Most people will lock eyes with that iconic red album cover and immediately recognize it as “Semi-Charmed Life” or “that one album with that one suicide song.” Which it is, of course, but many don’t recognize it for what it also is: one of the best debut alternative rock albums of the 1990s. And if you’re one of those people—don’t worry, that’s what I’m here for.
Third Eye Blind’s self-titled debut came out on April 8th, 1997, starring Stephan Jenkins as lead vocalist and Kevin Cadogan on guitar. Brad Hargreaves and Arion Salazar are on drums and bass, respectively, ultimately forming the band that would come together and make the album what it is—a late 90s anthem of angst, broken hearts, filled with that signature pop-rock-post-grunge sound, dripping with crystal meth addictions and self-hatred. Even nearly 28 years later, this 57-minute-long record is an important listen for downcast teenagers (and young adults) everywhere.
The album opens with “Losing a Whole Year,” a classic example of how bad you just want to yell after a harsh, resentful breakup. It’s biting, maybe a bit sarcastic; Jenkin’s voice scratches over the sound of Cadogan’s rocking guitar solo. A whole year wasted on someone superficial, who only cares about validation: “If it's not the defense then you're on the attack / When you start talking / I hear the Prozac / Convinced you've found your place / With the pierced queer teens in cyberspace.”
Next, a personal favorite of mine, “Narcolepsy” is explosive and filled with emotional turmoil and exciting guitar solos. There is a give and take in this song between Cadogan and Jenkins—it goes in and out from loud and soft, from fiery to emotionally detached. It starts slow, bending, gentle, progressively giving way to the upset and anger that comes with feeling helpless to stop the motions of life. The speed picks up: “I read dead Russian authors, volumes at a time / I write everything down except what's on my mind / 'Cause my greatest fear is that sucking sound / And then I know that I'll never get back out.”
The song is unyielding, charging through another verse about the suffocation Jenkins feels on a regular basis. A particularly biting chunk of lyrics follows: “And there's a bone in my hand that connects to a drink / In a crowded room where the glasses clink / And I'll buy you a beer and we'll drink it deep / Because that keeps me from falling asleep.” He’s in the backseat of his life. It’s not him driving the car. It’s something darker, something he can’t control—he is a passive observer in what is unfolding in front of him. The song rounds out with the repeated verse “How’d you like to be alone and drowning?”, truly encapsulating the hopelessness he feels.
The album then jumps into its two biggest hits, “Semi-Charmed Life” and “Jumper”, both of which explore more themes of depression and drug use. “Semi-Charmed Life” juxtaposes light and bouncy sounds—dynamic and happy guitar by Cadogan with an upbeat vocal style from Jenkins, complete with its signature “do-do-dos” (influenced by Lou Reed’s “Take a Walk on the Wild Side”)—with dark, unsettling lyrics about the realities of crystal meth addiction. It’s bleak. There’s nothing to lift them up but the euphoria that comes after a hit, and nothing they can do to stop themselves.
“Jumper” was written solely by Jenkins. It references band manager Eric Godtland’s high-school friend who committed suicide due to bullying about his sexuality—although Jenkins says it was also inspired by his “alienating experiences in childhood.” He says the song is supposed to inspire more empathy and compassion for those around us.
Jumping through “Graduate”, we land on another one of the album’s most memorable tracks: “How’s It Going to Be”, a melancholic, bittersweet cut about the changes we face through a breakup. Outside of the separation itself, what’s it like once you no longer know one another? Cadogan uses an autoharp, which “you can’t really play without it having a sort of nostalgic sound to it,” as Jenkins says. Combined with soft, velvety instrumentals and picking, the lyrics convey the painful in-between of truly knowing and not knowing at all; that strange transitional period of realizing a relationship is dying and having to watch it fizzle out. “Don't see lightning like last fall / When it was always about to hit me” evokes the same sense of helplessness that permeates the entire album. He cannot control what happens, only knows he will one day burn out and exist only in someone’s memory, despite still living otherwise. “Want to get myself back in again / The soft dive of oblivion / I want to taste the salt of your skin / The soft dive of oblivion, oblivion / How's it going to be / When you don't know me anymore.”
We quickly move on through “Thanks a Lot” “Burning Man” and “Good For You,” although one track sticks out more than the others: “Burning Man,” which is my personal favorite cut on the entire album. Another song of that give and take—it goes back and forth from gentle, acoustic fingering (“The rise and fall of my sloppy love / The smatterings, and splatterings”) to charging, chaotic, electric, a one, two, three downbeat on the drums that snaps you upright: “They'll get you. / Maybe you thought I'd call / Instead of crashing down your hall.”
This “Burning Man” is likely in reference to the music festival of the same name—complete with drugs, sex, and rock n’ roll, as any good album discusses. The lyrics evoke the image of that fast-paced life and its associated burnout, combined with a quick, punchy melody. One easily overlooked element of the song is a bottle clinking in the background, perhaps adding to the element of excess, the self-destruction that comes with being a burning man. It’s a song of reckless abandonment, the surrender to catching fire and suffocating just as quickly: “Hold me down, But I'll find out. We say no / I live my life like a burning man / And I won't get enough / till my legs are broken.”
The album continues through “London” “I Want You” and “The Background,” all of which speak of this failed relationship that’s repeatedly brought up. “I Want You” is one of the slower tracks, alongside “The Background,” which delves into the reality of that quintessential breakup feeling—“The words they use so lightly, I only feel for you / I only know this because I carry you around / In the background.” It’s dreamlike. It’s bittersweet. It’s atmospheric. Jenkin’s pained vocals ring out over a scratchy, reverbed guitar from Cadogan, a slow build into a hurting, powerful confession of numbness with their signature tone of regret: “I felt you long after we were through / And the plans I make still have you in them.”
The record rounds out with two of Third Eye Blind’s most famous tracks: “Motorcycle Drive By” and “God of Wine.” Being two of the most emotionally charged songs the group ever wrote, both have their moments of soft intensity, utilizing that same gentle fingering to give way to a booming, powerful climax. They’re both haunting in their own way: “Motorcycle Drive By” providing a restless feeling, the undeniability of a relationship’s impact and how much it makes you feel. “And there's this burning / Like there's always been / I've never been so alone / And I've never been so alive.”
“God of Wine” is a different kind of haunting. It surrenders to fate. The same sense of helplessness and resignation that rings throughout every song comes to its head. Whether it relates to his relationships, drugs, or life as a whole—he surrenders to them all. “I can’t keep it all together.” Perhaps he’s talking about Dionysus—the God of wine, ritual madness, indulgence, and ecstasy—and reflecting the lack of control he feels, relinquishing his grasp on the situations he finds himself in. Cadogan’s guitar is repetitive, too, showing this cycle the narrator finds himself stuck in, the backseat he sits in while someone—or something—else drives the car. “And there's a memory of a window / Looking through I see you / Searching for something / I could never give you.”
There’s a deep sense of vulnerability across the entire album. That’s what makes it. Even if the musical elements are not complicated and hard to pull off, the push and pull between Jenkins and Cadogan creates these emotional moments; they put feelings into words that everyone has experienced at some point. It’s poetry, in many ways, different love letters between women or drugs or life itself. All in all, Third Eye Blind’s debut album is one of the best plays on self-destruction and the human experience and will live on as such for years to come.