The Smashing Pumpkins: El accidente de producción del video 1979

A más de tres décadas del lanzamiento de uno de los álbumes más ambiciosos del rock alternativo, The Smashing Pumpkins ha decidido abrir la cápsula del tiempo. En un nuevo episodio de la serie Vevo Footnotes lanzado este 23 de enero, Billy Corgan y la banda desglosan la creación del icónico video musical de “1979”, revelando anécdotas sorprendentes sobre la filmación, incluyendo un desastre de producción que casi borra la historia visual de la canción para siempre.

“Un adiós a mi juventud”: La inspiración de Corgan

El tema, que fue la última pista grabada para el monumental álbum doble de 1995 Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, nació de un momento de introspección adolescente de Corgan. En el clip, el líder de la banda explica el origen emocional de la canción: “Estaba atrapado en un semáforo yendo hacia la ciudad. Estaba lloviendo y veía los limpiaparabrisas ir y venir… Fue este sentimiento de ‘Estoy dejando una vida y yendo hacia esta otra’. Un adiós a mi juventud”.

El video, dirigido por el dúo Jonathan Dayton y Valerie Faris, captura la esencia del aburrimiento suburbano: un grupo de adolescentes conduciendo sin rumbo, pasando el rato en tiendas de conveniencia y fiestas caseras. Corgan confesó que buscaba una versión idealizada de la angustia adolescente: “Casi la adolescencia que deseaba haber tenido, que fuera algo despreocupada y divertida”.

El incidente de las cintas perdidas

Una de las revelaciones más impactantes del episodio es el accidente que casi destruye el proyecto. Según el relato, después de filmar la escena clave de la fiesta en la casa, un asistente de producción colocó las cintas maestras sobre el techo de su automóvil y condujo, perdiendo todo el material en el trayecto.

Las cintas originales nunca se recuperaron, lo que obligó a la banda y al equipo a regresar y volver a filmar escenas idénticas más tarde. A pesar del caos logístico, el resultado final se convirtió en un referente visual de los años 90. Curiosamente, durante la regrabación de la fiesta, la banda tocó en vivo para los extras. “Estábamos tocando cosas con las que improvisábamos y los chicos bostezaban, aburridos. Así que empezamos a tocar algunas de nuestras canciones más conocidas y la gente empezó a responder, así que casi se convirtió en este extraño mini concierto”, recordó Corgan.

El legado de una generación

El impacto del video fue tal que la banda decidió realizar una secuela visual años después con el tema “Perfect” (1998). La premisa se situaba cinco años después de los eventos de “1979” y logró reunir a cuatro de los cinco actores originales del primer video (el quinto se encontraba en la cárcel en ese momento).

“1979” no es solo una canción, es un himno que encapsula la transición hacia la madurez. Corgan concluyó el episodio con gratitud: “Haber hecho algo que ha resistido la prueba del tiempo significa mucho para la banda. Es increíblemente aleccionador ver a nuevas generaciones descubrir el álbum y formar conexiones emocionales tan profundas con él 30 años después”.

Meet the prop-maker building imaginary boyfriends

“Perfect?” is a magazine about the Barbie doll. The topic deals with the conflicting views of the popular doll as a toy. By taking pictures we visualize the surrounding where the Barbie appears and who plays with it.

Most times, ideacide happens without us even realizing it. A possible off-the-wall idea or solution appears like a blip and disappears without us even realizing. As a result, some of our best stuff is suppressed before even getting out into the world. Whether it’s because we’re too critical or because we recoil at the impending pain of change, the disruption of normalcy, self-censoring arises out of fear. Welsh novelist Sarah Waters sums it up eloquently: “Midway through writing a novel, I have regularly experienced moments of bowel-curdling terror, as I contemplate the drivel on the screen before me and see beyond it, in quick succession, the derisive reviews, the friends’ embarrassment, the failing career, the dwindling income, the repossessed house, the divorce…”

We know self-censoring by many names. Carl Jung called it our “inner critic.” Michael Ray and Rochelle Myers called it the “voice of judgment” in their classic book, Creativity in Business, based on a popular course they co-taught at Stanford University Graduate Business School. Novelist and screenwriter Steven Pressfield called it “Resistance,” writing that it is “the most toxic force on the planet” and that it is “a monster.”

 

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One touch of a red-hot stove is usually all we need to avoid that kind of discomfort in the future. The same is true as we experience the emotional sensation of stress from our first instances of social rejection or ridicule. We quickly learn to fear and thus automatically avoid potentially stressful situations of all kinds, including the most common of all: making mistakes. Researchers Robert Reinhart and Geoffrey Woodman of Vanderbilt University refer to this phenomenon as the “Oops! Response,” which is the product of the adrenaline-fueled, threat-protection system in our brain that not only governs our fight-flight-surrender response, but that also enables us to learn from our mistakes. This response is important for our ability to learn from mistakes, but it also gives rise to self-criticism, because it is part of the threat-protection system. In other words, what keeps us safe can go too far, and keep us too safe. In fact, it can trigger self-censoring.

This response is important for our ability to learn from mistakes, but it also gives rise to self-criticism, because it is part of the threat-protection system. In other words, what keeps us safe can go too far, and keep us too safe. In fact, it can trigger self-censoring.

Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time.

That immediately brought to mind one of my fondest memories, involving my daughter when she was just a toddler of one: taking her with me on the short walk to check the mail. I live in a small enclave of homes in which all the mailboxes are together in a central location, less than a minute’s walk from my front door…when I walk alone, that is. When I would take my daughter with me it was easily 20 minutes. Everything along the way, to and from, fascinated her: every pebble, ant, stick, leaf, blade of grass, and crack in the sidewalk was something to be picked up, looked at, tasted, smelled, and shaken. Everything was interesting to her. She knew nothing. I knew everything…been there, done that. She was in the moment, I was in the past. She was mindful. I was mindless.

Defaulting to Mindfulness: The Third Person Effect

Part of the answer is something psychologists refer to it as self-distancing, a term coined by researchers Ethan Kross and Ozlem Ayduk. What spurred Ethan Kross to investigate the concept in the first place was an act of mindlessness: He accidentally ran a red light. He scolded himself by saying out loud, “Ethan, you idiot!” Referring to himself in the third person made him wonder if there might be something more to this quirk of speech, and if it might represent a method for changing one’s perspective.

The short answer is yes. According to Kross, when you think of yourself as another person, it allows you give yourself more objective, helpful feedback.

Both of these assumptions, of course, could be entirely false. Self-censoring is firmly rooted in our experiences with mistakes in the past and not the present. The brain messages arising from those experiences can be deceptive. And if what our censoring self thinks it “knows” may in fact not be true, then automatically accepting it as some sort of inert truth is indeed mindless and self-defeating. Langer agrees: “When you think ‘I know’ and ‘it is,’ you have the illusion of knowing, the illusion of certainty, and then you’re mindless.” Langer argues that we must learn to look at the world in a more conditional way, versus an absolute way. Understanding that the way we are looking at things is merely one among many different ways of looking at them requires us to embrace uncertainty.