Ever since I was seven-years-old and listening to pop radio in the car of my babysitter, I have been in love with “Sex and Candy.” I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. I mean, who could resist lyrics like, “There she was/like disco lemonade?”
I’ve always secretly had a weakness for that song, despite the fact that I was raised listening to little else than contemporary Christian hits and classical Bach suites.
So when Sarah Gilmore, the Mustang Daily’s arts and entertainment editor, mentioned they needed someone to review last week’s Marcy Playground concert, my hand shot up in the air. I didn’t care if I had to skip a class. Or if I had work the next morning. I was going to this concert if it was the last thing I did.
The next step was to do some research into the band’s history. After all, I’d only really listened to “Sex and Candy,” and I was pretty sure that Marcy Playground would be playing some of their other songs at the concert, too.
And that’s when things took a turn for the weird. Based on my comprehension of Marcy Playground’s oeuvre, I had always thought of the group as, quite simply, the sexiest ’90s group ever. Nothing could compare in my mind to the casual cool almost-sigh of lead singer John Wozniak’s voice as he sang, “Yeah there she was…” or the steady, driving beat of Dylan Keefe’s bass playing.
But as I delved more deeply into Marcy Playground’s music, I discovered a talented band and a varied set of songs, ranging from “Sherry Frasier,” a laid-back track off the group’s debut album about the lead singer’s first love and muse, to the upbeat “Ballad of Aslan,” which is half about The Chronicles of Narnia, and half about hallucinogens, says Wozniak, who wrote the song.
After three days of listening to Marcy Playground’s music almost nonstop, reading about the band’s history on any website I could find, I returned to “Sex and Candy” and gave it another listen. It was my idea that this would psych me up for my interview with the band and the concert afterwards.
Instead, I found myself oddly disappointed. I’ve heard “Sex and Candy” so many times over the years that it’s become predictable and cliché. Sure, it’s still good, but in the end, I switched on “Sherry Frasier” one last time before heading off to cover the story.