Redefining my Life WIth Incubus' S.C.I.E.N.C.E.

by editor Michele Catalano

I’m sick of painting in black and white/My pen is dry and I’m all uptight/So sick of limiting myself/To fit your definition

Incubus - Redefine

This isn’t the first Incubus song I heard - that belongs to “Certain Shade of Green” which I was introduced to by my sister Lisa - but it was this song that would mean the most to me, that came to define me for a year.

1997 was a strange and wonderful and depressing year. I fluctuated between feeling like I could conquer the world and feeling like the world was conquering me. I was post-divorce with two small kids, navigating the curves in the road ahead of me. There were some lows. But oh, were there some highs, and they all had to do with music.

This was the year I discovered that the local community college had a nu-metal/alternative show on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Nu-metal was a hot commodity in ‘97. The DJs were amicable and put up with Lisa and me calling all the time to request songs. Sometimes I’d let my kids call and they’d request Coal Chamber (they loved “Big Truck”). We always got to hear what we wanted.

I’d had a lot of adrenaline since the divorce was finalized. I felt free, loosened from the grip of a bad marriage. I didn’t know what to do with myself and I went kind of crazy and lived off of Surge soda and cigarettes and mini snickers bars. I spent my days and nights on AOL, scouring chat rooms for people who liked the same music as me. I was manic and the music I was listening to fit me like a glove.

After Lisa introduced me to “Certain Shade of Green” I decided to make a commitment to this band I’d never heard before. I went out and bought myself the album (actually a CD). I opened it up in the car so I could listen to it on my drive home from the record store. I put it in the CD player and prayed to the rock gods that the rest of the album was as good as the one song I heard.

There’s a slow build up flush with instruments that make me think I’m in outer space. And then the song really kicks in. I mean, really. It hit me with force and about thirty seconds into the song I knew that not only would the rest of the album be as good as “Certain Shade of Green” but would be even better than I hoped for.

I raced home so I could listen from the beginning and really pay attention to the lyrics. I poured myself a Surge and vodka, grabbed some mini Snickers, and hit play. I let the opening notes take me away, closed my eyes, and waited to be punched by sound.

I’m sick of painting in black and white my pen is dry and I’m all uptight

Those words poked at me again. This song was reaching out to me and I answered its call. By the time it was over for the second time, I had signed onto AOL and changed my screen name from DuHast to Redefine. I made a transition then, mentally. Could I move on from being angry, could I redefine myself to fit my own definition of who I am? I was one song in and I was so hooked on this band already.

I finally let the rest of the album play out. It was late in the year, right around Christmas, and the early winter darkness had snuck up on me. I had been so engrossed in listening, so enthralled with what I was hearing, that I didn’t realize I’d been sitting in the dark. I went to pick my kids up at my mother’s house. I couldn’t wait to get back home to listen again.

AOL at the time had profiles. I don’t remember the details, I just know that profiles were searchable, because the minute I put Incubus as a band I liked, I got a message from a guy in Pennsylvania asking me if I ever heard their album Enjoy Incubus. I had not, promised to go pick it up that week, and ended up having a three hour conversation with him, which culminated with a wedding four years later. That’s not the story here, though. That’s for another day, and Nick Cave.

If you ask my daughter what the soundtrack to her childhood was, she will invariably answer with S.C.I.E.N.C.E. For almost an entire year, I played this record constantly. It was on in the house, it was on in the car. When I started a new job in 1998, the car CD came into the office with me. Sure, I listened to other stuff; music was wild at the time, so much to choose from. But Incubus was my emotional support band. S.C.I.E.N.C.E. was my comfort, my weighted blanket, my solace. “New Skin” made me think. “Idiot Box” made me reflect. “Summer Romance” made me swoon. The lyrics, the music, the whole overall vibe of the band itself, it was all a godsend for me in a year that had been tumultuous. Here, I found peace.

I finally bought S.C.I.E.N.C.E. on vinyl a few years ago, soon after I started collecting again in earnest. I knew it needed to be in my collection. When the package arrived, I opened it with reverence. I stared at it for a few minutes, memories crashing in; seeing them three times on this tour, the masks they gave out at shows, sharing my exuberance about this band with Lisa, trying to get everyone in the AOL Guess Song By Lyrics chat room to listen to it.

The slow build up. The song kicks in. The sound fills my living room. I am home.

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