By Josh Gondelman — 04 Aug 2025

#143. 90s Bands and You

Anyway, here's the guys who do "Wonderwall."

As usual, a quick reminder that That's Marvelous is free to read, but if you consider yourself a patron of the arts, it would mean a lot if you'd consider a paid subscription for the sake of keeping things running over here and helping me finance new dog toys after my dog chews the fluff out of the old ones.

Hi everyone,

Last Wednesday night I found myself rummaging through a drawer containing both paperwork that would be life-ruining to lose and comedy festival lanyards that I cannot make myself throw away for some reason. While looking for my social security card so I could upgrade my drivers license to a Real ID for reasons that are still unclear to me, I came across a small wad of Canadian bills, merch money from the last time I was in Toronto. Perfect, I thought. I’m going back to Toronto this weekend, and this cash is like a gift certificate for the nation of Canada. It wasn’t quite enough money to be worth exchanging in the U.S., but the exact right amount to treat a buddy to breakfast and to buy a round of post-show drinks. I also found my social security card so, single drawer storage method confirmed flawless. Not open open to process tweaks.

I had a truly ideal weekend performing at Comedy Bar and hanging out with friends. That’s the word I kept using: Ideal. The weather had broken after a long heatwave and was perfect for walking around. I was able to schedule time with many (but not all!) of my Torontonian (correct use of -nian???) friends. I walked roughly six miles around town on Saturday and then realized NO I walked roughly TWELVE kilometers which felt even more satisfying. Basically a half marathon if you don't think too hard about it.

Highball glass on a wooden table. The drink is a reddish cola. The very cubic ice cubes are visible. It's garnished with a thin slice of lime wrapped around a cherry. — This tasted like a forbidden beverage that kids would try to get the bartender to make them at a bar mitzvah party.

On Friday after my show I stayed out later than intended at a friend's house, and even though I hadn’t had a drink in a week and a half, the few adult beverages I imbibed didn’t leave me too banged up on Saturday morning. And then I was off and running. I saw a museum exhibit about the history of Toronto basketball that Katie “Handles” Heindl helped put together. I had a breakfast at a kitschy diner with the aforementioned Katie (I ordered the "famous oink" which was slightly less good than a regular breakfast sandwich, which is still pretty good) and dinner at a charming wine bar tucked away on a little side street. Even my lone pre-show cocktail—far outside my usual comfort zone…fernet????—was perfect, like an adult Cherry Coke. After my final show on Saturday I had some “midnight shawarma” (my words, not theirs) which would make a good name for an improv troupe.

A wooden Paddington sculpture up in the air with signs advertising a "peameal bacon sandwich." — Katie pointed out the horror in Paddington's eyes and now it's all I can see.

The shows were outstanding, too. My openers, Andrew Ivimey and John Mostyn, killed every set. The crowds were warm and loose, ready to get silly. Honestly, they were almost TOO nice! Which was just what I needed. And possibly best of all I did about 80% new jokes, 10% old jokes, and 10% goofing around, which makes me even more excited about my upcoming tour dates knowing that I don’t have to lean on much material that people have already heard.

Speaking of which, I’ve got two shows in a Philadelphia at a little theater as part of a comedy festival on 8/23! Come out and hear the new jokes, Philly!

Thanks for the great time, Toronto. Hope to see you again soon!

Oh! I didn't know they were making this public, but the first half of the live Q&A I did with Greg Davies and (Little) Alex Horne is available as the most recent episode of Taskmaster The Podcast.

Also last week I was on the Sklar Brothers’ and Daniel Van Kirk’s podcast Dumb People Town talking through some local news stories, one which got a little darker than I’d expected and one that was extremely silly and fun.

I also hopped in my pal Remy Kassimir’s podcast How Cum? which is usually about sex but this time was about sleeping. My Pillow Talk co-host Sophia Wilson Pelton was on too, and we had a great chat about bedtime.

Anyway! I'm hanging out at Frankenstein's Baby at Union Hall tonight, which will be great, and I'm doing a bunch of spots around NYC (more info below) before I take off again next weekend. See you around if you're around!

PEP TALK FOR 90s BANDS

Five individual pictures of the members of Oasis. From Wikipedia. — They're looking in various directions, but importantly not back in anger.

As my friend Lindsey Adler recently chronicled so brilliantly (British term!), Oasis has reunited and is playing shows in the U.K. before a little international tour. People are extremely excited about this development, in part because they love the music of Oasis but also in part I imagine because they're a band that could, at any moment, start kicking each other's asses on or offstage, which is undeniably electric, to crib an adjective favored by the band.

Like many kids who grew up largely in the last decade of the 1900s, I know and enjoy several Oasis songs. (And I know they made music into this century, but the 90s were when they were everywhere so I'm assigning them to that era.) Obviously "Wonderwall" has become an acoustic guitar guy meme, and "Don't Look Back In Anger" is a road trip singalong staple. They have many other good songs too, ones the fans like much more than the two I brought up, but those are the two that feel relevant to my life, and two indelible songs is kind of a lot for a band that was never in my personal most-listened. (I will say that I am anti-"Champagne Supernova" except for the guitar solo.) Still, whenever I find out that an American is super into Oasis, I have the same thought as when I find out that a U.S. citizen is super into English Premier League football (British term!). "Oh, you must like to get drunk before noon." It's not a fair thought, but it is one that I think.

In this moment of Oasis's renewed ascendance, I want to offer some kind words to other 90s bands, ones who might not garner the same number of ticket sales or generate the same amount of enthusiasm or inspire the purchase of the same quantity of bucket hats (unnecessary for appreciating the music of Oasis; if anything they cover your ears a little bit). Not every band, regardless of the heights of their apexes (apeces?), has such a teeming horde of fans who like The Beatles just fine but would enjoy them even more if they were always on the verge of a fistfight with each other.

