Except I was a teenager in the '90s. All of my high school years and all of my college years began with 199-. (All of my junior high years, too. Huh. Busy decade.) And so I began thinking that musically, maybe the warm and fuzzy and cuddly thing was...oh, say...Alice in Chains. Nirvana's Unplugged Album. Maybe some early Tori Amos. Ooh, and is that Alanis Morisette I spy there? Haaayayyayayyoow appropriate.
"'Country Death Song' is what this playlist is all about!" I said to timprov. "I thought you didn't like 'Country Death Song,'" he said. "I hate 'Country Death Song'!" I said happily.
So now I have the first playlist I've ever made with no member of the Guthrie family on it. It is lacking in both Simon and Garfunkel. Dar Williams? No. Ella Fitzgerald? No. Buddy Holly? No. So many lovely things, not on this playlist. Boiled in Lead makes it in on a technicality, since I had a single cherished album of theirs ("Old Lead," if you're curious) when I was in high school. And I couldn't resist a few Mountain Goats songs, because nothing says, "I'm not sure the songwriter made it home from the recording session without stopping off to slit a few wrists, some of them his own," like John Darnielle. He has the grunge nature.
I'm not sure how long this is going to be the thing. Next week it may be singer-songwriters of the early 1970s, folk songs against war, or some other segment of my personal musical history. But at the moment, I have a playlist that includes things I haven't heard or wanted to hear in years, and it's making me grin.