Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue, Punk Rock is Dumb, and So Are You (A Response To John Roderick)

If there's a better song to sum up my feelings 

on the punk scene, I've yet to hear it.

John Roderick is right.

In case you aren't aware, bearded indie dude/ex Harvey Danger singer John Roderick recently wrote a piece in Seattle Weekly entitled “Punk Rock is Bullshit,” the premise of which is entirely self-explanatory, and admittedly not incorrect. Sure, four pages on why a counter-culture started by glue sniffers and perpetuated by suburban teenagers lacks self-awareness and base with reality seems a bit much, and I think he gives punk way too much credit when he blames it for destroying the world, but at the core of his argument, Roderick is correct. Punk rock is indeed bullshit.

Alas, it wasn't always that way. Punk rock used to mean something; at least to me. During my time as an insecure college kid looking for an identity, punk rock was the most important thing in the world. I remember the first time I heard Hot Water Music like it was yesterday: Christmas Eve, 2009 – I was supposed to be watching The Muppet's Christmas Carol with my family. Instead, I was hunched over my laptop, headphones in, listening to “Kill the Night” and wondering how in the fuck anyone could make such great music. Sure, it wasn't pretty sounding, it wasn't complex, and these guys sure as hell couldn't sing, but god damn, did this music ever speak to me. Something clicked in my head, and even with the narrowest frame of reference imaginable, I knew I had found what I was looking for. Whether I knew it or not, I was destined to become a punk rocker.

If you're a kid who hates structure and values immediacy, getting into punk and hardcore is like winning the lottery. Since you have no frame of reference, every band sounds like they're from a different planet. Since you've never seen a mosh pit before, a live show seems like the closest thing to anarchy you'll experience in the first world. Best of all, since the musicians look like you, act like you, and play directly in front of you, you start to realize all you need to make something fulfilling is three friends, some gear, and a place to play. Then, you start to realize how ridiculously easy it is to become part of the scene. You want to put on a show? Find a space, find some bands, and boom, there's your show. You want to interview a band? E-mail the label, grab a voice recorder, and Bob's your uncle. Pretty soon you'll find yourself fully immersed and up to speed on both punk music and the culture that goes with it. You've done it! You're officially a member of “teh punx.” Grab your card on the way in, there's juice and cookies at the back.

Unfortunately, once you understand enough about punk to identify as one, you realize the definition is nebulous and doesn't always fit you perfectly -- identity crisis not solved. Furthermore, since familiarity breeds contempt, you start to realize maybe your little slice of collective anarchy isn't as utopian as you once thought.

Let's face it; mosh pits are a liberating experience until you realize how quickly they can devolve into structure-enforcing machismo. Mic tosses lose their luster as an exercise in humility when you hear kids brag about getting the mic after the show. Hardcore is all about unity until somebody fucks somebody else and some other asshole feels the need to have an opinion about it. Dressing the way you do is all about inclusivity and self-expression until you find yourself rooting through your closet for your “coolest” band shirt in an effort to stand out from the crowd in some imaginary pissing contest. Oh, and the music once so fresh and foreign? You start to realize a high percentage of it is actually more derivative and devoid of original thought than the shit you were listening to before (thanks in no small part to a community more interested in identifying with a distorted idea of what music should be than with music itself). In a sense, Roderick is absolutely right; punk rock is, unequivocally, complete and utter bullshit.

But here's the thing; punk rock is allowed to be bullshit, because everything else is bullshit too.

Does punk have a social hierarchy? Absolutely. Is punk easily commodified? Beyond a shadow of a doubt. Is punk catered to white males aged 16-25? Almost exclusively. But let's not pretend this type of hypocrisy is exclusive to punk. The first foundation of rave culture's PLUR mission statement, peace, is in direct contrast with how its' beloved club drugs are distributed. Hip-Hop's misappropriation of consumerism as cultural empowerment does more to perpetuate racism than any hate group could ever hope to. Any youth culture – or culture in general – is bullshit when you look at it as a monolith, but that's only because cultures are not monolithic. Just because a culture doesn't always (or often) adhere to the ideas it supposedly stands for, doesn't mean those ideas are invalid, or even lost on the people who identify as part of the culture. Punk rock is no exception.

