No. 711 – Wicked Garden

Performer: Stone Temple Pilots

Songwriters: Robert DeLeo, Dean DeLeo, Scott Weiland

Original Release: Core

Year: 1992

Definitive Version: None

This blog is the not the first time I’ve done a list of something to commemorate a big birthday. When I was about to turn 30, I decided to mark it by doing a countdown, via postcard, of my top 30 albums of all time.

For several years, Jin would send me her top 10 movie lists and do it by sending a postcard that in some way corresponded with the title or theme of the movie. I thought it was cool, and when I’d get a new postcard every third day or so, I’d try and guess the movie from the postcard.

So I thought I’d turn the tables on her for my 30th, and for a long time after I got my list together, whenever I was anywhere that had postcards, I’d look to see if there was anything that seemed to fit the list. I started with two postcards—one of a Tyrannosaur from Jurassic Park roaring, which announced the list; and the other of an eye looking through a keyhole in a door for the top albums that just missed out being on the list.

Flint wasn’t the best place to find cool postcards, as you might imagine, so I decided to drive down to Ann Arbor and hit stores around the UM campus on the last Sunday in February of 1994.

I woke up fairly early that day, so I could make my trek down, which was easy to do because I hardly hadn’t drank anything that weekend. This was unusual in that I had worked a double weekend night shift, but I wasn’t feeling quite right—nothing major, just a general sense of feeling full. In fact, the night before I went to Ann Arbor, I’d had no beers or Jack—the first and only time I ever went to the White Horse and had neither—just a single drink of Bailey’s on the rocks. That’s all I wanted.

Anyway, I drove down on a sunny Sunday afternoon that was unseasonably warm. I doubt that I wasn’t wearing any coat, but that’s what my recollection was. It probably more likely was my long wool coat instead of a parka, which I needed in January when temperatures reached record lows.

I don’t remember how many places I stopped, but one I definitely remember was Wherehouse Records, which was apparently a legendary independent record store that since closed more than a decade ago. I found several good postcards there, including one of Jimi Hendrix that would be good for Are You Experienced?

The sun was starting to set as I headed home flush with success on my day trip,

And I was looking forward to having the night off so I could continue to make tapes of my latest Columbia House CD purchases, which included, among other things, Core. I had already put this song on another tape—and cranked up the volume on it in my car as I sped home north on U.S. 23—and I wanted to get more of the album on tape.

As I drove, that full sensation from the night before returned a bit even though I’d had only a burger that day. Probably just a stomach issue. I’ll just take a Digel when I get home …