On Halloween
of 1994, I went to a show that my friend, Matt Nurge, urged
me into. There's a place in Sacto called The Loft.
It's on an alley and they feature great shows free of charge.
The environment is positive and bands can play without the
bullshit of a big production. (If your town doesn't have one
of these, create one.) When we got there, it was just like
the old days. Punks in the parking lot milling around in the
beautiful darkness of a sweet Sacramento autumn night. I became
excited, feeling all those old feelings of puberty and angst.
We walked up the stairway to punkrock heaven to find the Dead
Kennedy's playing. Well, actually, bands such as the Popesmashers
were mimicking their favorite punk legends for the occasion-live!
Cool idea. Seeing these punk impersonators was fun and caused
me to realize just how incredibly brilliant the real Dead
Kennedy's were. I was looking at the crowd and I felt sad
seeing the drifting eyes of kids just looking for a good time.
But, having a good time in the punk arena still has initiation
rites and a dress code. Only this time, Macy's and Nordstrom
can provide your prerequisite punkwear. It seemed that not
much had changed since I hung out in the scene except there
were crazier fuckers when I hung out. It was sad to see a
scene imitating a scene that was already imitating a scene.
After digging the pseudo DK's, I went downstairs to put Heckler
in the Hindenburg Record Store, a rad indie co-op type outlet.
I was told to knock on a door because the shop would be open
between bands. I knocked.
"Who
the hell is it?" shouted a man-voice.
"It's a paying customer," I said in a sloppy voice.
"Go away!" he replied.
"I'm a paying customer with a punk rock attitude," I said
in a smarty voice.
"Fuck You, you fuckin poseur!" was his response. A moment of silence.
A moment of contemplation.
"I have some free Heckler Magazines to put in the record store,"
I
said very cool and relaxed.
"Go away, you fascist! We don't want your propaganda."
"What, you don't like porno?"
"Leave, you fuckin' fascist!"
"I have free mags. Your ad is in it," I tried to reason.
"You're a loser," he said.
"You're a winner," I replied.
He screamed, "Get outta here!!" and kicked the other side
of the
locked door like a real man.
Frustrated
with his brilliance, I went and sat in the parking lot on
my stack of Hecklers. A couple of different people asked for
them from under my butt and I was cheered up to see them excited
when they realized it was a new Heckler. Later, my friend
Scott opened up the shop and put the zines on the table of
free stuff without some false political power battle behind
closed doors. What are you rebelling against? Do you think
you're fighting the "fascist government" by not helping a
zine get distributed? Do you know the meaning of fascist?
My point is that the punk scene is and has been one of the
most conservative scenes I've ever experienced. Vibes run
deep if your hair is not right, the clothes aren't core or
your record collection isn't pure, and I can attest to that
straight from the source. At the dawn of the "crossover" era
(around 1983) when I was hanging out, looks and appearance
had begun to define everything from the sound of a band to
the attitude of lifestyle. It was seeming that you couldn't
just wear something for the sake of being dressed anymore.
Whatever you sported identified you with a certain group,
gang or clique. Without a self identity, you too could cling
to a scene and be called a name like "punk", "metalhead",
"skin", "skater" and now "snowboarder". The ideal of originality
and individualism was missing like a child on the side of
a milk carton. Enter 1995.
Is it
also fading on the mountains today? Does fighting the skiiers
make you punk to the core-snowboard ruler? Does intimidation
of new-comers play a role in your style and technique on and
off the lift? Are the youth of today condemned to repeat the
same stupid cycle of yesterday or will someone help spur a
movement towards (r)evolution? Places like The Loft and the
Hindenburg are too fucking rad to become a tight-knit boarding
school of punk style and discipline. I love punk rock and
I am down with the cause for individuality. I am merely suggesting
that if you sing the lyrics of rebellion and anarchy, then
live it. Otherwise, come from the heart and create your own
identity. Imitations never last because the real thing is
always better. You will find peace of mind if you let your
true self expression out. That is a fuckin' rebellion, kiddies.
Try it and tell me which is tougher, expressing your true
self or imitating the imitators of ten years past. And try
a little acceptance of those that don't quite fit into the
pre-packaged mold. Then, alliances can be made and utilized.
Encourage yourself to adopt your own style and others to adopt
theirs. I think places like the Loft are perfect for true
artistic expressions to bloom. Don't squeeze out the ones
that aren't Punk to the Core. You may find that they are the
ones that are more punk than you will ever be.
