Fiona Maazel: “Something Sweet From NYC”
My first high-school boyfriend, we called him little John. I was 5’ 5” and so was he, give or take, only he was two years older, which made our lives discrepant in ways the inches between us could not. Before me, he’d been with a girl whose left breast could take eight of mine. She was sexy and zaftig, and I was a virgin. Ha, a virgin, I’m pretty sure I’d kissed only one boy by then, whose lips, incidentally, I can still feel today. I was fifteen, but already, I’d had my heart snapped twice. So for this older guy (he played lacrosse, wore combat boots and a bomber jacket, was, in short, anarchic, alienated, and thus: hot), I was not going to let it happen again. If I even got within striking distance, I was going to be whatever he wanted. I started watching “The Wonder Years” for news of how to give a hand job and when this information was unavailing, I sought example in the burlesque impresario Robin Byrd—friends and I would actually sing the show’s theme song, “Baby Let Me Bang Your Box,” out loud—only to find there was no interacting on the show. No states of arousal to study, no techniques to adopt. John and I started going out and I was terrified.
Fast-forward a year. I’d had a boyfriend for a whole year! I bumbled along, embarrassed myself, but it didn’t matter: this guy loved me. Given the heartwreck that has become my experience of romance since then, I’ve learned to put a premium on the people who, quite simply, love you.
In May of that year, my parents announced we were moving to Los Angeles. I’d had a party in our apartment a couple months before, which sent one kid to the hospital with kidney failure, so there was no trusting me to stay behind and finish out high school in New York. Me and John were doomed. I didn’t take it well, he took it worse. I tend to shut down when hurt seems lethal—think of the emergency switch on a reactor—but his method was to feel the hurt and express it. I was going to California. The first guy who ever loved me was not. He made me a mix tape. It was full of mainstream music that meant something to us, maybe because though he was troubled and struggling and I was—quite obviously—a little weird, our relationship was conventional as could be.
I listened to the tape all the time. I’d sit in French class at my new high school and stare at the girl who played Winnie on “The Wonder Years”—she really was in my French class—and think about talking to her after, but just putting on my headphones, instead.
Led Zepplin: Going to California |
Prince: Starfish + Coffee |
Fiona Maazel’s first novel, LAST LAST CHANCE, was published by FSG in March.
They were into you, so they made you a tape. Today you don't have a cassette player, but you still can't toss that mix. We share the stories and the soundtrack to your earliest loves.
That’s awesome. Those are the exact same two Living Colour songs I used to put on all my mix tapes. Loved those guys!
Wow… I can’t help but admire the writing, it makes me very nostalgic. I never lived at a time where cassettes were really the main medium for music - I’m only 13 - but this makes me wish I did, for no particular reason.
I really love it. I love the story behind it too. It seams like something that was specail to you, and i’m glad you decided to share it with the public. Its really sets the mood. For me, a teenage girl sitting in my computer class. When i should be working. Instead i’m listing to your cassette.
this goes to all three of you. nice idea. enjoyed the mix of music. my Dad was a big band musician, i grew up in 50’s, 60’s, etc. but heard his plus older siblings musical tastes. of course Zepp, Jimi, Doors, etc. was more my time in HS (along with Box Tops and Supremes) then Miles, Coltrane, and british folk/jazz and a fusion in early 70’s.
in 74 my ex joined the Army. we had been to EU backpacking and wanted to go back to Spain or S France to live. it was her idea of how to get back. while in bootcamp in Georgia, she asked me to send her a mix cassette tape. The one i sent was mostly Nick Drake and John Martyn. i still here Nick Drakes tunes around, w/different musicians. not so much Martyn, except at end of movie ‘The talented Mr. Ripley’ Martyn closes the credits.
our marriage didnt last much longer. The Army is a very large corporation that imposes it’s style on you. If you dont accept it, then it will make your life difficult. i was walking around Ft Meade, with pretty long hair, as a hippie. pretty sure it didnt reflect well on her.
Did end up as a DJ for a year, 77 to 78. at Towson U. doing a jazz show and filling in for rock on occasion (Talking Heads, Television, Patti Smith, etc)
have not switched to mp3 yet. only have about 150 cd’s, 200 cassettes and 400 albums. am pretty excited about Sirius. and hope that it’s globalization effects everyone positively and encourages local media to really explore local art/artists as a viable option to survive. all the best
oops, didnt look the site over carefully. see that there are many with tapes on here. bt i still like the idea. will stop back to sample them all.
i do plan to digitize my tapes, dont want to lose the music.
and have already scripted the music, two versions, for my memorial service, when that may be.
a friend died a few years ago, hearing Louis Armstrong sing ‘what a wonderful day…’ as selected by his son for the service as a favorite tune of his Dad’s I will never forget.
Love this. Thanks, Fiona.
The Doors: The End. This is the end… fitting end of the tape. :-)
Spin Doctors!
i loved loved loved your story.
seriously, going to CA by zep makes me sad and nostalgic and happy… amazing way to start this tape.
Thank you for sharing.
The original Wave of Mutilation or the (UK Surf) from Pump Up the Volume?
I put the latter on a tape I made but never gave you.
This is very reminiscent of a mix tape I made for a girlfriend back then. Very similar situation and songs. I’m so glad for my experiences and I still have all the mix tapes from my youth to serve as musical touchstones. Thanks for sharing your touchstone with us.