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The Stone Roses bring a tear to my eye, but it isn't because of the music alone The Stone Roses bring a tear to my eye, but it isn't because of the music alone
(4 months later)
A quote from NME's Tom Howard in the publicity for Made In Stone, Shane Meadows' recently released Stone Roses documentary, says "grown men will cry". It's probably 30 years since I trusted the opinion of an NME reviewer, but here's the thing: I am now inconceivably (if only to me) almost 50 and a grown woman, but the trailer alone for Meadows's film made me cry.A quote from NME's Tom Howard in the publicity for Made In Stone, Shane Meadows' recently released Stone Roses documentary, says "grown men will cry". It's probably 30 years since I trusted the opinion of an NME reviewer, but here's the thing: I am now inconceivably (if only to me) almost 50 and a grown woman, but the trailer alone for Meadows's film made me cry.
So, to clarify: the Stone Roses are not a boy thing, they're a generational thing. If, for the sake of argument, the Clash's London Calling was the last great LP of the 1970s and came to be thought of as a 1980s album, then the Stone Roses's eponymous debut was the last great album of the 1980s, yet became synonymous with the 1990s.So, to clarify: the Stone Roses are not a boy thing, they're a generational thing. If, for the sake of argument, the Clash's London Calling was the last great LP of the 1970s and came to be thought of as a 1980s album, then the Stone Roses's eponymous debut was the last great album of the 1980s, yet became synonymous with the 1990s.
It is also the last album for which I feel some sort of (skin-of-my-teeth) generational ownership. Funnily enough, until last week when my dad gave me his turntable I hadn't owned one since about 1992, so I doubt I've listened to my 12-inch copy of Fool's Gold since then. And God, but it sounds good and likewise makes me cry, and I know precisely why that is – it's because this slightly scratched piece of black plastic contains the last-gasp soundtrack of my entire bloody youth and, nearly 25 years later, "ahhh, Bisto!" doesn't come close to describing the smell of that nostalgia.It is also the last album for which I feel some sort of (skin-of-my-teeth) generational ownership. Funnily enough, until last week when my dad gave me his turntable I hadn't owned one since about 1992, so I doubt I've listened to my 12-inch copy of Fool's Gold since then. And God, but it sounds good and likewise makes me cry, and I know precisely why that is – it's because this slightly scratched piece of black plastic contains the last-gasp soundtrack of my entire bloody youth and, nearly 25 years later, "ahhh, Bisto!" doesn't come close to describing the smell of that nostalgia.
In short, I was young once and that was mostly good. Even if, back then, I'd stopped believing in NME reviews, I did still very much believe in the music. Now that I am so unconnected to that place, emotionally and physically, its soundtrack inevitably sort of hurts.In short, I was young once and that was mostly good. Even if, back then, I'd stopped believing in NME reviews, I did still very much believe in the music. Now that I am so unconnected to that place, emotionally and physically, its soundtrack inevitably sort of hurts.
As well as the Meadows documentary there's another film out about their "legendary" – I recall it was very self-consciously described as "legendary" almost immediately – Spike Island gig. So the Stone Roses are having a moment – as is, perhaps inevitably, all the Manchester music born of the previous recession.As well as the Meadows documentary there's another film out about their "legendary" – I recall it was very self-consciously described as "legendary" almost immediately – Spike Island gig. So the Stone Roses are having a moment – as is, perhaps inevitably, all the Manchester music born of the previous recession.
And that was a very different recession; one which allowed me to leave my job as an editor at the Face magazine in 1989 and enrol on a degree course at King's College London on a full student grant, which, in turn, meant that my then partner, a magazine editor, and I could pay the mortgage on our tiny one-bed flat in Shepherd's Bush. So as a "mature" student with a full grant and a fashionable endowment mortgage, compared to the average 25-year-old today, I was living the dream.And that was a very different recession; one which allowed me to leave my job as an editor at the Face magazine in 1989 and enrol on a degree course at King's College London on a full student grant, which, in turn, meant that my then partner, a magazine editor, and I could pay the mortgage on our tiny one-bed flat in Shepherd's Bush. So as a "mature" student with a full grant and a fashionable endowment mortgage, compared to the average 25-year-old today, I was living the dream.
But now of course the old Roses fans, mostly 40ish, are recession-squeezed members of the "sandwich generation", with their own mortgages and young dependent children (they came to parenting late, what with spending every weekend in their 20s in a field taking ecstasy) and parents old enough to be nearly as dependent as their kids. And for them it's all gone a bit Pete Tong on the work front too, with yet another round of bloody redundancies and all their credit cards maxed on 0%-interest-for-18-months deals. As if that weren't bad enough, the weather's always shit these days (it was better back then, surely?) and they still can't afford a holiday abroad, for the third year running (remember Ibiza? Those were the days).But now of course the old Roses fans, mostly 40ish, are recession-squeezed members of the "sandwich generation", with their own mortgages and young dependent children (they came to parenting late, what with spending every weekend in their 20s in a field taking ecstasy) and parents old enough to be nearly as dependent as their kids. And for them it's all gone a bit Pete Tong on the work front too, with yet another round of bloody redundancies and all their credit cards maxed on 0%-interest-for-18-months deals. As if that weren't bad enough, the weather's always shit these days (it was better back then, surely?) and they still can't afford a holiday abroad, for the third year running (remember Ibiza? Those were the days).
But stick on the Stone Roses – CD or vinyl, it matters not – and the opening bars of I Wanna Be Adored will make the Roses generation smile and tap a foot and then, despite themselves, get up and do some embarrassing dad-dancing (and indeed mum-dancing too), and so before you know it they can squint and it is a warm Sunday afternoon in 1990 and they're one of 27,000 standing on a breezy island in the Mersey estuary waiting for the opening bars. And it's good to be back there, isn't it? Yeah, even for those of us who weren't even there in the first place.But stick on the Stone Roses – CD or vinyl, it matters not – and the opening bars of I Wanna Be Adored will make the Roses generation smile and tap a foot and then, despite themselves, get up and do some embarrassing dad-dancing (and indeed mum-dancing too), and so before you know it they can squint and it is a warm Sunday afternoon in 1990 and they're one of 27,000 standing on a breezy island in the Mersey estuary waiting for the opening bars. And it's good to be back there, isn't it? Yeah, even for those of us who weren't even there in the first place.
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