Sean Beaudoin cannot believe it’s been twenty years since the iconic film Reservoir Dogs premiered.
Can it really be twenty years since Reservoir Dogs shuffled in black suits toward the collective lens? I saw a matinee with a few friends in San Francisco the week it came out. That night I put on shorts and cowboy boots and wove my bike through traffic, grinding up the long hill to Tower Records just to buy the soundtrack. Mainly because the movie had badly dented my visual framework, but even more so because the riff from the George Baker Selection’s “Little Green Bag” was crammed into the center of my medulla like a drywall screw.
That song is now more or less famous because of the film, but it was obscure back then and it blew me away, a mixture of hippie soul, tight-reverb, and Mulberry Street mob jukebox crooning. Okay, but here’s the weird thing, the point of this reverie: I bought the goddamned thing on CASSETTE. Was I actually alive before CDs, let alone Mp3s? Did cassettes really even exist? Did I glide home and slam that little plastic rectangle into my Teac deck and crank it about nine times in a row while dancing around our tiny apartment barefoot, clutching a bottle of cheap red like a reluctant partner while a Marlboro dangled on my lip? Yeah. Oh, yeah, I was. And I did.
Check out Sean Beaudoin’s latest novel, Wise Young Fool