In 1970, television ate my family. The Andy Warhol prophecy of 15 minutes of fame for any and everyone blew up on our doorstep. Show less «

Our music spoke to the true misfit class of American teenager. Not the poetic James Dean-type dream outcast, but the real, needy, nobody wants 'em, forgotten teens. You know the type. Too square to be down with the homebodys, too idiotic to be up with the intellectuals, too insecure to be the center of attention, and too impatient to just sit at home and wait until they get to be 21. Show less «