(The futility of summing up a decade of rock and roll at this late hour. The audience has long since fragmented, broken pieces everywhere. Ten years is a long time regardless, from here to there. No one has a good decade. Ten years is too long a time for anyone's luck to hold out. )

Hey there. Did you come out all right?

(Good God, what an entrance.)

This is supposed to be about rock music in the 90s, but I keep coming up empty. Who really cares bout rock once they're past 30? Not really much easier to write about the news of the 90s either. I could rattle off the major headlines from 1990-1999, 20 lbs. worth, but it wouldn't really sum up the decade. I could recite the tragedies of the past 10 years, but misery has no more of a hold on one decade than on any other. Bad things happen every day, death by car crash, gunshot, clogged arteries, firsthand smoke, failed liver. So many ways to go.

No apologies. People come and people go, and in both cases not fast enough. So I'm sorry if you had a tough time the past 10 years. I'm sorry if you lost your head. I'm sorry if you abandoned rock and roll, but rock and roll didn't abandon you. I'm sorry you're on your own. I'm trying to write about rock music in the 90s, and it's got me looking for inspiration in a bottle and not finding it. Got to get past the urge to think like a fatalist. So let's say a prayer for the dead and get it over with.

Goodbye (insert your loved ones here). Hello P.J. Harvey.

(A Homer Simpson quote would fit really good here.)

Thinking about history's eventual take on the 90s music scene, but there's no reason to expect a favorable portrayal of the decade's rock and roll in the pop culture studies yet to come. Consider how poorly the media defines rock in the 1980s. Take a look at those "history of rock" documentaries from 1995 and note how much disdain is shown for the 1980s, as if X and the Replacements and the Mekons never happened, which for most people they never did. Yet there were still critics' favorites topping the charts in the 80s, the likes of Springsteen, Talking Heads, Prince, and U2 - selling millions, dominating the radio, and the retrospectives say, "Ugh, dance music. MTV. Thriller." (Though Thriller was a critic's favorite too, how quickly they forgot.) The future 90s retrospectives will highlight the return of the guitar, and it won't be pretty. Rock died again in the 90s, that's the epitaph, if you get an epitaph it means you're dead. Rock just keeps on dying.

But it doesn't matter. There was quite a bit of great rock music made in the 90s; it even had a revival of sorts. 1991 became the year that punk broke, mainly because a documentary came out with that name, but Nirvana did suddenly top the charts and rock and roll was born again, like it has been at least twice before, and rock was exciting again, for a moment or two. To be young and a rock fan then was sheer heaven, at least that's what they tell me. Too bad the defining image of 90s rock and roll is Cobain blowing his brains out. Suicide makes great copy.

"It's a brand new era, it feels great/ It's a brand new era, but it came too late." - Pavement, "Newark Wilder," 1994

A case can be made that the decade's rock and roll peaked in 1994. There were still several great albums in 1995 (insert your favorites here), but in 1994 the rock world was brimming with hope. Maybe it wasn't 1965 or 1977, but it was something that gave hope for the future. Nirvana was gone but it hardly seemed to matter, not with Hole, Sugar, Soundgarden, Pavement, Liz Phair, Sonic Youth, Sebadoh, Freedy Johnston, Archers of Loaf, the Breeders, Afghan Whigs, and Yo La Tengo still around, and those were just a sampling from alternative white America. By 1996 it mattered that Nirvana no longer existed. Alternative radio died, or should have died, Nirvana-never-would-bes bored everyone within listening distance with the possible exception of themselves.

But saying that rock's revival died with Cobain is a romantic notion, a false one, less credible even than ending the 60s at Altamont. However much Cobain's suicide may have affected rock stars and fans, it didn't make anyone put away their guitars or stop buying albums, Nirvana fans found other bands, great music was made here and there. Too bad that it has now been nearly 10 years since rock and roll had its next big thing, and some of us are getting bored and old. I swear it would have been different if Cobain had lived, but he really wanted out, and the great music he would have made is our loss, and the influence he would have had on the alternative scene is a loss too, but it's not like it was bad luck that did him in, unless you consider severe depression the worst luck of all, and you might be right.