Perhaps the biggest downfall of punk is that it believes it can save the world – and though Roderick now sneers at the idea, it's pretty obvious he once held this pipe dream close to his heart. Yet if punk rock couldn't defeat Reaganism, it was certainly never capable of freeing youth culture from the trappings of youth – and getting angry at it for failing to do so is just as irrational as believing it will. All punk does is teach hyperactive kids to make structure from chaos and community from individualism, and that's all it needs to do. DIY is obviously not a “punk” idea, but when you're a 17 year-old with no start-up capital for your muffin store, a punk band is a great place to cut your teeth. Message board bickering about feminism is obviously derivative and ego-driven, but if you've never been exposed to the idea, it's a good place to start learning. The scene is obviously dictated by stupidity, self-consciousness, and sexual politics, but if you're too tied up in that shit to get something out of it, that's on you, not the scene.

Of course punk rock is bullshit; everyone with half a brain knows that. Yet in a world chock-full of fraudulent garbage, it's supremely rewarding to find the bullshit that makes most sense to you. For me, that bullshit is punk rock, which makes punk as real to me as any stupid bullshit is gonna get.

TILT: Masked Intruder- Masked Intruder (1/22/13)

Artist: Masked Intruder
Album: Masked Intruder
Label: Red Scare (2012)
Key Jams: "25 to Life", "Heart Shaped Guitar", "Stick 'Em Up"

The Skinny: Masked Intruder are a pop-punk band who blend Ramones-core with elements of doo-wop and whatever the fuck you wanna call the Grease soundtrack. The premise of the band is that they're love-lorn petty criminals who are equally unsuccessful with the ladies and the legal system. Anonymity is part of the shtick, so they all wear masks on stage and talk in fake Queen's accents. If that sounds goofy to you, don't worry-- I'm pretty sure that's the point.

Pros: Melodies are catchy as fuck, lyrics contain plenty of hilarious one-liners, 50's shtick is done well.
Cons: Lyrical subject matter gets grating quickly, standard issue pop-punk with funny gimmick.

The Verdict: Worth a listen, not worth the hype.

I saw these dudes play with Teenage Bottlerocket months ago and they were pretty impressive, but for whatever reason I didn't listen to them on record until recently. I don't usually go for "gimmick" bands, but these guys do their thing well enough that it isn't immediately dismiss-able. If the singer was born in a different era, he could have made young women swoon with his coy crooning and impeccable sense of melody, but I guess he'll just have to settle for making beardos laugh with his sharp one-liners instead.

Unfortunately, no amount of catchy melodies or hilarious jokes can really save 13 songs about essentially the same thing from getting monotonous by the end. I wish they'd included more fast songs about petty crimes (a la "Stick 'Em Up) because you can only listen to so many crooning ballads about a pathetic dude breaking into a girl's house before it starts to get a little weird. I dunno, it's usually hard for me to make it through an entire pop-punk album without getting bored due to the lack of variety in the music, and this album is no exception. When Masked Intruder is on point, it's really on point (the song "Heart Shaped Guitar" is done particularly well) but a lot of it is also forgettable. Maybe people who are really into this kind of music can appreciate the album a lot more, but I just don't get the hype surrounding it.

TILT: Rescuer- With Time Comes the Comfort (1/21/13)

Artist: Rescuer
Album: With Time Comes the Comfort
Label: Rise Records (2013)
Key Jams: "Shame", "Locked Inside"

The Skinny: Rescuer are a "melodic hardcore" band from Tampa, Florida. Their press releases describes them as (I'm paraphrasing here) "reminiscent of early 2000's screamo like Silverstein, but with the passion and drive of bands like Envy and Pg. 99." However, I feel like that description is both inaccurate and cringeworthy, so I came up with my own: "Rescuer sounds like a cross between Pianos Become the Teeth and Modern Life is War, played by dudes who are definitely still into Rise-core, but don't want to admit it for fear of losing punk points." This is their first full length.

Pros: Really unique amalgamation of "tr00" hardcore with elements of whatever you call For the Fallen Dreams, etc.
Cons: Songs get a little boring/formulaic at times, very heavily indebted to its influences.

The Verdict: Quite a pleasant surprise.

