Punk music and hardcore are difficult subjects to discuss reasonably. Talking with fans of these genres requires you to begin by defining your terms, which will always vary, and the result is the realization that very few of the avid punk listeners are actually well versed in punk music. But just as the punk world is quick to reject bands that seemingly should be embraced by them, from Husker Du to Ted Leo, the current landscape of music criticism is populated by writers that are knowledgeable of the roots of punk music but make an equal disregard for the contemporary raw, reckless and bleach-blond sounds of the suburbs.
This stand-off, of sorts, made me want to go to a punk show. For the past year I have been covering music and throughout I have had this itching to write about and/or photograph an old fashioned, semi-scary punk show. This was easier said than done, as it is more courageous than you think to take a camera that is more valuable than some of the attendees automobiles into a club where mobility is a major issue and booze flows freely. Well, I mean, they charge, but you get it. But anyway, The Bouncing Souls shouldn’t attract a rough crowd, right? Though never really breaking through to mainstream consciousness, their sound is lighter and more pop-based than hardcore. And that logic might have held with a different supporting band, but in Anaheim they were playing with The Adolescents, one of the trailblazers of the original hardcore movement and about as local as you can get. And though it became clear within ten minutes or so of arriving that I would not be having much fun, though it certainly proved memorable.
If you, like me, haven’t been to a punk show since the Bush administration, or perhaps even the Reagan administration, well, not a whole lot has changed. The fashion is nearly identical that of the early 80’s, when The Adolescents first formed out of former members of Agent Orange (Tony Soto, also of local heroes Manic Hispanic) and Social Distortion (Frank Agnew) and became pioneers of a new genre of punk that would be dubbed hardcore. Pat Smear, long before his Nirvana and Foo Fighter days, has a short stint in the band’s early days. If you were to talk to someone today who claims to like hardcore and you brought up Black Flag or Minor Threat or even The Adolescents, chances are you would be having two different conversations. Hardcore has become less about a social statement and more about growls, but remarkably, the same fashion bleeds to all realms of punk and has gone unaltered throughout its history.
Unless, that is, if you are in a punk band. It seems like you just don’t have to try to look cool at a certain point, you imagine these men wearing socks underneath sandals and sweatpants to family functions. The Adolescents singer Tony Cadena looked like your uncle your uncle during the Sunday night game on one of his all-day-on-the-couch runs. But the crowd embraced them as the legends they are, as the older veterans of the scene slammed bodies into teenagers, bodies cam hurling over the guard rail of the photo pit, and beer and water sailed into the air without regard for much beyond the sight and feeling it created. It was a blast for everyone. Everyone, that is, except the 130 pound guy with a camera.
Shy of the usual three song time allotment, security cleared the three photographers away from the front of the stage and dumped us into a crevice, kind of behind the stage and a bar, with basically no way to get out, no way to see the show, and no one really giving a shit. But after mulling my options for a couple minutes, the strangest thing happened. I lifted my bag over my head and waded in to the ocean of people, toward the back of the venue. And they helped me. They made room. They didn’t get angry when their feet were stepped on. