Time travel to the 90s and beyond
Wilson Phillips at SM Arena. Photos by JZ.
You imagine that the soundtrack of the movie of your life will be composed of obscure masterpieces by singer-songwriters too pure for this world, quirky B-sides, and songs so cheeseball they could never be cool, ensuring paradoxically that they are cool. In fact the songs that trigger random episodes of time travel to the early 1990s are atrocities by Vanilla Ice or MC Hammer, or Color Me Badd with two D’s.
Or Wilson Phillips. They weren’t terrible. They weren’t great, but they weren’t terrible. They had no illusions of genius, they knew their shtick: cute daughters of famous musicians. My sister had their first album; she was 12 and exactly their target market. For the record, if this were their heyday you couldn’t drag me to a Wilson Phillips show. My 2012 self would loop back in time and shoot my 1990 self before that happened (Watch Looper!). But with the passage of the decades comes perspective—seeing One Direction elevates my opinion of the old boy bands—and I loved the movie Bridesmaids with its climactic Wilson Phillips cameo. So I ended up taking my sister to the Wilson Phillips concert last week. The last time Cookie and I went to a concert together, Ricky Martin was still officially straight.
Ayyyy foreheads!
May I say how glad I am that SM Arena at MOA exists? I had resolved, after the last time I spent five hours standing in a sweltering crowd of strangers, that I would never watch a concert in a field or parking lot again (of course there will be exceptions). I can sit, I can walk around, but I cannot stand still.
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