Since spring finally put out, I was just looking for some music to take outside on this cuddle-warm sunshiney whee whee ha ha tickle ring-a-ding miles of smiles turquoise and terrycloth day. During the process – I eventually chose The Feelies’ “Only Life”, thanks – I came upon a CD I plumb forgot I owned. It’s easy to overlook, as it is dead last in alphabetical order, visible only at slug’s-eye view from my floor.
I have listened to this CD only twice and, while I thought it was a good idea at the time, the band’s title now elicits only girlish titters from me. I know it’s been a long time since its release and many of you – perhaps all of you – have probably forgotten about it but I think it’s important to remember. For now, and for the rest of history, I would just like to ask, “ZWAN?” Really, ZWAN? REALLY? Corgan, you named your band ZWAN. You had a million names to choose from, many of which might have provided the same prog-rock resonance, and you fucking chose ZWAN. You know what would have been an awesome exercise? If you and your bandmates role-played for a bit, pretending to be potential ZWAN consumers and fans. Like, you could have said the following sentences out loud just to hear how ridiculous they all sound:
- “Dude, I’m totally psyched. Just three more weeks ’til ZWAN.”
- “OK, who wants ZWAN tickets? No one? Cool. More ZWAN for me.”
- “Anyone up for some ZWAN?”
- “Hey, do you own this bar? Well, can you tell the owner that his jukebox is severely lacking in the ZWAN department.”
- “Two ZWANs, please. Thank you, sir.”
- “Ronnie, I would like it very much if you fingered me to ZWAN.”
- “What? Oh yeah, my t-shirt says, ‘ZWAN.’ Huh? Oh no ha. It’s not the name of a gay magician. It’s a band. Yeah, for serious. ZWAN. No, I can’t think of the names of any of their songs but they rock. Quit laughing, I’m serious.”
I’m just saying, is all.
