Cassie Tolhurst

ENGL-2250-002
Memoir

Crush, Like Madonna

I was in an all-girl band.
In the sixth grade my two best girlfriends and I decided to start our very own band. Of course none of
us knew anything about music or recording, let alone how to sing. We came up with the idea to record our
debut album on a cassette tape and sell it to raise money at our school store. Honestly, I would compare us
to the Spice Girls, we didnt play any instruments and rarely sang on key.
We named ourselves Crush, one simple but elementarily powerful word. We were like Madonna, but
there were three of us girls instead of one. I can still revive memories of our first practice. The smell of
homemade cookies. Crumbs decorated my grandmothers thick floral canvas couch, papers scattered, gel
pens ready, headbands in position, young eyes attentive, and brains alight with creativity. We grasped for
lyrics, pulling inspiration from things we knew. Like love. I always found that to be ironic. At the ripe tender
age of 11 the only interest I had in boys was Lance from Nsync, Ive always had skill for picking the gay ones.
But listening to Britney, Aaron Carter, and the Backstreet Boys made me feel like I knew what love
was. So we wrote about relationships, and finding the true meaning of love, romance, heartbreak and
passion. Which admittedly, twelve years later I still dont know.
Jessica, one of the girls in the group, had been my very best friend since the 2
nd
grade. We were
always the unlikely pair. I was tall, blonde, and loud while she was short brunette and quiet. I always thought
we were the perfect yin and yang. We bonded over many nights of board games, secret telling, and jellybean
eating. Sarah was the other girl in the group. I was never really too fond of Sarah, but Jessica liked her so I
had to too.
Sarah with her straight hair and retainerd teeth and I were what you might call frenemies. We
often hung out at class and recess but she was without a doubt the Kelly Rowland to my Beyonc. The three
of us elementary school misfits formed our very own version TLC and we were on the cusp of our journey
chasing waterfalls.
We needed an album cover. My grandmother was an eager photographer, she was always quick to
help me with whatever project I wanted to tackle at that time. We ratted our hair, put on clothes that flared
and showed our midriff. The pink lipstick, glitter eye shadow and cheap high heels 4 sizes to big seemed to
get us that much closer to those we saw on MTV.
We stared at the printer as our faces appeared on the page before us. Our crimped hair and my
purple bejeweled jean jacket and pant set looked perfect. We cut out our photos and taped them on to the
front of our craft paper album cover. It read Crush, Cassie Jessica and Sarah. We argued over how the
names should be organized. Mine came first, alphabetical order worked in my favor this time- sorry Sarah.
Back again to those cookie filled practices, we wrote a couple songs with predictable cheesy rhyming
schemes and riffs that we couldnt do, let alone in harmony.
When I saw you standing there, I knew we were meant to be.
Oh, we were meant to be, youre all I could see.
Id cross an ocean for you,
There isnt anything I wouldnt do for you, my dear.
OH LET ME COME NEAR.
Yes, those are actual lyrics. While writing them we imagined a room filled sunset light and purple
smoke and two lovers looking off in the distance, the music video played in our head as we transcribed the
words on to paper. Then my filled Lisa Frank journal let us know it was time to take our hard work to the
studio.
We piled into the bathroom for better acoustics and we made our very own demo tape. Jessica and
Sarah sat on the lid of the toilet while I was forced into the corner by the shower. I shot an angry look at her,
and made sure that my voice resonated the loudest. Of course we only sang to the pre-recorded beats on my
fake electric drum set, but we were so proud huddling around our single chorded microphone. We recorded
a few of our original songs, a cover, and even included a blooper reel that was indiscernible over our loud
giggling.
After our brief time in the studio we were rushed into production because of the impending
deadline of the school store. We expected a great turnout so we made thirty copies of our sure to be
platinum cassette tape. We nestled them proudly between some knitted caps and birdhouses that the other
kids in our grade had made. Our tape was obviously head and shoulders above the rest of the knickknacks
and handmade goods our peers had brought. We were poised and ready for fame.
After the store had come to a close and each of us had done our shift at the till box cash register- we
held our breath to see if our album had gone platinum. We imagined the other students asking for our
autographs, our songs being played over the intercom before the morning announcements, and our picture
in the local paper. The headline would read, Crush: The next big thing.
Turns out, we sold four. Three to our parents and one to some admiring fan. We were a little
crushed, but our woes soon subsided at the promise of a trip to the local skating rink. Due to some
irreconcilable differences our band broke up, as bands do from time to time whether it was drugs, money,
creative differences or the fact that I was the only one who needed to wear a bra.
You wont find us on MTV or even youtube but if you ever come across an old tape made in my
basement bathroom with three pre-teen girls on the cover, save it- you never know how much it will be
worth someday.
And to our one anonymous fan, there isnt word of a Crush reunion yet, but if the time ever comes
youll get front row center.