I gotta come clean: I didn’t care about this band. For a couple of weeks, Mockingbirds was everywhere and it rubbed me the wrong way, so I didn’t pursue their music at all.

Then the catastrophic REM Monster tour happened. The band already had gone through the loss of both Kurt Cobain and River Phoenix, massive friends of Michael Stipe. Then Bill Berry had a fucking aneurysm and barely made it. Then Mike Mills had a tumor removed. Then Stipe had to get surgery for a hernia.

Drummer Joey Peters from Grant Lee Buffalo helped R.E.M. through the remaining dates of the tour and I feel like shit having one of my fave bands of all time go through hell to check another’s band discography.

I was so fucking wrong about Grant Lee Buffalo. So, so wrong. Their deceptively folky demeanor cheekily mingled with baroque pop, country, and alternative rock. You could have an unforgiving tirade about addiction to pills, then get a mandolin led eulogy to Tecumseh. You could have a sweet break up song like Fuzzy, then an ode to the extinct steel industry in the USA.

Even after they were gone, Grant Lee Phillips continued with amazing music on his own, whether tackling his own heritage or pulling a magnificent album of covers of 80s staples. His dulcimer-like voice is always a soothing balm.

It’s impossible for me to choose ONE song out of their four album run, but since my mother fancies their music and I’m thinking of her right now, I’m going to suggest The Hook, from their debut album, Fuzzy.

The Hook reminds me of afternoons by myself in 1994, outside my high school, on the waffle-like seats, watching the sky, just relaxing. The wind would move the eucalyptus leaves, I would read a magazine or a book, maybe write for a change, then drag myself to the last classes of the day. I had oral communication at 4 pm, then Differential Calculus at 5 pm. I loved both classes, but I just felt lonely being that late at school.

Funny enough, in 1994 I wasn’t a fan of Grant Lee Buffalo, but somehow, their music sends me to that time in my life, when I started to write “seriously”. Most of the stuff I wrote back then is gone. Some lost to a hard drive failure, others were tirades I just threw away because they were useless rants that only meant something to me. Bad memories and terrible feelings I had to get out of my mind to become free. I’m still looking for that freedom, but I feel kinda better (in comparison).

Love you all. Have a great week.

-Sam J. Valdés López