-Michael Roffman, Editor-in-Chief

By now, every music news outlet has reported that Smashing Pumpkins drummer Jimmy Chamberlain has left the band that made him famous. Billy Corgan remains mum on the news, but it’s more likely than not the egocentric front man played a [significant] role in the decision. This calls into question an interesting idea. The 1990s are dead, and gone. They aren’t coming back. For some reason, several bands from that era [and eras prior] insist on popping up once again, making records, and touring our cities.

Why is this necessary?

Sure, I was excited as anyone else when Zeitgeist hit record stores (Oh, wait, it’s not the ’90s anymore), er, iTunes. But the drivel the record wound up producing hardly proved its worth. It’s not just Corgan’s fault, though. Guns N’ Roses released Chinese Democracy last year to a whirlwind of anticipation. What did we get? A decent record concocted by a slew of musicians who may have been in diapers when Axl Rose first got his appetite for creation.

As we near the end of this millennium’s first decade, and look back on what we’ve already been subjected to in this infant era, it’s impossible not to notice how “hot” a trend reuniting has become. Think about it. Rage Against the Machine. Motley Crue. The f*&#ing Eagles. The list grows longer with each dismembered band’s need for cash. Or is it acclaim? Or do they actually miss each other?

When The Pixies toured in 2004/05, there were legions of fans lining up to see their aging heroes reproduce the urgently shed tunes that reinvigorated the ethos of ’80s college rock merging with the bombastic, celebratory cynicism and indifference of the ’90s. What they got were semi-decent rock shows put on by four individuals who looked like they had just dropped off their youngsters at soccer practice. Don’t get me wrong, Frank Black is a hero, but bringing his most popular band back to the forefront wasn’t the best idea.

At least the Pixies knew when to quit, though (sort of). The Smashing Pumpkins are in dangerous territory. If Corgan keeps this up, he will have thrust a half a dozen throw-together records at us by 2013, and his legacy (as well as that of the original Pumpkins—no longer intact) will be a shriveled up memory of distorted, fuzzed out empty promises.

Whichever the case, Jimmy Chamberlain is probably very excited to finally be free of Corgan’s wrath. I’ve never met the beatifically bald guitar slinger, nor do I plan to. But one thing is certain: the man gets what he wants, and if he wants to make another Pumpkins record by himself, so be it. It’s a far less necessary happening than Kittens Ablaze’s looming summer tour. Or, The Dead Weather’s ensuing album release. Or… well, several hundred musical occurrences that will happen between now and Lollapalooza.

We’ll just learn to ignore it, sort of like how we’ve omitted The Godfather III from our film collections (despite them packaging it as a “trilogy”) or anything George Lucas has touched post-1990. Although if Corgan continues to plunder the name for too long, it might be hard to pick up Gish or Siamese Dream without that funeral-like dread…although, on second thought, that’s sort of how it feels like now.

Ciao.

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