This is for your Hooties and their attendant Blowfish. Your Third Eyes Blind. Your Chumbaswumba. Bands that have split up years ago, or stayed together, or called it quits recently after gently descending from their peaks. It is, importantly, not for Pearl Jam or Green Day or other bands who are currently playing huge venues. You can look to your 20,000 screaming fans every night to hype you up. I don't have time for that. I'm busy, Bono.

To these other bands, the ones whose names and work we all know by heart even though they no longer remain at the peak of their renown. Don't let Oasis make you feel bad! Don't be suckered into getting back together with your old bandmates if it's only for a phantom paycheck you hope might exist out there on the horizon. It's like getting back with an ex, except for you and your ex don't have to perform together in front of theaters or stadiums full of people every night. Unless you're the members of Fleetwood Mac.

Or, hey! Maybe the success of Manchesters laddest lads has inspired you to seek a personal reconciliation with your own estranged bandmates. How nice would it be for the guys (?) in Fastball to see the other guys in fastball again and look back fondly on their time together with some distance. Whoops, never mind. Fastball is still together. Hell yeah, Fastball. Keep up the good work!

You can't judge yourself against your most popular peers (this all goes for everyone, not just the band Fastball), and you certainly can't let other people's success set the rubric for your own happiness. You cannot allow the enduring appeal of Dave Matthews to make your life feel worse. (I guess that applies to some non-musicians as well, depending on your taste.) Whether you've been in the same musical ensemble for thirty years or your outfit went (champagne) supernova after your first record, you're still here, and you're doing your best. Whether the crowds are at their biggest or have waned with time, they were never really the signifier of your worth. That comes from within. There's a good chance you've gotten to this point of serenity without a pep talk from a stranger, but if not, take this to heart: Maybe...you're gonna be the one that saves you.

PEP TALK FOR A READER

I did a little editing–but not too much–of this request just for clarity.

I'm getting married! I'm very worried my family will cause an actual scene. I'd love a pep talk for getting through that day and the lifetime with my husband who now has to be related to the aforementioned family.
- Dancing On a Wife's Edge

Congratulations on the upcoming wedding! Looming family terror aside, that's such an exciting day to look forward to. And then it will be in the past, and you'll get to experience the joy of not having to plan a wedding anymore. But back to the matter at hand...

Maybe this is a little controversial of me to say but: It's totally fine if your wedding gets slightly ruined. If you are very, very worried there will be a scene, you could (hypothetically) pre-empt that scene by causing the alternate scene of not inviting some family members to the wedding at all. But if you are dedicated to avoiding that specific brand of fiasco (I'm picturing the word "fiasco" written like "Tabasco" for some reason), I think it might be helpful to consider how badly it could possibly go, and whether that might be fine. A kerfuffle at a wedding is not a pox upon your marriage. It's not a disqualification of your vows. Plenty of people act badly at plenty of parties, and life goes on, and mostly the other folks there have a good time. A core tenet I try to live by is that sometimes things are a little bad but still a lot good. It serves me well when flights get delayed or when there's only a little ice cream left in the thing of ice cream.

Additionally, your husband-to-be is not ruined by his new legal relationship to your relatives. As far as I can tell, nobody infuses you with your spouse's family's DNA when you say "I do." They do not force you at swordpoint to take up arms in preexisting familial squabbles. Given the specificity of your wedding concerns, it sounds like maybe you keep your relatives at arm's length a lot of the time, rather than allowing them to come rumbling into your life like a cloud of dust with fists and feet visible around the edges of their dusty rolling chaos. If that is the case, then your husband is probably safe from their destabilizing energy on a day-to-day basis. And as long as you have not been hiding them from him and lying about your feelings ("You're going to love hanging out with them! It's like spending time at one of those cafes full of puppies!") I imagine he's gotten the picture by now.

As usual, I don't really do advice here. But I will say that this is your wedding and your life. It sounds like your family is not an especially benevolent force in either of those arenas. But they are not the weather; you do not have to submit to their ruining everything without warning. They are people, and you're a person too, and this is your wedding not theirs. It's your party, and you don't have to cry if you don't want to, if you know what I mean.

PICK-ME-UP SONG OF THE WEEK:
Lindsey Buckingham - "Holiday Road"

Obviously I’ve heard this song forever, but I never really investigated it because it was always a treat to catch it in a movie or a Walgreens (for years I felt the same way about “Jump” by the Pointer Sisters). Then I saw it referenced in my friend Caitie’s Instagram story and listened to it on purpose which did not diminish its luster, fortunately.

I’ve had a little bit of Buckingham on the brain lately (as evidenced by the earlier Fleetwood Mac reference). At karaoke a few weeks ago, I referenced to a friend the backstory that “Drivers License” by Olivia Rodrigo was about Rodrigo's boyfriend leaving her for Sabrina Carpenter, and this friend had no idea what I was talking about because his pop culture lexicon ends in the early 80s (his words). Enthusiastically, I showed him the Stevie Nicks/Lindsey Buckingham coordinated Instagram posts from earlier in the week, and he seemed delighted that I was now speaking his language. (And let's all wish a speedy recovery to Stevie Nicks on her fractured shoulder!)

I guess you could say I’ve been Fleetwood Maxxing lately. You shouldn’t! But you could!

You also might enjoy knowing that Beth Stelling has a new standup special out. Beth is great, and I haven't had a chance to watch this yet because of travel, but I can't wait to!!! You heard it here first...or third? You heard it here is the point.