One Tree Hill the show where the dog ate the heart? That was meant to be transplanted into the bad guy who was the father of one of the basketball players.

One of the best moments in television history. Was there a song playing? Was that, was there a song playing? That's a great question. I don't remember because I haven't watched it in a while. It's really an incredible show. I believe it's like low-key religious. Hmm. It sounds like a U-2 song. It is a U-2 song. Yeah.

Right, right. There we go. But it's a U-2 song because it's a biblical reference. Anyway, sorry that we've me out. standard talk in God's Light here, if you will, to talk about one tree hell. I love swallowed, and I think that's a wonderful song on you're right. I just look, I know I'm being a bit of a Bush apologist and somehow inexplicably at the same time being mean, but how come it was okay for Kurt Cobain to say, I love the pixies and I copied them? Right, right.

Only Kurt Cobain can copy the pixies? Yes. Once again, we go back to Kimbo. You were mad when he copied Nirvana. And so then he went to the source material. The source, right. To the grandfather. Recreating Urbana on first principles.

No one's ever going to sound like the pixies. Even you can listen to Razor Blade's suitcase until your ears bleed. That doesn't sound like the pixies because no one's voice is like Frank Blacks. Gavin Rossell is always going to sound like a booming 90s buzzbin hero. You know, he's never going to sound weird and, you know, nefarious and perhaps criminal the way Franksaxson. Yes. All right.

To answer your question, when I listen to 16 Stone now, I do have an emotional connection with like the non-radio songs, which I think of as the non-radio songs, right? Like I can feel my brain turning off and on, you know, it's like everything's in. Like yes, yes, yeah. And then there's a couple, you know, one or two songs that I don't care about as much. And then like little things or whatever. Like I'm very attuned to which of these songs have been on the radio and which haven't. Like this is a classic album that I bought for $20 because I heard the radio singles, you know, and I kept listening to it all the way through even if I only wanted to hear the songs I was already hearing on the radio.

So as a full track list, it's important. We have like a Pavlov's dog, I feel like reaction to these songs. Like there's just no way for me to hear, you know, there's no sex and violence or whatever and not be like, there you go. You were 12. Or machine head man. Got a machine head Better than the rest That was a very funky reading of machinehead

I know that song now is like a hockey arena Yeah I got a little better with it on that one I'm sorry It's a very dudes rock moment As far as I'm concerned You have interviewed Gavin Rossdale Personally for 24 question party people

You talked to him for like an hour plus Yeah About cold plunges It seems like you really got along Like what insight would you say you gained into him? And do you think he really liked you? Okay, hard to say. I was like reflecting back and I was like, I feel I gained no insight.

It was like staring into the sun. The way I remembered it, I felt that we didn't connect at all and that he didn't laugh at any of my jokes, which again, I'm not, you know, the funniest person in the world. I'm not Jerry Lee Lewis. You're up. but I don't know why that's the one that came to, I just went back to the fucking 1960s. Wow, that's your standard for humor. It's good to know this about you.

The only comedians I could think of are like deeply canceled, and I was like, don't say those names. Okay, anyways, I was like, but one or two should have landed, but I think nothing landed. Yeah, I get you. I get you. He's serious.

Super lovely and nice, absolutely a lovely person. He did, I think at some point, asked me if I was familiar with a band, and it was like the psychedelic furs or something. And I was like, he doesn't know your game. He may be unfamiliar with your game.

A lovely man. A lovely man who is also devoted to infrared somas and cold plunges. Yes. I believe he loves to cook. I think he made a cooking show a little bit after that. Is that right? He has a cooking show and had celebrities on it. No kidding.

I'll have to check that out. That's, I wonder what Gavin Rostale's specialty. is culinary I don't, yeah. I don't know, he's British, so it's rough. Never mind. Yeah.

I was going to ask, actually, like, you did a full Brit pop season and like it had never occurred to me that 16th zone is 1994, right? This is when Brit Pop blows up. Definitely maybe park life. Like, Bush are the least English-sounding English rock bands

I can immediately think of. Like, do you register this band as English particularly in any sense. No, not at all. And from what I understand from my research, neither did England. Like, I feel like they like didn't exist within the context of her pop. Like in London, they were very much like,

I don't know her, Gavin Rosdale. We don't know her. They're like, it's such just interesting like inversion, whereas there was these bands like swayed who were so massive within, in the world of British indie rock and could not be arrested in America. And then there was Bush who was like blowing up in America, which everyone band wants.

