Garbage and One Queer Darkling

Lacy Telles

In 1995, Garbage released their first album.^[1] Self titled, it came into my possession on a California Christmas morning, which is to say a warm and sunny December morning, no fireplace in sight. The festive paper could not possibly disguise the all-too-familiar, un-recyclable, easily crackable jewel case encompassing a hot pink CD. I was fifteen. My younger sister had turned me onto the band after seeing them open for Smashing Pumpkins. She will be the first to tell you, it was love at first sight. Lead singer Shirley Manson was a force, with her fiery head of hair and her no sh*ts given for anyone or anything attitude. A gorgeous and titillating force.

And so I opened the CD and immediately started strumming my leg guitar while singing the words to “Not My Idea,” never embarrassed that my singing voice is nothing like I wished it would be, no matter how hard I tried.^[2] I suppose it should be noted that I’m not what one would call a “dancer,” but I do have the confidence to bust out my leg guitar when the moment is right. I read enough Spin magazine to know that drummer and producer Butch Vig was something of a legend in the rock world, but for us, it was all about Shirley.

Up until that point, I had been falling asleep underneath the eyes of Kurt Cobain, Scott Weiland, and Eddie Vedder. Tower Records and The CD Listening Bar weren’t just for rocking out to the latest singles; they sold a ton of posters to wannabe rockstars such as myself. Turns out Shirley Manson can rock a pink boa just as well as Scott Weiland, if not better. My first longterm boyfriend, a sweet and enviably good looking boy from my youth group, was more into punk than alternative rock. He didn’t quite get the obsession, but he also didn’t not get it. He bleached his own hair and then had me paint a pinky red on one half and an emerald green on the other half. He drove a beat up navy blue VW Bug that had sway bars on top, which somehow made him think it was ok to take me off roading late one night, even though he had only just turned sixteen. My parents still have no idea how close I came to rolling down a dirt mountain. And while the mix tapes he painstakingly made me were more Pennywise and Blink-182, he also bought me a fluorescent pink boa to drape in my room. Did I mention his dazzling smile? He rarely called me by my first name, usually employing my initials instead. Throughout our tumultuous relationship (why were we so melodramatic?) and innumerable breakups, my anthems would vacillate between “Only Happy When it Rains” and “Supervixen.” Interestingly enough, “Queer” was not my main go to; I guess that would come later.^[3]

In 1998, Garbage released their second album, Version 2.0. I was still going steady with that same cute boyfriend, but he was on his way out, just as I was on my way out of high school and my childhood home. Was I a teenager among thousands, belting our way through “When I Grow Up,” wondering if we would ever feel stable? Were “Sleep Together” and “Wicked Ways” appropriate songs for a young Christian girl to be singing at the top of her lungs while driving her 1984 Volvo station wagon down the I-5 to her freshman year at San Diego State University?^[4]

“I Think I’m Paranoid” became one of my all time favorite songs, and I think I knew it would remain a favorite, even then, 25 years ago.^[5] I ditched the high school boyfriend for a college one, also a boy from youth group, slightly older and not really up for life endangering adventures. He was a boy with a plan: school, career, marriage, kids. The Feminist in me hates to admit that I was turned on by this plan, though at least he was cool enough that he didn’t have any “stay at home wife” expectations of me (at least none he vocalized). What I realize now, thinking back on this relationship, my so-called second long-term boyfriend, is that he never once went with me to a Garbage concert. That may not seem like a big deal until you learn that my sister and I were those fans. Fanatics. Shirley’s band of weirdos, her little “darklings.” The type of fans that see Garbage play up and down the coast, night after night, and even sometimes jump state lines. We loved a headlining show, but we were also cool seeing them open for No Doubt three nights in a row.

So, why didn’t he go with me to any shows? Was it his frugality? Did he realize his presence was somewhat pointless in the shadow of rock goddess Shirley Manson? When my sister and I saw Garbage play in San Diego, we invited our bestie who, in turn, invited a friend from her small Christian college, someone a little more new to the band. The friend left the show noting how uncomfortable she felt in the sway of the audience. She said something along the lines of how cultish it felt, almost like the audience was worshipping the band and worshipping Shirley Manson, and that it felt wrong to her, somehow. I remember thinking what a shame it was that she could not relax enough to close her eyes and embrace the sway, to let it move her emotionally and physically.

