GETTING MORE TALE #820: No More Tears
(Coda – 1991 Was the End and 1991 Was the Beginning)
Part One: The Last Note of Freedom
Part Two: 1991 Was the End and 1991 Was the Beginning
Part Three: 1991 Was the End and 1991 Was the Beginning (continued)
Here’s a bold statement: I feel that personal rock history is a part of the greater body of work that is the history of the genre. In other words, I think that stories of people like me, buying and listening to rock music, are important components of the greater gestalt. When we publish our stories permanently, they are assimilated into the collective history. Writers like Martin Popoff and Chuck Klosterman are often at their most entertaining when talking about their own tales of childhood musical discovery.
When a memory comes back it can be as vivid as the day it happened, and I try to capture that. The 1991 trilogy (quadrilogy?) has taken a couple months to come together and who knows, there might be another instalment if more memories surface. I won’t lie — it’s been an emotional process! No more tears? Maybe for now!
It’s important for me to recognise somebody who was there on the periphery of all these happenings in 1991. Peter M. Cavan didn’t do things the way the rest of us did. He began working immediately with the goal of becoming an electrical apprentice and eventually an electrician, which he did. He didn’t disappear after highschool. The first time he came to the cottage was in the summer of 1991 and that kicked off a serious friendship and many, many years of cottage trips. Peter worked hard but Peter also played hard, not letting time go by without doing something. Whether it be throwing a ball around, cooking a meal, driving into town to buy fireworks or frisbee at the beach, Peter kept moving.
And Peter’s favourite artist happened to be one of mine: Ozzy Osbourne.
It’s safe to say that No More Tears was one of the biggest albums of 1991 for Pete. When we hung out he always drove. We played the shit out of No More Tears in that car. We always skipped “Mama I’m Coming Home” — always. I didn’t buy my own copy for months because we were listening to it so often. When I did buy No More Tears, it was strange to listen to it without Peter!
Just as I happened to be really ramping up my interest in Black Sabbath, here comes Peter into my life who was also beginning to buy old Black Sabbath. At school, Rob V was teaching me the ins and outs of Black Sabbath and Deep Purple’s discographies. Meanwhile, Peter began travelling to the States a lot for work. Rob V told me of a rare (here anyway) Sabbath track called “Evil Woman”. Peter returned from the US with Black Sabbath’s The Early Years including that very track. I told him he found something special. Today, of course, you can painlessly get all that Sabbath stuff on readily available deluxe editions. You couldn’t back then, if you even knew they existed.
While it is true that life after highschool was lonelier than before, I did have Peter. He was the one guy who never went away. Peter and I went on many adventures in the early 1990s, some of which featured Ozzy or Black Sabbath in the tape deck. Peter is a part of my personal rock history and therefore part of the greater whole. Somewhere out there is a family who wonders to this day why Ozzy Osbourne was yelling “YOU BASTARDS!” at them while Peter and I passed them in our car. It’s because we synched it up that way thinking it would be funny. And it kinda was. We were adults, sort of. He was learning to be an electrician and I was becoming acquainted with the history of 18th century Russia. But we still laughed at fart jokes and blasted the Ozzy because why not? Why do you have to leave that behind?
You don’t. Celebrate your personal rock history and the rich tapestry of memories that comes with it.