DISCLAIMER: These won’t be proper reviews -as if I could write those- or have interesting technical tidbits on them. These are more of a “ah, that song reminds me of…” thing. Like the part you skip on a recipe. So it goes.

Album: Core.

Release date: September 29, 1992.

Track: 11.

Moods: Haughty, honest, braggadocio.

1994 was an emotionally complex year. But then again, which year isn’t? I’m torn as I feel the lowest were pretty bad, but the highs were lifelong memories.

Two things I can always clearly remember from that year were: spending all my money on blank tapes and rain. Rainy afternoons meant long commutes on public transport back from school, with only a ratty walkman and its dubious earphones for company.

1994 is also important because it was the year I became a music nerd. MTV Latino had a healthy rotation of music, and if anything was filtered out due to editing or a parent company, you could always stay up for 120 minutes or alternative nation. If I started my journey into music in 1993, it was 1994 when I was a fully-fledged melomaniac.

Some bands I disliked eventually became my faves. I hated Smashing Pumpkins at the beginning, but then something clicked (Mayonaise). Same with Nirvana (Lithium). Same with Pearl Jam (Animal). Same with Alice in Chains(No Excuses), even if I loved Rooster from the get-go. More on that on a later entry.

It wasn’t the case with Stone Temple Pilots. I fell hook, line and sinker to their musical prowess from day 1 and I don’t believe I’ve ever let go of them. If Stabbing Westward was there for the darkest moods, Stone Temple Pilots were there for the happier times, which also had their bitter moments, and lo and behold, there were songs on their repertoire for those too! Thanks, Still Remains!

Autumn of 1994 was a bit brutal on the relationship front, no change there. I had a friend who was also into alternative music and we used to lounge on his old Volkswagen Caribe, listening to mixtapes, then trade blank tapes to record those CDs we wouldn’t lend anyone. I had STP’s Purple, he had Core. So we traded blank tapes and got our copies of the albums. I wore that poor tape down, I swear I could’ve bought the album instead of wasting money repairing tapes with sellotape.

Core was a different beast to Purple. Shocking at first, I grew to love the harder, meaner edge the album had. The psychedelic experimentation was there, a moment of respite from beasts like ‘Naked Sunday’ or ‘Sin’. We relished the atmospheric ‘No Memory’ and ‘Wet my bed’. The latter one felt like a filler track, but I still had a soft spot for it because of the small banter by the end: Brendan O’Brien asks “OK, alright, now what?”

And it was our cue to crank up the volume. Crackerman starts! A decisive drum by Eric Kretz, akin to yelling “GO!”, Robert DeLeo’s hypnotic bass makes you sway, Dean DeLeo’s guitar is impeccable as always and Weiland’s delicious vocals wraps it up perfectly.

I would go back and re-listen to Crackerman any chance I had. It was an upper for my sadness. It was a soundtrack for endless walks, sometimes from Valle Dorado to Satélite, a good 6 km walk under rain, drenched to the bone, with a dumb happy smile on my face.

Crackerman was also my “relax, it’ll be ok” song for exams. It was the semester for Differential Calculus, and although I loved the subject, exams were multiple choice, and procedure didn’t count. So grades were 0, 2, 4, 6, 8, or 10. I would quietly go “roaming, roaming, roam, get away, gotta get away” while checking my answers and carefully typing them on the strange electronic device we had to use to deliver our answers. Shoddy technology was no match for Stone Temple Pilots.

Still to this day, Crackerman is a pick-me-up. Whether for a long ass walk to nowhere, or simply to get on happier mood, it’s always there, with it slight winks to Johnny Cash, and boastful mood.

–Sam J. Valdés López