Even still, the rock world has been fragmented since at least the late 70s, and for most of the metal, hip-hop, and techno crowds, Nirvana never meant shit to them. They had their own heroes to celebrate, and tragedies to mourn. Alternative rock was never the biggest thing out there anyway. At the beginning of the decade rap ruled the charts. At the end of the decade it was more often called hip-hop, and it still ruled the charts. Some it of was very good, most of it was awful, but the same was true of rock and everything else and always will be. There are now as many categories of hip-hop as there used to be for rock and roll some 20 years ago. The 90s had the hard edge of Public Enemy, the melodic sounds of P.M. Dawn, the jazz-inflected Digable Planets, Tricky's trip-hop, Lauryn Hill's melting pot, the Beastie Boys' wise-ass noise, De La Soul's sound collage, Prince Paul's weirdness, and that's just a sampling. (Now I'm just making lists. Can I get a lifeline here?) It was a very good decade for hip-hop, which should have gotten stale a long time ago. Difficult to knock a decade's music when its most popular brand had a creative flourish.

There were some negative trends in 90s rock, such as the increasing time between new releases for most major acts. The record companies, searching for multi-platinum sellers, were part of the problem (squeezing the sixth single from a CD), but the other was the CD itself, which allowed for more music on a single album. There was a time that 60 minutes on a record meant a double album, now single CDs can clock in at over 70. Some acts put out overlong CDs and then kept quiet for two or three years. This was and remains an unfair trade-off. Most CDs could stand to lose some weight, and the layoff between albums is time that won't come again for the young rockers. I could cite the output of the 60s rockers to show how far the standards have fallen, but I don't have to: the Clash put out nine albums in five years; Husker Du put out eight in four. Extreme cases, yes, and I'm counting actual albums not releases, but still. Prince and Neil Young and Van Morrison kept putting out new albums throughout the decade, and they all have been in the business for 20 to 30 years (Neil's your dad, for crying out loud). Unfortunately the best rock and roll is usually made by youth. As Warhol once told Lou, you won't be young forever, so get crackin'.

There was still substantial critical and commercial success by 80s' holdovers U2 and R.E.M., both of whom continued to sell millions and receive generally favorable reviews though with diminishing enthusiasm. The aforementioned Prince, Van, and Neil rock on and on and on, glad they're all still here. Rockers can grow old and still make some great music, there's nothing gained by checking out at 27 unless it's a more interesting obituary. Live long and prosper. Better to rust. Isn't that the story of Johnny Rotten? Who thought he would still be around in the year 2000?

(Note to self: Ease up on the booze)

I'm searching for a phrase to define the decade, and I'm not getting anywhere. For the alternative world, the 90s was the decade of the woman, but musically this doesn't mean a thing, other than that women contributed to much of the decade's finest music. Socially it means that it no longer matters whether a woman sings or plays a loud guitar or leads a band, or whether the band is all women. That's progress, worth celebrating, so a toast to Liz Phair, Courtney Love, Lauryn Hill, Carrie-Corin-Janet, P.J., Lucinda and so many more I could mention without ever getting to the Spice Girls, who don't deserve it but who took so much critical abuse I thought I might as well. (The little girls understand.)

"I fake it so real I am beyond fake." - Hole, "Doll Parts," 1994

The irony decade, say some in the mass media. Rock and roll is about passion, however subdued, yet irony crept into 90s rock and roll, even into some of the most talented rockers out there, and irony rarely goes with passion. Beck practically defined irony. Pavement did the same when they weren't just simply being obtuse. Beck still managed to get on the radio and sell his million plus, while Pavement became alternative heroes unknown to the masses. I ended up liking Beck without all the overdubs, preferring the albums he recorded in a couple weeks (Mellow Gold, Mutations) to the ones where he lived in the studio and suffered for his mixing board. Beck will be around for years to come, bless him. He will never bore, though he might embarrass. (How Dylanesque.) Pavement have been both exhilarating and frustrating. They claimed to want stardom then seemingly did whatever they could to prevent it. The radio played Matchbox 20 instead. Pavement teased the mainstream then ran away from it. We suffered for their sins.

