The first indie rock show that I ever went to was Tsunami, with Franklin and Edsel opening, in the basement of an anonymous building at the University of Maryland. Or at least that’s the first that I can remember; I may have forgotten one or be repressing the thoughts of something that my modern self finds embarassing (although after some cajolling and with a few drinks under my belt I’m willing to admit that I went to see Rush with Mr. Big opening while I was in high school, so the embarassment bar must be set pretty high). So that’s my seminal indie rock show, just as Superchunk‘s No Pocky for Kitty was my very first indie rock album. Tsunami was intricately tied to the DC/Arlington pop scene and to Simple Machines Records, whose "Mechanics Guide to Putting Out Records, Cassettes, and CDs" probably did as much as MRR‘s Book Your Own Fuckin’ Life to foster the "Hey kids, let’s put on a show!" ethos of early- to mid-Nineties indie rock. Jenny Toomey of Tsunami was unfailingly nice to 16-year-old me, even when she probably shouldn’t have been; she let me interview her via email for the zine I did in high school, and there’s a direct line between my flailing away with a Xerox machine and a glue stick and the writing I’m doing now. Jenny’s been doing some thinking about the future of music (of the indie variety) in a post-Napster age, and she’s finally gotten herself a website. The nostalgia mills are recycling all kinds of things — hair metal bands, say — that should have been left buried, but Jenny is someone I’m thrilled to see resurface. It’s a shame I’ve haven’t been keeping an eye out, because I bet she never left. None