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Last splash as the ür-text of 90s modern rock

Robin James makes a startling claim that upends the standard history of 1990s rock: the era's defining sound wasn't the grunge of Seattle, but the eclectic "modern rock" of Dayton, Ohio. While pop star Olivia Rodrigo credits The Breeders' 1993 album Last Splash as a life-altering moment, James argues this isn't just a nostalgic revival; it is a corrective that peels away the "bro-ification" of the genre to reveal a more diverse, genre-blending past that the industry tried to erase.

Rewriting the Rock Timeline

James begins by dismantling the "standard narrative" that hinges entirely on Nirvana. She notes that while the industry pushed a story of "male aggression" that re-centered "cishetero white dudes" in modern rock, this was a deliberate narrowing of a genre that had previously been "more than a bit queer." The author writes, "The grunge phenomenon put bros back at the center of the format," a shift that made it nearly impossible for critics to know how to categorize The Breeders when Last Splash arrived.

Last splash as the ür-text of 90s modern rock

The evidence James marshals is compelling: she points to 1993 reviews that fixated on the band's gender rather than their music, asking "What happens when a woman is the 'I'?" as if the album's sonic innovation didn't exist. This framing is effective because it exposes how the "alternative" label was an industry construct designed to exclude women and queerness, rather than a genuine musical evolution. Critics might note that this view risks oversimplifying the genuine cultural impact of grunge, but James's focus on the exclusionary mechanics of the press remains a vital correction.

"The alternative narrative centered men so strongly that when Last Splash came out the press simply didn't know what to do with The Breeders."

The Dayton Alternative

The piece's most distinctive contribution is its geographic and stylistic re-centering on Dayton and the radio station WOXY. James argues that Last Splash is not an "alternative" album in the Seattle sense, but a "thoroughly modern rock album" that embodies the station's ethos of "variety, and lots of it." She details how the album pulls from "SoCal ska," "downtown NYC experimentalism," and "Bootsie Collins-style funk," mirroring the station's playlist which included hip hop, reggae, and electronic dance music.

As Robin James puts it, "To take Last Splash as the ür-text of 90s rock is thus to foreground modern rock rather than 'alternative,' which flattened out its predecessor's stylistic and demographic spectrum into a narrow focus on dudes with guitars." This is a powerful reframing that shifts the axis of rock history from the Pacific Northwest to the Midwest. It suggests that the "alternative" bubble was always a corporate narrowing, while the true spirit of the era lived in stations like WOXY that refused to "put any boundaries around the music."

The Industry's New Feminist Turn

James connects this historical revisionism to the current moment, noting that the push to elevate The Breeders is driven by a "popular feminism" that has overtaken pop music. With artists like Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift dominating the charts, the industry no longer needs the "rockist" narrative of white men with guitars. Instead, Live Nation and the press are stitching together a timeline that highlights women, treating Kim Deal as the "Olivia Colman of modern rock."

The author observes that "the music industry's currently high baseline level of popular feminism is certainly behind some of the push to rewrite the story of 90s alternative around Kim and The Breeders." While this commercial alignment might seem cynical to some, James argues it has a positive outcome: it allows for a "stylistic tour" of influences that the old narrative suppressed. The argument holds weight because it acknowledges that while the motivation may be market-driven, the result is a more accurate and inclusive musical history.

"WOXY preserved and refined the modern rock narrative while everybody else was going on about 'alternative.'"

Bottom Line

Robin James delivers a rigorous and necessary correction to rock history, successfully arguing that the "alternative" era was a temporary, exclusionary detour from the genre's true, eclectic roots. The piece's greatest strength is its use of radio history to prove that diversity was always part of the DNA of 90s music, even if the press tried to hide it. However, the argument relies heavily on the assumption that the current industry embrace of this narrative is purely about historical correction, potentially underestimating the commercial calculations at play. Readers should watch to see if this "modern rock" revival leads to a sustained shift in how new music is categorized, or if it remains a nostalgic marketing tool.

Sources

Last splash as the ür-text of 90s modern rock

by Robin James · · Read full article

Though the standard narrative of 90s alternative hinges on the explosive success of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” Gen Z pop star Olivia Rodrigo is known for having a different take: as she told the LA Times at the end of 2023, hearing The Breeders’ 1993 breakout hit “Cannonball” for the first time was so revolutionary that the event periodizes her life into a “before” and “after.” Whether this is a sincerely held belief or industry spin doesn’t really matter, as its effects are undeniably palpable. The Breeders’ influence on Rodrigo’s album GUTS is unmistakable, to the point that they also opened for Rodrigo on the tour supporting her album so audiences could connect the dots themselves. Billboard’s Andrew Unterberger writes that “Rodrigo inviting the '90s alt greats to be part of her story helps stitch together a rock timeline that never should have been interrupted” by the “male aggression took [that] over the sound of modern rock [when] alt radio essentially decided it didn’t need women” in the late 1990s. For Unterberger, Rodrigo has helped heal “the continued rock chronology” by highlighting the role of the woman whom even Kurt Coban cited as one of his significant influences but whose influence the industry and the press didn’t find important to shepherd.

In the early 90s, the industry and the press were interested in the way heavy, angry white men like Nirvana and Nine Inch Nails could re-center cishetero white dudes in modern rock, a genre that as recently as 1989 was widely thought to be more than a bit queer. The Cincinnati Enquirer’s Chris Radel wrote a December 1989 front-page Sunday Arts section feature that describes modern rock as “an unknown entity of abstruse lyrics and flighty, unconventional melodies performed by bands with names swimming in outrageousness, quirkiness, and alphabet soup” (FRR 39). “Flighty,” “outrageous,” and “quirky” (and probably also “alphabet soup”) describe acts like The B-52s, a band with out queer men and two women whose single “Love Shack” climbed to #3 on the Billboard Hot 100 earlier that year. The grunge phenomenon put bros back at the center of the format. Likewise, NIN was known for “making synths tough” and “aggressively masculine” (22). The bro-ification of alt rock didn’t start in the late 90s with the collapse of the alt rock radio bubble; the entire narrative of “alternative” (as opposed to “modern rock,” which is what the ...