To be honest, when I first read Rescuer's description on Punknews I threw up in my mouth a little bit; but in the name of journalistic objectivity, I figured I'd give them a shot anyways. I'm glad I did, because With Time Comes the Comfort is worth a listen or two. If I may speculate on the band's formation for a moment -- I wouldn't be surprised to hear these dudes were in swoop-haired bands together like two years ago, until one of the guitarists heard Travels, decided he'd seen the light, and recruited four of the most competent musicians he could find to start a "serious hardcore band." I say this because, despite the Rescuer's best efforts, With Time... has undeniable structural parallels to Rise-core. (Let's get real here guys, those "atmospheric" parts are way more reminiscent of Like Moths to Flames than Pianos Become the Teeth.)

That ain't no dis though. In fact, I think this album would have benefited on more than one occasion from some clean singing/heavy ass breakdowns to stir up the monotony of "youth-crew beat into melodic noodling" formula they have a tendency to rely on when they're out of ideas. Still, when these dudes show their true colours they have the ability to create some pretty interesting music, and I wouldn't be surprised if With Time... makes it into my listening rotation. Furthermore, I look forward to hearing the record Rescuer makes in a year when they realize the dudes on the B9 board pose just as hard as the scene kids they've turned their backs on.

Gorilla Biscuits = Emmure: A Stream of Conscious Rant About Metalcore

Since I've spent time ripping on metalcore today, I thought I'd show you people a fair and balanced approach in my music snobbery. Here's something I wrote as a stream of conscious rant one night after I'd seen some hardcore kids shit-talking some Rise Records band on the internet. I used to be one of those douchebags who stuck his nose up at metalcore for being "untr00" or whatever, but then I turned 11 and realized it wasn't such a big deal anymore. Sure, I still think a lot of metalcore is boring and derivative, but so is a lot of hardcore. So yeah. Whatever. Just read it...

Hate all you want; it's still a #jam

So I recently got kicked out of my metalcore band. Well maybe kicked out isn’t the right word, we mutually decided that I wasn’t the best fit, because I’m not big on metalcore. They wanted somebody who could run with the direction they were going, and I wanted to do something that was more emotionally fulfilling to me, so we parted ways. I learned a lot being in that band, and I feel that perhaps the most important lesson was that I should stop looking at metalcore with disdain and start looking at is as a difference in opinion.

I basically look at metalcore the same way I feel my normal friends look at the music I listen to. I can stomach it, I understand some of the references, there are even some parts I enjoy; however the self-referential nature of it makes it impossible to grasp completely because I wasn’t brought into that scene before I became too old to justify spending my time trying to crack some subculture code just so I could fit in (which is essentially how I got into punk and hardcore). I compare the current state of that scene to Hardcore circa 1987 – the market is oversaturated to a point where the voices of the legitimate artists have been drowned out by shitheads simply due the fact that if you throw a lot of people into a room, most of them will be idiots by default.

But here’s the thing – that doesn’t mean the metalcore scene has an absence of legitimate artists. In fact, since that route seems to be the new entry point into the underground, I bet a lot of the next wave of good underground music will come from kids who listened to emmure, much in the same way so many of our favourite bands were introduced to the scene by Thursday or Rancid or The Killers or whatever “untr00 bullshit” it was cool to rip on in 2002. What I can’t wait for is to see 20 years down the road when the same insufferable poser-types who pretend to like Gorilla Biscuits now will be jocking Emmure while ferociously picking apart the “nu-metalcore” of the day, whatever that may be (completely failing to mention the fact that they loved those “shitty” bands a mere six months earlier).

Shit, didn’t emo and screamo take a beating ten years ago from hardcore “purists”? Now all of a sudden we have like a million basement skrammers and kinesella tribute acts because a decade later somebody finally had the balls to admit they enjoyed that shit when it came out. Now, queue the revival scene; queue the entrance of seventeen year olds; queue the tailspin into the self-reference pit; queue the “tr00 kvlt purists” dismissing the entire scene while untagging pictures of themselves wearing a La Dispute shirt from facebook – fuck, do you people not notice a pattern here? Whatever; every time I try and make sense of the hardcore scene I end up pushing myself one step closer to an aneurism, so I’m not gonna do that anymore tonight. I’m just gonna listen to La Dispute on my iPod then go to bed. Fuck you.

