Blank Generation

To hold the TV to my lips, the air so packed with cash,
Then carry it up flights of stairs and drop it in the vacant lot,
To lose my train of thought and fall into your arms' tracks,
And watch beneath the eyelids every passing dot.

- Dick Hell

It's a tough time to want to stick it to the bad guys. Identifying whatever mainstream culture is and then going as far as possible in the opposite direction doesn't feel like it works anymore. I listen to Millennial leftists like Josh Citarella talk about the death of the subculture, and I think they might have a point. But not an impenetrable one. I went to a Show Me the Body show in Santa Cruz about a year and a half ago. They're about the only modern hardcore band I can stomach; that genre has gotten in bed far too much with heavy metal or death metal or wherever they got that fantastical scratchy screamo vocals drop-tuned guitar thing. The whole "hardcore dancing" is stupid too. A push pit is always enough to dance with emotion, you don't need to swing your arms around and kick into the air like you're one of those early YouTube videos of fat kids doing karate, back when we still thought it was funny to laugh at those poor kids.

In support of a hardcore scene that makes a lot more sense to me, I went wearing a Minor Threat tee, the cover of "Out of Step." It's a bit of an on-the-nose cover, but the music's good and the shirt is light and big, perfect for a show. The bands were pretty good. Modern hardcore music sounds a lot better live and hometown band Scowl were on before SMTB so everyone went apeshit. I had a good time and even tried out the big "run in a circle" thing they like to do around the pit. Some real tall skinny white kid with curly blond hair showed up with a white tee that read "I <3 Crowdkilling" tucked into his black jeans. I thought that was pretty funny.

After the show I looked pretty roughed up and sweaty. My hair was totally knotted up and I remember taking a few good hits that left me aching, almost stumbling. I was making my way to the exit when I turned around to look at the stage and a girl passing by looked at me and said "I love your shirt." She was pretty, I could barely get out a "Haha" before she passed and left.

Something about this interaction made me feel like there's more hope than those Millennials will lead you to believe, that subculture isn't dead at all. While I wouldn't really look at hardcore as an example of a healthy subculture (it feels more like a space defined by the lack of options), there's something to a pretty blonde girl intentionally telling a shaggy out-of-towner that she supports his taste, that she's in some way there with him on things.

I like to think about how she got into Minor Threat. As far as I can tell the 80s hardcore scene was a total boys club. Maybe she's got a dad like mine who showed me all these older bands. Maybe she also finds modern hardcore to have lost the plot. Maybe she's got posters all over her wall of people now all either dead or elderly like I do. Maybe she believes in something like I do.

The fact that it's a question means there's hope.