No point in running down all the forgettable, chart-topping rock music of the past 10 years - Matchbox 20, Live, the Goo Goo Dolls, the functionless Pumpkins - all of whom got to wear the coveted alternative label. Every decade has its share of forgettable music, but why focus on that when the 90s also brought us P.J. Harvey, who will be around as long as she wants to be. (No trafficker in irony, she.) P.J. took more chances than anyone else in rock, and she made good on most of them. She will never get her place in the rock documentaries like Janis Joplin, or even Jim Morrison, she's never sold much and she's already lived too long, but she has found her place in the rock pantheon if not the Hall of Fame. She brought a commanding voice to a vision that went its own direction. She didn't get played on the radio either.

That is the crux of the problem, isn't it? The rock era is judged by its radio play, and rock radio in the 90s hit a new low. There are still great singles, there always will be. But it's not enough. MP3 is going to make rock radio mostly irrelevant anyway, but when the best rock music tops the charts it bodes better for the future. It certainly makes the music scene more exciting when it happens.

The U.K. certainly had a music scene that gave them something to talk about, though most of the U.S. never noticed. The large gap between American and British tastes may not have widened, but it seems to be securely in place. What passed for greatness in the U.K. often had the U.S. wondering what they were hearing. British rockers made good copy. Some examples: Singer disrupts Michael Jackson performance on the BBC, member of one supergroup tells the press that he hopes the member of a certain other supergroup dies of AIDS, Richard's leaving the group!, Justin and Damon, Brett's leaving the group!, "Karma Police" speaks to me. If these statements mean something to you, you are either 1) British, or 2) an avid reader of Mojo, Q, and the New Musical Express, and you're still British. Tricky and P.J. Harvey were among the best the U.K. had but they sounded too American, so the Gallagher brothers got to be ambassadors instead. For a moment there Oasis sold a few records in the U.S. and there was talk of another British Invasion, except Blur didn't follow and Oasis weren't exactly fab, and it was all over. No loss. I adore Pulp, as British as one can get, but their sales will always be Kinks-sized at best, no revolution there. There was a time that young American rock fans wanted nothing more than to be British, but those days are long gone. The British loved their own, but most U.S. rock fans were bored with the U.K., and why not when all American rock lacked was good copy and major league sales. The quality was there. It was a good decade from rock and roll from either side of the ocean, even if both sides rarely agreed on what was so good about it.

A very good decade: I can make that simple statement. And after six days of searching for a label, this is all I've got: DIY. The do-it-yourself decade. Lo-fi recordings made on four tracks in a bedroom, rap that anyone can do (but oh so few can do well) in a plethora of styles, simple guitar licks, sometimes unplugged, and now MP3, a way to bypass the entire industry and put music out directly to the masses. Do it yourself, in so many ways. Prince does. So does Public Enemy. So does Beck and Stephin Merritt and Liz Phair and Pavement and Big Daddy Neil. Do it yourself is a rock and roll tradition, one of the best. No lessons necessary. Skills developed on the job, if ever. Most of rock and roll is disposable, always will be, but the best of rock and roll still seems to come from the garage or the bedroom, it will never come from the classroom or conservatory. So DIY. So many of the decade's best albums sound like they were recorded at home, maybe that was part of their charm, maybe it was an accident. Look, I admire Steely Dan and Fleetwood Mac much as anyone else born in the 60s, but the 90s were about keeping the work in-house, and no L.A. session musicians need have applied. (Though some still did. No harm, no foul.)

That's it. That's all I've got. It's not easy defining a large and messy canvas. So DIY. You got a better name for it? Fine. Do it yourself.

You're on your own.

Another decade without a nuclear fall-out. Might as well blow your money on a stack of CDs.

Now I'm listening to the latest Yo La Tengo CD, awaiting the next Belle and Sebastian, wondering what P.J. is up to, wondering why I bother. At the start of the decade I was 25, on the edge youth as the rock world defines it. I'm 35 now and far past any of rock and roll's target markets, but I'm still here, rock still matters to me even if doesn't to most of my peers. I don't know why I'm still here, but I like it here just the same.

There is hope for the future. Who could ask for more?

Maybe a Leonard Cohen afterworld isn't such a bad place after all.

It's a brand new era. (It's retro.)

Hey hey, my my.

Keith Richards still lives.