It is aggravating when my mom points out that the college boyfriend married a nice girl with whom he procreated, noting that they own a house in my hometown. This is mostly motivated by her displeasure at my living across the country, nowhere close to my hometown. Even if he would’ve provided a happy enough ending, I think I always knew it was a temporary thing. The evidence was in his CD collection: Backstreet Boys and ‘N Sync. Garbage concerts were for me and my sister, and all the other darklings who loved the blend of grunge and pop punk addled with introspective lyrics. We didn’t need boyfriends to accompany us.

In 2001, I had just dropped out of college and moved back home. When I say “moved back home,” I mean I literally moved back into my old bedroom. I know this has become quite common. But in 2001, a prodigal daughter sleeping on a bunk bed two doors down from her parents was on the unexpected side of things. The homecooked meals were a bonus, the nosy matriarch offering unsolicited opinions about my wardrobe choices less so (I stand by Paul Frank). When Beautiful Garbage came out, I was obsessed with “Cherry Lips.”^[6] Slightly different than their darker fare, it’s catchy “Go, Baby, Go Go!” has a pop beat to it that makes a person want to bounce in their shoes. Did I know it was going to become a queer anthem? The chime that sounds after the line “It seems like rainbows would appear” brings a smile, and I certainly loved belting the line, “You’re such a delicate boy, in the hysterical realm.” A song based on a young trans girl shining a light and making the world want to dance did not specifically apply to me, being a cisgender woman with a line of Christian ex-boyfriends, but it certainly appealed to me. In “Shut Your Mouth,” Shirley asks, “How do you feel about God and religion, are you good people, bad people, guess it doesn’t matter people?” and I couldn’t help but scream along.^[7] And then there was the video for “Androgyny.” I remember watching that video over and over, wondering if my fandom had something more to it, something more along the lines of sexual attraction.^[8]

I had no one to talk to about this feeling. I wasn’t a kid, but I was a young person who had been involved in her evangelical church since she was five. Also, I had been in love with my two boyfriends, real love, and I had certainly made out with plenty of other boys growing up. My gay friends were just that, gay. I didn’t have any close lesbian friends and my church was not a queer friendly place. Beautiful Garbage was the soundtrack to my early 20s. Even though “Can’t Cry These Tears” and “Cup of Coffee” were essentially break up songs, they tapped into my loneliness and fear and anxiety.^[9] I was also obsessed with the film Kissing Jessica Stein, and I wondered if I was a straight girl with one small crush.^[10] Or two. In retrospect, the film is mildly problematic from a queer perspective, but it certainly made New York, writing, and kissing girls look cool.

And then I did it. I kissed a girl. Was “Supervixen” playing in the background? I was at her place, so probably not. I remember my best friend asking me about it, wanting to know every detail. Soft and fun. That is how I answered her. Soft and fun. Then I met a cute boy outside a Garbage concert. He had his eyebrow pierced, and there was something so sexy about a guy willing to wait for hours outside a venue, just for a chance to glimpse the band as they piled into the tour bus. It only lasted a few months, but I wonder if he still listens to Garbage all the time. The next girl I kissed became my girlfriend of three years. I gave her a titanium ring with the words “#1 Crush” inscribed on the inside. Like many teenagers in the ‘90’s, I had been obsessed with Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes in Romeo + Juliet, which means I kept that soundtrack on repeat with no regard for others in the household.^[11] I know the lyrics are a bit dark (this is Garbage, after all), but I see the romance in pain and death and never being ignored.

In 2005, Bleed Like Me came out.^[12] And I came out. My sister had already announced to the family that she was gay, which did not go over well. There was the intervention at the pastor’s home, buckets of tears, the Easter brunch the new girlfriend was not invited to, the yelling matches, the lack of understanding or willingness to try and understand. My shaky voice telling my parents I was “not straight” was slightly easier for them to stomach, coming on the tail end of a turbulent few months with my sister. Coming out to my Bible Study did not go as well as I had hoped, and I ultimately left my church. It was one of those contemporary, seemingly progressive places that “opened its arms to all,” but the “all” part had some fine print. When my girlfriend invited me to move with her to San Francisco, California, I was down. I didn’t know I had it in me to be a city girl, but I did know that I always wanted to be on the concert tour route. I was also excited at the prospect of leaving the judgment of Orange County behind me. We blasted “Sex is Not the Enemy” on our drive up the coast, ready for new things.^[13]

