August 17, 2008

the punk rock

One day I was to find out that patches on your clothing were to represent the “crust core” punks. If you liked stuff on Lookout Records then you really weren’t supposed to put patches on your clothes. Likewise, if you were a fan of the fast and heavy guitar with screaming lyrics of the Slug & Lettuce variety then you weren’t to wear much plaid or anything in the way of color (red being the obvious exception to the ‘no color’ rule). Leather was out if you sided with the crust/peace/noise/hard-core bands of the Profane Existence crowd. Political and social activism was held with little regard when it came to the pop punk folks. One side said you were too emo and not hardcore enough if you didn’t tattoo an anarchy sign on yourself, the other side said you were too serious and real fucking bummer to hang out with if you did.

Suddenly I was a misfit among misfits. Socially awkward and a thousand miles away from friends in the scene I slowly dropped the punk motif. I was living on a military base and blending in there seemed more important than trying to uphold some idealism of the punk rock variety. Sure the government was corrupted — it’s goals in total opposition to my beliefs, which sucked... but so did getting my ass kicked for displaying my disdain.

I was okay with all of this though. I didn’t fit on either (any?) side of the punk rock “supposed to” battle line. I wasn’t supposed to dress like a crust punk cuz I mostly liked pop punk. I wasn’t supposed to believe in class war and social change because I bought Mr. T Experience CDs. (I KNOW! CDs OF ALL THINGS! SELLOUT!!) I was a poseur to both scenes. And with ‘alternative’ music still very popular their was little room with the cool kids for anyone who seemed to be faking it.

Maybe I really was faking it all along. It feels that way until I go to a show with a bunch of really great friends from “back in the day” (for me this is summer of 1995). I realize that I may not know any of the bands anyone is talking about post ‘96, but it doesn’t matter. I can (pretty much) still be friends. I still have a minor degree of street cred even if I haven’t waived any real punk flags in over 10 years. That’s kinda nice. And now I’m old enough to know that it matters not in the very least what style of clothes one is wearing to determine how “hardcore” one is. In fact, odds are good that the movers and shakers of the scene are the guys and gals who look the most normal.

posted @ 7:14 AM

« maybe i'm just not cool enough | home | the good times are killing us »