Musically, 1995 was a beautiful mess. On one side of the radio, you had the swagger of Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise” and the gritty boom-bap of Mobb Deep’s The Infamous . On the other, you had Alanis Morissette standing in a leather chair, screaming “You Oughta Know” with a ferocity that made the entire concept of a "polite female singer" explode.
Rock was having an identity crisis and loving it. The Smashing Pumpkins released Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness —a double album of operatic angst that would be deemed "too long" for modern streaming. Radiohead released The Bends , proving you could be weird and heartbreakingly mainstream. Meanwhile, Björk was literally swanning around in a stuffed animal dress. uninhibited 1995
It was a year when we still believed in the cult of the personality—the flawed, messy, loud, brilliant personality. It was the last deep breath before the digital leash tightened. Musically, 1995 was a beautiful mess
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