Although I left the staff of
Rolling Stone around 1991 and have only done a few pieces for them since then, the tag "
Rolling Stone writer" still follows me like a tin can on a "Just Married" car. Which is fine with me. It was probably the most sustained fun I ever had at a job, though, as with so many
things in youth, I didn't realize it at the time.
As Talking Heads -- my first cover subjects -- hauntingly
sang
, "You may ask yourself -- how did I get here?" How did my level of pop-culture fandom, consumerism, and opinionating rise above the normal American level and become a profession? Simplified answer: childhood trauma.
I still remember the moment I became aware of pop music as something I needed to know more about.
