Hi, my name's Megan, and I'm an addict.

My vice is my past—I still love bands that I loved with I was 16 years old, and no amount of rehab in the world could ever make me stop listening to Cheshire Cat.

That's a confusing problem.

I know some of the crap that I was once obsessed with isn't necessarily the best music ever, but despite their lack of innovation, I still rock Face to Face, Less Than Jake, Bad Religion, Green Day, Rancid, NOFX, Blink-182, hell, even a little Saves the Day, because I love revisiting the feeling that this music will save me. It's the music that made my adolescence and early 20s the best fucking years of my life (so far), and as much as I love all of them, not one of those artists has released an album in the past five years that I'm not embarrassed to like. (1. Assuming I'm even capable of liking it, and 2. With the exception of Green Day.)

Case in point: Lifetime. No one was happier than I when I heard the news that Lifetime was reuniting. Jersey's Best Dancers and Hello Bastards have been the melodic hardcore soundtrack to many long drives with friends and late-night skate sessions in empty parking lots.

I never had the chance to see them before they disbanded in the late '90s, so in January of 2006 I flew to San Francisco for their reunion show at Slim's. Holy shit, it was amazing. The band was as tight as Lifetime can be (their fast-paced sloppiness is part of what makes them so great, after all), and they played just about every song in their catalog, including B-sides "Star 69" and "Somewhere in the Swamps of New Jersey."

I was up front, moshing, finger-pointing, getting thrashed around and sweaty. I was 25 years old but felt 17. I was glowing days after.

The band released a new self-titled album earlier this year. After hearing it, my initial thought was, "Why bother with new material?" It's more of what it was in 1997 except now I'm totally not 17 and these songs feel contrived. They did nothing for me, and I wondered if they even really did anything for the band.

Then the most obvious realization hit me: I might not be 17 any more, but someone is. And someone needs now exactly what I needed then. So did Lifetime have to make that record? Not for me, no. They had to make it for that kid who'll be in the front row at El Corazón this Saturday, who has no idea what kind of band they were 10 years ago, and probably doesn't care. And I'll be there next to him, singing along. But I'll let him take the mic for the new shit.

Lifetime play El Corazón Sat Sept 8, 8 pm, $12 adv/$15 DOS, all ages.