One year later, we were friends. Admittedly, I was pretty shocked when she broke up with me when the time came to renew our lease. This came a year or so after Garbage took their own hiatus (Shirley always insisted it was not a break up). I ditched the crying break-up songs and stuck to the more gruesome ones, such as “Bleed Like Me” and “Happy Home.”^[14] It always made me tear up when I sang, “Getting all nostalgic as he sings ‘I Will Survive,’ hey baby, can you bleed like me.” On days I wanted to dance it out, I would put Version 2.0 on repeat, screaming, “I used to adore you!” with no irony. I found a queer affirming church in San Francisco, and for the first time in my life, I had a group of Christian friends that didn’t shun me, or insist upon praying for my transformation. I dated some men, though we had no Garbage concert date nights available to us, and no one stuck. Then my ex-girlfriend told me she was moving to New York. At this point, we had reverted to best friends. Yes, I know this is a lesbian cliché, but also, it’s pretty nice to stay friends with an ex, and I was eventually convinced.

In 2011, I moved to New York City. One year later, those that doubted a band could take a temporary break were proven wrong, and Garbage released Not Your Kind of People.^[15] When the band came to Atlantic City, my ex-girlfriend turned best friend and I knew we needed to go; it had been over six years since our last Shirley fix. She brought a friend and I brought a girl I had recently started dating. The band mixed things up a bit, splicing lyrics and music from other bands into their intros and outros. One thing that hadn’t changed was their willingness to listen to the crowd. If enough people demanded a song, say “Girl Don’t Come” or “Trip My Wire,” they were softies and would acquiesce. When my Atlantic City date broke up with me a few months later, I realized it was for the best.^[16]

When I moved to New York, I had started using the labels “bi” and “queer” to describe myself. I know not everyone likes labels, and I understand their aversion, but for me, it felt right to stand strong in a community. There are so many negative stereotypes around bisexual people, and the Atlantic City ex was a proud lesbian who “didn’t usually date bi girls” because of those stereotypes. I wanted to be a proud bisexual, a person not confined to dating or falling in love with only one gender. The main reason I know it was for the best is that I started dating an amazing Australian woman a few months later, someone who bought four tickets to see Garbage at Terminal Five and told me to invite two friends to join us. I think she was a tad surprised that I knew so many of the lyrics and had no qualms with belting along and dancing for ninety minutes straight. But I also think she got it, which is all that matters.

In 2016, Strange Little Birds came out and Garbage went on tour again^[17] My Australian girlfriend drove me and my sister to Philadelphia so that we could see them perform two nights before they hit Central Park’s Summerstage. The original ex-girlfriend turned best friend joined us for the New York show, and though the album was one of their darkest and slowest of burns yet, they also played highlights from other albums, including a special mix of “Stupid Girl.”^[18] Shirley emphasized that the mood of Strange Little Birds is “darkness,” and even though I sang along to “Even Though Our Love Is Doomed,” I was more into the elation of life.^[19]

In 2017, Garbage and Blondie played their “Rage and Rapture” tour, and they made it to the Beacon in the Upper West Side. My sister and I went to the show, while the Australian girlfriend now turned wife stayed at home with our infant daughter. Shirley rocked the house, effusive in her praise of Debbie Harry and happy to be in such a beautiful Manhattan venue. I sang my heart out, but kept the dancing to a milder form, as my breasts swelled with milk. I felt like such a woman and such a rockstar, ironically singing along to “I am so empty” before I expressed my excess milk in the Beacon bathroom stall in between sets. Nothing was going to stop me from seeing two of the greatest bands of all time in one show.

Garbage released No Gods No Masters in the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic.^[20] It was early 2021, and though vaccines were becoming more and more available, they wouldn’t tour until 2022. But oh, how it was worth the wait. Whoever was lucky enough to see Garbage and Alanis bring down the house, night after night, will remember those shows forever. I stood next to a woman weeping, touching my arm, telling me it was the first time she had been in a crowd in years. She was so happy, she said, so very happy. I got it. We were alive and singing with joy and nostalgia and yes, even the notion of loss, but we were all together.

In between their last two albums, Garbage embarked on a “20 Years Queer” tour. My sister and I splurged on VIP tickets. We were able to meet the band in person, albeit briefly, in the historic Kings Theater in Brooklyn. While we waited in line, we met other fanatic darklings of all ages. Most of them were around our own age, those who were in high school in the ‘90’s, so we reminisced about Garbage first hitting the scene. We saw fans whom we remembered from other shows, people like us who have been seeing the band perform for decades. The most heartwarming thing of all was the amount of younger fans in attendance, people who saw themselves in the ballads of loneliness and difference and rebellion and queerness.

