Sponge
Molly b/w Cowboy Eyes
scum stats: limited edition numbered copies on marigold colored vinyl. It's unclear how "limited" it actually is. my copy is #2884
When this song was released as a single in 1995, I'm pretty sure I *liked* it. I don't recall anyone in my immediate social circle of 13-year-old boys LOVING it, but as it was played ad nauseam on the local rock radio stations, it penetrated enough so that you couldn't really even ignore it. At worst, you just had to accept it.
Sponge being from Detroit didn't even really seem to make any connection to us either. It's not like we knew them or saw them around. They still might as well had been from Mars for all we knew. My appreciation for local music was still a good 4-5 years away.
And once that appreciation for local music struck, in the form of the underground garage bands of the late 1990s, my proverbial about-face found me shit-talking Sponge. Like they were an after-thought response to the true rebel artistry of the Seattle bands preceding them.
I held on to that mindset for a good fifteen years.
Then without warning, on paternity leave back in 2016, driving home from Babies 'R' Us with a dresser/changing table in the back of the Flex, I caught "Molly" on the Lithium channel on satellite radio.
The production still left something to be desired, but more than ever, the WORDS got to me. My understanding is that the song is inspired by a story of an ill-fated professor/student romance, capped off with a suicide attempt.
Maybe it was colored by fatherhood, or just the warmth of the familiarity of the lyrics after so many years, but the song, despite all its affected guitar and bluster and edge, struck me as so melancholy, as heartfelt, as properly emotional.
I went on a rabbit hole looking through various live versions and acoustic renditions and the feeling not only remained, but intensified. While the attempted rhyming of "glass" and "vase" still irks me, I keep coming back to the vocal melody sung with the pair of lines "don't ask why" and "sixteen candles down the drain."
The melody is heartbreaking, it is dour, but at the same time, there's a weird underlying glimmer of optimism to it all. I sing this to myself all the goddamned time.
At the time I made a note to myself that Third Man should reach out to whoever controlled the rights to the Rotting Pinata LP and we should do a big proper reissue of it. I slept on that note, someone else did the reissue and to placate myself I tracked down a 7-inch copy for less money that I spend on a single can of Ghost energy drink.
I've got a quasi-secret plan for this song, I'm not ready to let the cat out of the bag just yet, but assuming I can pull some shit together, it will have made it all incredibly worth it. Stay tuned.
