The further I flipped, the more the 90s came alive—not as a nostalgic aesthetic, but as a chaotic, contradictory, beautiful mess. Page twelve: . Margin note: “We all hated this when it came out. We were wrong. It’s the perfect end credits song for the decade.” Beside it, Maya had drawn a tiny shrek head.

Anthony Kiedis’s melodic poem about loneliness and drug addiction in Los Angeles.

– “First song that made me cry in a food court.” #57: “Du Hast” – Rammstein (1997) – “Jerome’s mom walked in during this. She asked if we were ‘summoning something.’ We said yes.” #42: “Bittersweet Symphony” – The Verve (1997) – “They lost every penny of royalties. The song still won.”

A laid-back, sun-drenched fusion of ska-punk, reggae rhythms, and melodic guitar solos.

The binder contained The Ultimate Top Hundred Songs of the 1990s , as determined by him and his three best friends—Maya, Jerome, and “Crazy” Craig—during a marathon argument on New Year’s Eve 1999. They’d stayed up all night, fueled by Surge and cheap vodka, listening to a five-disc changer and yelling about whether “Smells Like Teen Spirit” deserved the top spot (yes) or if it was overexposed (Craig’s losing argument).

He laughed—a real, rusty laugh. “We tried in 2009. Got to song #92. Craig suggested ‘Hey Ya!’ and we all just… stopped. It wasn’t the same. The binder got put away.”

The 1990s witnessed guitar-driven rock migrating from subterranean indie clubs directly into massive stadium tours.