And in their hometown, everyone was like, oh, that's Gwen Stefani's boyfriend. Like, that's literally how people have described it to me. They were like, we've never heard of these people in Ireland. Who is that, man? There's like some, I actually looked it up because I thought it'd be funny. There's a couple of articles from back then. I think there's one in the telegraph in 95.

And the headline is, how come an unknown British band are so big in the U.S.? Do you think that's by design? 1997. No, I think I kind of read up on it. It was like they got signed by an American manager who like had heard. They had one song, I'm sure you talked about this in your monolog.

I'm sorry to retread the honky man child that was like doing well. That was their like kind of first song. that did well a little bit on like local radio in London. And even like some of the other labels, like food, which was Blur's label, had heard that song. They were like, no, I don't know. And this one guy who I think had been George Michael's manager, the American, was like, okay, I'll sign them.

And he signed them. And then just like, he's American. So he serviced it to America and it got on Krock. So it went straight to KROC didn't go anywhere within like the melody maker enemy system. And that's what happened. I mean, it's better. Well, I don't want to be, you know, jingoistic or whatever, but, like, it's a bigger market for monetary purposes.

It is to my great shame that I have never heard the words honky man child in sequence before. I have no idea what you're talking. I chose to conduct myself. I think you should go back and redo your monologue. I'm going to. I'm going to scrap the entire thing. The people deserve to hear you say honky man.

child multiple times. I'm just going to say honky manchild again right now, and that's going to have to suffice. Because I chose to have Bush coming to my brain fully formed in 1994 when I was 16. Like I decided not to care about anything that happened prior to my hearing everything Zen on the radio. And I have aired tremendously because I don't have any idea what honky manchild is. And now I wish that I knew. Some homework now, Ben.

I do. I absolutely do. Just to wrap up, I believe you mentioned it's, I think you were talking when you were talking with Gavin, maybe in your monologue, like that you were in line to get Bush tickets at Tower Records like in 1994. And then you've seen them Bush, I think, in the last couple years. Like, how does this band hold up live and what impact do you see the song Glissorine still having on a live audience now? Well, first of all, we used to be a part. proper country. Secondly, RIP Tower Records.

Yes, okay. That's right. Yeah. I saw that, yeah, I saw them, I don't want to say it was like two, three years ago at the Greek theater. The songs still go so hard, babe. Sounded, you know, again, I was the Pavlov's dog, rough, rough, you know, like, it's on, and I'm vibing. But I had a, I had a grand old time. I'll tell you what, even though I was sat in some pretty nosebleedy seats. And it's fine. I'm fine.

I don't have an ego. I guess not. Okay. I've always admired that about you. It's what everyone says. You don't need to be in the VIP. You know, it doesn't affect your...

I just wanted to see a thing or two, but that's okay. You wanted to see him. I'm sure his cheekbones were still perfectly visible. You can see them from the moon. Yeah, those are... The aliens are going to speak about them in their dance.

That's right. Yes. Is there anything else you'd like to add about Gavin Rostale, the person, Bush, the band, or glycerine, the song? I believe that was all I had, but I want to make sure that you have your say. I wanted to say a thing that I cannot remember if there's a word for this, and maybe you'll know because you're a scholar and a gentleman, but for when something sounds like the word, it's not onomatopoeia.

Do you mean homophone? Sure. Okay. Okay. I feel like one of the greatest things about glycerin is it sounds viscous and sticky and like you're stuck and you're trying to move through thickness the way that the word is, which is obviously, you know, by design. But I think, you know, again, while I was thinking Gavin Rossdale was Rainer-Marie or Real Kaye when I was 12, I wasn't putting two and two together on that one. Sure. Okay. I doff my cap is what I say for that bit. I see. I see.

Well, I doff my cap to you, Yasi, for appearing on this program once again in sharing your wisdom. And it's always great to talk to you, especially about 90s rock bands. My honor and my pleasure. Thank you. Don't let the days go by. Could have been easier on you. I could change though I wanted to

No I really should though I couldn't change though I wanted to Babe That fucking that line goes so hard You know Who amongst us doesn't want to hear that From a cheekboned hymbo Who wronged us

High cheekbone hembo Having never been wronged by a cheap bone Himbo I can't necessarily relate But I can see why that would be Important I guess that's all I have to say Okay Thank you so much.

Thanks, Rob. Thanks very much to our guest this week, Yossi Salick. Thanks to our producers, Olivia Creary, Julianna Ress, Justin Sales, and Chris Sutton. Additional production by Kevin Pooler, animations and graphics by Chris Calliton,

additional art by Matt James, and special thanks to Cole Kushna. And thanks so much to you for listening. And now, let's all go listen to Glissor. by Bush. We'll see you soon. Spotify, it's Jay Shetty.

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