Rewind: Uncle Tupelo - No Depression

There's been a rash of nostalgia Clinton-era pop culture, and a lot penned by women describing how it changed their lives for the better, but my fondest memories from the 90s didn't lead to any kind of a feminist awakening. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be ashamed of this or not. But no matter how often I'm tempted to rewrite my own history (subtract a Westerberg here, add a Liz Phair there), I can't really deny that the 90s was when I discovered a lot of great music that was just that -- great music -- and it wasn't necessarily tethered to my personal politics.

I write a lot about being a fan, and being a feminist, and how to unite the two. In theory I do this well; in practice, well, I tend to go with what sounds good to my ears.



(I can't write about Uncle Tupelo without first mentioning Mississippi Nights. One thing I always loved about that place was how accessible the performer was to the audience. A lot of nights, the band could be seen mulling around in the crowd while the opener was on stage. Though it was never really what you’d call a small club, the atmosphere was undeniably dive-like in the best possible way.)

I always think of No Depression as county music for people too cool for country. Let's face it, country music is incredibly polarizing and comes with some pretty hefty baggage. It's the soundtrack to conservative America. And while I'm loathe to admit it, it's also the soundtrack to my early childhood. Uncle Tupelo was as close as my city ever got to having a hometown band and, consequently, a "scene."Yeah, technically, they’re from Belleville, but at the time, Uncle Tupelo were our “local boys made good,” if not on a commercial level, then on a critical one. And on a sentimental one.