Silent Ludicrousness

1990 has always been a resonant year for me. Born in 1975, I was too young to appreciate 1980 and what it meant to enter a new decade, so as the seconds ticked down on the 80’s, my 15-year-old self basked in the importance of the moment: “dude, we’re entering like the last decade of the millennium – the year 2000 is a long time away, but still! (10 years seemed an eternity then…)”

1990 was the year I first got drunk, the year I discovered Pink Floyd, the year the first signs of stubble appeared. It was a time of disorienting maturity, not just for myself, but also for the rock music scene at the time. By 1990, the big hair and acid washed image of bands like Cinderella and Poison had already begun devolving into parody, yet the plaid and goatees of 1991 remained a very distant spot on the music fashion horizon. The hairspray was shelved and the bandana donned, only for that look to be rendered ridiculously passé within a year. Charvels were replaced by Paul Reed Smiths, naively unaware that Telecasters and Les Pauls would shortly become the 6-string currency of the early 90's. For me, no two songs better represent this marooned spirit than Silent Lucidity by Queensr?che, and More Than Words by Extreme.

1990 was a year devoid of the irony and anger that would soon become the grunge-inflected modus operandi of the early 90's. This is captured perfectly in Silent Lucidity, with its ‘ok, let’s be serious for a moment here lads’ vibe beautifully at odds with the ‘someone didn’t get the memo’ ridiculousness of the name Queensr?che. It is by no means a bad song – I recently included it on a Spotify playlist and found myself loudly singing the ‘master of illusion’ line while walking down High Park Avenue (in addition to the obvious health benefits, face masks also provide an anonymity benefit that allows one to walk down High Park Avenue singing Silent Lucidity with full-throated gusto.) But it’s just so incredibly earnest and self-aware, with its calculated inclusion of a string section obviously meant to elicit maximum teen emotion.

By contrast, More Than Words sits on the happier end of the spectrum, and has arguably aged much better than Queensr?che's epic. Still, it’s hard not to imagine Nuno telling Gary to stop goofing off and come check out his radical new idea (while summarily dismissing the other band members from the room, and wishing he hadn’t settled on such a dumb band name….) The wide-eyed affection in the song’s lyrics was undoubtedly a step in the right direction from the G.I. Joe sensitivity found in 80’s power-ballads such as Every Rose Has Its Thorn, but such affectation would soon be rendered brutally obsolete by the likes of Down In A Hole and Black.

The great thing about being 46 is that one can well and truly stop worrying about being cool and whether or not one sits on the right side of the music and fashion divide (my daughter regularly lets me know which side she thinks I am on…) Such freedom allows one to put Silent Lucidity on a playlist, and to stop being jealous of Nuno Bettencourt, with his guitar-god chops, flowing hair, and Iberian good looks. It allows me to become that master of illusion, perhaps explaining my zeal in singing that line while walking down a frigid Toronto avenue in the midst of a seemingly never-ending pandemic.