TILT: The Plot in You- Could You Watch Your Children Burn (1/18/13)

Artist: The Plot in You

Album: Could You Watch Your Children Burn

Label: Rise (2013)

Key Jams: "Shyann Weeps"

The Skinny: The Plot in You are a Rise Records metalcore band from Ohio. That last sentence doubles as both a band bio and description of their sound. They aren't extremely heavy, but they aren't one of those Jonny Craig bands either; they kind of find that middle ground between chuggishness and clean parts. Could You Watch Your Children Burn (no question mark?) is their second full length album. According to Wikipedia, the band's singer plays all the instruments (except the drums) on the record.

Pros: Cool riffs, well produced, not a lot of boring ass chugging, lyrics are good for a few laughs.

Cons: Not a whole lot of structure going on here, this guy might be a serial killer.

The Verdict: Hmmm...

Let me preface this by saying after playing in a metalcore band, I've come to appreciate this kind of music when it's done well. Unfortunately, this is not done well. Somebody needs to sit down with these dudes (this dude?) and explain to them the importance of song structure, because apparently they missed that part of "Being a Musician 101." The first five songs sound like the band rehearsing by playing a bunch of unrelated riffs in succession. Also, it's a good thing I have no intention of ever moving to Findlay, Ohio, because judging by the lyrics the singer is the kind of guy who would call his exes' new dude at three in the morning crying and pleading with him to "treat her better than I did, maaaan..." before killing a squirrel and sending it to him in the mail. 

All that being said, the producer must have busted some Adderal into the studio when they were recording the end of the album, because a couple of the later tracks are worth a listen. My favourite is "Shyann Weeps"; The lyrics are goofy as fuck, but the song has traces of discernable structure, which is nice. Selling point: the white nerd version of the "Hit 'Em Up" call-out at the end: "fuck you/fuck your family/fuck any of your friends/and fuck your dumb tattoos." Fucking classic.

TILT: Kendrick Lamar- good kid, m.A.A.d city (1/16/13)

Artist: Kendrick Lamar

Album: good kid, m.A.A.d city

Label: Aftermath/Interscope (2012)

Key Jams: "Bitch, Don't Kill My Vibe", "Sing For Me/Dying of Thirst"

The Skinny: On GKMC, Kendrick Lamar tells the story of LA's most infamous suburb through the eyes of a sometimes shady but ultimately well meaning young man, highlighting the dizzying heights of street life as a means of underpinning his reflections on it's sobering realities. The smooth, soulful beats and Lamar's penchant for creative flows reminds me a lot of Aquemeni era Outkast, but with a distinctly modern edge to it. 

Pros: Creative lyricism, surprisingly experimental for a major label rap record, those fucking beats, maaaan!

Cons: Songs have a tendency to get too long/weird.

Verdict: Would recommend to anyone slightly interested in rap music.

This is easily the best new rap record I've heard in a long time. That may be because the only new rap music I've heard is either of the Two Chainz "radio thug" variety, or that incomprehensible gibberish hardcore kids pretend to like (*coughwakaflockaflamecough*), but I digress. Lamar's versatility on GKMC is outstanding -- "Bitch, Don't Kill My Vibe", "Backseat Freestyle" and "The Art of Peer Pressure" couldn't be much different from each other stylistically, yet somehow the three don't sound out of place on the same album, let alone back to back to back. I also love the beats, but that might be 'cause Aquemeni is mah favrite cd that I play in mah crib. The only flaw I can find is that sometimes the songs run on for too long, or go off on these weird tangents that don't necessarily add anything to them. However, that's to be expected from a young artist finding his groove, and more often then not, when Lamar steps outside his comfort zone the results are promising. As long as he can stay grounded and continues to work on his trade, Kendrick Lamar will be a name to watch in hip-hop.

What I learned (or failed to learn) at Sandy Hook P.S.

I once had a faint glimmer of hope for a silver lining in the wake of the Newtown school shooting.

For a while there, it looked like something was about to happen. Remember the frustration in Obama's voice when he gave that speech in the high school auditorium and spoke about how something needed to change in the American social landscape? It wasn't the loud, "this will no longer be tolerated" frustration that comes with feigned outrage, more the "parent meets arresting officer" kind. The one where you're so crushed with disappointment you can't even process what the hell just happened.

