It started innocently enough, leaving a friend's house in the Heights, when during one of our epic air-drum solos to the Foo Fighters' "Bridge Burning," we heard the speakers on the left side of our car, a hearse-like HHR, just pop and die, reducing Taylor Hawkins drum work to a tinny whisper on the left side, and muffled and weird on the right side. We obviously stopped our dangerous air-drumming on 610 North and felt helpless.
The next day everything seemed fine in the car, as if nothing happened the evening before. The speakers were fine, audible, with no damage heard. We were listening to Robert Ellis' new album Photographs and taking mental notes, since we were working on a music feature on him at the time. Our worst fears from the night before gave way to "Westbound Train" and we were distracted.
Fast-forward to this past Saturday afternoon, when we left Black Dog Records on Shepherd with our fourth CD copy of Guns N' Roses' Appetite For Destruction. We used to just burn copies and leave them at people's houses like a bottle of delicate wine - a gift, really. But we had gone through three copies and our last one was probably somewhere in Pearland in storage.
A quick word about our current attachment to Appetite: We can't stop listening to it. We aren't sure what's going on in our lives, or if we are just making up for the first years of our life before we got (retroactively) hip to it, but simply put, it won't leave our ears. Moving along...
Now we have our 2006 Chevy HHR since May 2006 when we first sat in it when it was just a loaner vehicle at Strickland Chevrolet. We hated the PT Cruiser-looking girl when it pulled up next to the loaner office at the car lot, but a night spent listening to Sparks and Roxy Music on the highway alone changed our minds. Thanks to the Mael Borthers and their song "Angst In My Pants," the good folks at Ally and General Motors get a check every month from us.
Obviously as big, dumb music fans and writers who travel a lot, we spend a lot of time with the stereo in our vehicle. We are frankly surprised the speakers didn't go out sooner, like in 2007 when we just got dumped and were blaring all manner of black metal and ambient doom at all hours of the day in the car. When the Stooges started reissuing their albums, the speakers held up.
But it took Axl Rose and friends to finally do her in on 290 this past Saturday, right during the opening of "My Michelle," our favorite song on the album. "Your daddy works in porno now that mommy's not around" is the best line ever.
We pulled into Best Buy, looked at the car-audio section, and in 30 minutes a guy had pulled the door panels off our baby and was putting in new speakers. It gave us a chance to think about the albums that led to us sitting in a waiting area with a cup of coffee and a smile, the albums that have blown lesser speakers, and which have more than likely shaved years off our future hearing due to loud exposure.
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