By now you’ve realised I was a loner growing up. Nothing but music and whatever idea I had in my head, notebook and pencil/pen on hand, ready to write something I would eventually matter of factly discard.

Contrary to other grunge bands, Soundgarden clicked right away with me. It was the impossibly weird tunings. It was the crunchy distortions. It was the eerie bass work. It was Chris Cornell’s beautiful, tortured vocals. It was a dark flame and I was attracted to it.

Superunknown, Siamese Dream, and Crash Test Dummies’ The Ghost that haunt me now were all bought on the same day at the now extinct Tower Records on Niza, on Mexico’s Zona Rosa. I always felt their selection was nicer, the prices were amiable, and they even had a section of bootlegs. My brother drove me and I absolutely loved all three albums, as distinct as they were from each other.

Through the years, I’ve found out that people love Fourth of July as much as I do. An oddity at first listen, it has a certain mesmerising property in its macabre. “Down in the hole/Jesus cracks a smile/beneath another shoveload”. The thanatic nature of the song, full of downbeat pessimism was crack for teenage Sam. Adult Sam agrees on this too.

Any patriotic day has always felt weird for me. My mind can’t comprehend how gung ho you need to be to set an specific day to celebrate your own country. I guess it doesn’t make sense in a way a birthday doesn’t make sense, but we still celebrate it anyways.

This is not going to be a commentary on the USA. I don’t feel qualified and I don’t think it’s my right to criticise a country when my own isn’t doing that great all over. If you want to celebrate your country, you should do it. And if you want to fix a country, start local, always.

-Sam J. Valdés López