For me, that was a genuine moment -- it was exactly the way I felt. It was the way we all felt. How else are you supposed to react to the news that a regular looking dude, in a regular American suburb, went into a regular American public school and killed 20 regular American children, in cold blood, two weeks before Christmas? For a brief moment, nobody was "pissed off and not going to take it anymore;" nobody had all the answers; nobody was distractd by the best MNF game of the entire season -- we were sitting in our living room, stunned and disappointed at how something like this could happen in a society where it had no reason to happen.

Yet oddly enough, there was a cautious optimism that snuggled its way into my cozy living room on that cold December night. For some reason, I genuinely believed in the wake of unspeakable tragedy, we as a people were perhaps ready to put away our petty grievances and finally have a reasonable discussion about contentious yet pressing issues like mental health and firearms legislation. I smiled -- as I witnessed the '49ers thwart a Tom Brady comeback to beat the Patriots, it seemed everything was right with the world. I went to bed that night with a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach.

Maybe things were finally going to change.

Well, it's been a month. Where are we now? Let's see... my living room is freezing, the Patriots are favoured to win the AFC Championship, and the international Sandy Hook discussion has devolved into a gun control debate between Midwestern PTA moms who will never see a gun in real life (yet think they're somehow qualified to legislate gun specs based on how scary they sound), and crazed rednecks whose superiority complexes are so uncontrollable they've deluded themselves into believing guns weren't designed for the sole purpose of killing things.

One thing hasn't changed, however; there's still cause to be heartbreaking-ly disappointed in our society. That's where I'm at right now; I'm President Obama giving that speech in the high school auditorium. I'm your mom after you come home in handcuffs, covered in puke. I'm your super-sweet girlfriend who will have another shitty Valentine's day because you put your rent money on black again. I feel let down. I have so many questions I don't even know where to begin:

Like, "how do we continue to ignore the overwhelming absence of support for people with mental health issues and their families?"

Or, "is it not clear to everyone that people like Adam Lanza aren't in the right frame of mind to be wandering around the streets like the rest of us without some sort of professional help?"

I could go on for hours:

Does it ever occur to anyone that violent video games and a lack of spankings haven't turned the vast, VAST majority of our generation into school shooters, and instead maybe, just maaaaaybe, there's something wrong with these people's brains that makes them do fucked up shit?

Does it not make more sense to deal with somebody who displays violent tendencies before they commit a crime instead of throwing them in prison after the damage has been done?

Do people actually think these violent criminals are "losers who snap one day" and there were no signs to suggest the capability of deranged, violent behaviour?

Doesn't it seem a little ironic that school boards are spending so much money on security, when the vast majority of people affected by gun violence are introduced to it not by catastrophic acts of violence, but through a lifestyle associated with a lack of education and subsequent poverty?


How can the NRA continually act in the most cruel, ignorant, insensitive manner at the least appropriate times and still have a growing member base?

How can CNN continually give the NRA and other groups like them a platform to spew their deranged, tin-foil hat theories in the wake of such gut wrenching tragedies?


Does it never occur to anyone that assault rifles and handguns aren't the only way to kill people?

Does it never occur to anyone that assault rifles and handguns are designed specifically for killing people and therefore it might be a good idea to have a licensing system/background check/holding period to screen people before they buy one off the shelf at their friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart? 

Like shit, I don't even know. I don't have any answers, and since nobody seems to be interested in having a civil discussion about this whole incident, I don't think I ever will. The only thing we've learned from Sandy Hook P.S. is that we're not in any position to have a mature discussion about anything, any time soon. Oddly enough, I'm fine with that -- if a mentally unstable man killing two dozen women and children in a Connecticut public school doesn't get us to engage each other in a civil, respectful manner, I have no fucking desire to find out what will.

So, I'm done. I'm not angry anymore; I understand how this works, Society. We're different people -- you're not going to change and that's fine. I'm not going punch holes in the drywall, I'm not going to throw your shit on the lawn, and I'm not going to call dudes you hang out with and leave angry voice-mails at three in the morning. I'm taking my stuff and I'm gonna go chill at my parents place for a couple of weeks. Don't call me, I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Good bye.