Every Friday on my drive to work I listen to an album from my past; Flashback Friday. The selection criteria is as follows:

1. The album must have been on steady repeat at some point in my life
2. The album must be over 10 years old
3. No skipping tracks.

We’re back! It’s been a long time and I left you without a dope beat to step to. My apologies. Two Fridays ago there was a mix up on the drive to work causing me to break all the Flashback Friday rules, and last Friday I took the day off, so no drive to work, no Flashback Friday. I’m back now and as penance things are about to get real … real embarrassing.

Artist: 311
Album: Grassroots

Yes, this really happened. Every generation gets the music they deserve, and for some reason rap rock was all the rage at that strange time between the end of high school and the start of college. Rap rock was everywhere; dominating TRL (That’s a show that played videos on MTV) and taking over the radio it was impossible to escape, and back then who would want to. People had Korn posters on their walls and everything. The recent past is a real strange place. Someone once said “nostalgia is pain from an old wound”, and this trip started out as painful as they come.

All jokes and hyperbole aside, I cringed when the first song started blaring through my speakers. Loud guitars, crappy production, and someone yelling at me are not quite how I remembered this starting. I could have sworn 311 was kind of funky, super chill and easy to listen to. Who are these aggressive men from Omaha hijacking my morning commute, and what did I get myself into.

After a few audible sighs and one too many face palms something strange happened. Like a faint echo, one of those funky basslines I remembered worked its way through my ear and shook something loose in my brain. Suddenly I was drumming right along with whatever song was playing, and doing my own version of slappin’ da bass in the driver’s seat. It was faint, but I could feel what attracted me to 311 in the first place.

Look, I’m not here to say 311 is some underrated band that deserves to be remembered, or Grassroots is a lost classic. There is a lot to hate here. The production is terrible. I know back in dinosaur times you couldn’t just plug your instruments into a computer and get a pretty good recording, but I still expect a little more from a studio album. Not only is the actual sound of the album bad, the lyrics are awful. Most of the time they sound like gibberish or just words strung together because they rhymed. Nick Hexum you’re lucky you’re a very handsome man.

If it’s not the sound or lyrics what is it that made this album come to mind this morning? The music. It’s the music. It’s always the music. The best way I can describe what’s going on is fun. This sounds like five guys playing the noises that dance around their heads and leap from their souls. 311 isn’t trying to impress anyone, they aren’t trying to engineer a song that is a guaranteed chart topper, they just want to get their music out and damn it I don’t respect that. The funk I remember consistently shows its head. There is not as much as I remembered but what is there is good. There is a groove I can get into. Things get choppy at times, but the bones of something cool are there. This isn’t all that bad.

What started out as an embarrassing drive to work turned into a trip down memory lane. Memory lane may have some bumps and pot holes but there is still some good stuff on that street. The next time I listen to 311 may not be for a while, but this unexpected look in reminded me what it sounded like to be young, and that thankfully things don’t always stay the same.