My Story

I Traded Spotify for a 60-Day CD Challenge: Why My “Slow Tech” Experiment Stuck

After ghosting Spotify for 60 days to revisit my ’90s-’00s CD collection, I discovered that physical media is more than a nostalgia trip—it’s a necessary “slow tech” tool for reclaiming focus from the algorithm.

It was the fall of 1993.

I was standing in the late, great Tower Records on the southeast corner of East 4th Street—that glorious temple of discovery—holding Porno for Pyros’ debut in one hand and Dinosaur Jr.’s Where You Been in the other. I had exactly seventeen dollars and change in my pocket. As a high school student, I could afford one CD, a slice of Ray’s pizza and $1.25 on my shiny new Metrocard for the F train home.

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Grave Dancers Union: Unite and Fight!

By Drew Rosen Leave a Comment

soul asylum album cover — Soul asylum album cover

Find me a better band name than Soul Asylum and a more extraordinary album title than “Grave Dancers Union.” Go ahead; I’ll wait.

The 80s act that blossomed into a 90s alternative rock force held significant influence over droves of Gen Xers, even if Soul Asylum is not as cool to reference as Nirvana, Peral Jam, Blind Melon…or any other of their chart-sharing counterparts. Soul Asylum’s hit single “Runaway Train” was a massive success, reaching number five on the Billboard Hot 100 and winning a Grammy for Best Rock Song.

And perhaps that was the problem.

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Tales From a Recovering Sneaker Addict

By Drew Rosen 1 Comment

They say you always remember your first.

For me, it was the Nike Air Max 90 that turned me into a sneaker addict.

We were somewhere in Manhattan. Perhaps along 9th Avenue in Hell’s Kitchen.

The storefront was small, but the window display blew my 13-year-old mind: Dozens of pairs of shrink-wrapped sneakers, each emblazed with a neon sticker boasting a monstrous price reduction. These sneakers were begging to be bought, and I wanted each and every pair. A sneaker addict was born.

As I gazed into the window, aware for the first time that sneakers could be cool, my parents must have seen something illuminate inside my soul. We entered. Every fiber of my being told me this was my chance, an opportunity to finally own a coveted pair of high-end sneakers, which until this point, my parents had shielded me from.

But who were they protecting? Me from the absurdity of material objects or themselves from financial hardship?

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A Love Letter to My 90s Stereo Systems

By Drew Rosen 3 Comments

I fall in love with inanimate objects.

Tennis rackets, pens, sneakers, watches, bicycles, sunglasses, and so on. It’s not exactly unconditional love; my emotions can lead these objects to hang around past their expiration dates.

So consider this article a love letter, an amorous note to the stereos that helped me grow as a person and made my heart go pitter-patter. Because when it comes to 80s/90s stereo systems, I’m all in!

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“Toss the Mic” – The VH1 TV Show Idea That Never Made It

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How to pitch a TV show idea? I have no idea, but that didn’t stop me from trying.

I know we are not supposed to use words like “fail” since every misfire is a “learning opportunity,” but sometimes things don’t work out. And sometimes, euphemisms aren’t satisfying.

But every failure does let you know you tried. And trying shows you give a shit. So every now and then, I like to document some of my favorite failures. Each one, of course, redirects me to where I am supposed to be.

As I was nearing the end of my stint with VH1 on the satellite radio end of things, I realized I’d be foolish if I did not try to make my way from radio to TV. After all, I might never have the “inside track” again. So I pitched a couple of shows to a network executive. The concepts never went anywhere, but it recently occurred that, despite tremendous advances in digital recording, one concept, TOSS THE MIC, holds up almost 20 years later.

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My Radio Internship: The 90s Alt Rock Way

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They told me to be at the radio station by 4:30am, so there I was, alone, standing outside in the dark, staring up at the nondescript three-story building.

It was cold outside. Foggy. The office manager told me that someone would be there to meet me. I hadn’t yet earned access to the 4-digit security code that I’d soon learn was simply the building number.

As I awkwardly stood in front of the glass doors waiting for entry, a warbled voice shot out of the shadows.

“Muuurrrr-der-errrrrr.”

I jumped out of my skin.

MURDERER?

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My Story

It was the fall of 1993.

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