Fuck! I am old. Rid of Me is 20.

I was 21 when I discovered PJ Harvey. One listen and the top of my head exploded. I wanted more. PJ Harvey’s music made me feel like it was all right to be pissed off and a girl. I had just gotten out of a bad relationship with my first live in boyfriend. He’s one of the reason I moved to San Francisco. He wasn’t a bad guy, we were just bad for each other. He never really liked me. He just liked having sex with me, but he was too nice of a guy to accept that within himself. So instead, we pretended to be in love with each other. Obviously, my self-esteem wasn’t in abundance.

So, we broke up and Rid of Me became the soundtrack to the next two years of fun self-destruction involving drinks, drugs, chaos and crazy roommates. There may have been a juggler involved, but that’s another story.

Take a listen. If you don’t have Spotify, get it.