Over the course of a few years in the mid-’90s, the Smashing Pumpkins grew from college rock buzz band to alternative rock institution. But just half a decade later, the group’s split was already a forgone conclusion to fans and critics alike. The shaping forces of mainstream acceptance had dug deep into the band’s flesh, afflicting its sound as well as its internal operations.
A devout Pumpkinhead since 1993’s Siamese Dream forever altered my understanding of what music could mean, I had followed the band through the glory days of their ambitious and commercially successful double-album Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness (still the best-selling double CD of all time) to the musically disparate, but still intimate and beautiful Adore, then on to the frustrating Machina: The Machines of God, and finally to the lost hooray, the “illegally” distributed and aptly-titled Machina II: The Friends and Enemies of Modern Music. When the announcement of the breakup came, I was chagrined, but not surprised. Mostly I looked forward to the future and imagined the treasures my favorite musicians would bestow upon me in years to come.