Every year, it feels as if Garbage has become more and more queer, just as I have become more and more queer. And now I have a kindergartener who gets in the car and requests the song, “Because the Night” and to “turn it up, please.”^[21] If someone dares to put on Patti Smith or 10,000 Maniacs, she immediately shouts, “Not that version!” She is only content when she hears Shirley singing, “Take me now, baby, here as I am,” the Screaming Females accompanying her. As soon as she is old enough, I will be taking her to see Garbage perform live. For now, she gets to listen to her auntie and her two moms reminisce about all the times they have seen Shirley Manson rock the house, comparing and competing and waxing at length about all things Garbage. And when “Only Happy When it Rains” comes on, you know she will tell us to turn it up.^[22]

Bibliography

1. Garbage, “Androgyny.” YouTube Video, 3:14. December 26, 2009.
2. https://youtu.be/hVs6Fekh0RY
3. Garbage. Beautiful Garbage. Almo, 2001.
4. Garbage. Bleed Like Me. Almo, 2005.
5. Garbage. Garbage. Almo, 1995.
6. Garbage. Garbage 20^th Anniversary Deluxe Edition. Almo, 2015.
7. Garbage. No Gods No Masters. Stunvolume, 2021.
8. Garbage. No Gods No Masters Deluxe Edition. Stunvolume, 2021.
9. Garbage. Not Your Kind of People. Stunvolume, 2012.
10. Garbage. Strange Little Birds. Stunvolume, 2016.
11. Garbage. Version 2.0. Almo, 1998.
12. Kissing Jessica Stein. Directed by Charles Herman-Wurmfeld (Fox Searchlight Pictures, 2001).
13. Romeo + Juliet. Directed by Baz Luhrmann (20th Century Fox, 1996).

Notes

1. Garbage, Garbage, Almo, 1995.

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2. Garbage, “Not My Idea,” Track 5 on Garbage, Almo, 1995.

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3. Garbage, “Only Happy When It Rains,” Track 3; “Supervixen,” Track 1; “Queer,” Track 2, on Garbage, Almo, 1995.

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4. Garbage, “When I Grow Up,” Track 3; “Sleep Together,” Track 19; “Wicked Ways,” Track 11, on Version 2.0, Almo, 1998.

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5. Garbage, “I Think I’m Paranoid,” Track 2 on Version 2.0, Almo, 1998.

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6. Garbage, “Cherry Lips,” Track 7 on Beautiful Garbage, Almo, 2001.

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7. Garbage, “Shut Your Mouth,” Track 1 on Beautiful Garbage, Almo, 2001.

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8. Garbage, “Androgyny.” YouTube Video, 3:14. December 26, 2009. https://youtu.be/hVs6Fekh0RY

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9. Garbage, “Can’t Cry These Tears,” Track 3; “Cup of Coffee,” Track 5 on Beautiful Garbage, Almo, 2001.

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10. Kissing Jessica Stein, directed by Charles Herman-Wurmfeld (Fox Searchlight Pictures, 2001).

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11. Romeo + Juliet, directed by Baz Luhrmann (20^th Century Fox, 1996).

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12. Garbage, Bleed Like Me. Almo, 2005.

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13. Garbage, “Sex Is Not the Enemy,” Track 7 on Bleed Like Me, Almo, 2005.

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14. Garbage, “Bleed Like Me,” Track 5; “Happy Home,” Track 11 on Bleed Like Me, Almo, 2005.

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15. Garbage, Not Your Kind of People, Stunvolume, 2012.

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16. Garbage, “Girl Don’t Come,” Track 2; “Trip My Wire,” Track 5 on Garbage 20^th Anniversary Deluxe Edition, Disc 2, Almo, 2015.

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17. Garbage, Strange Little Birds, Stunvolume, 2016.

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18. Garbage, “Stupid Girl,” Track 8 on Garbage, Almo, 1995.

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19. Garbage, “Even Though Our Love Is Doomed,” Track 6 on Strange Little Birds, Stunvolume, 2016.

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20. Garbage, No Gods No Masters, Stunvolume, 2021.

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21. Garbage, featuring Screaming Females, “Because the Night,” Track 4 on No Gods No Masters Deluxe Edition, Disc 2, Stunvolume, 2021.

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22. Garbage, “Only Happy When it Rains,” Track 3 on Garbage, Almo, 1995.

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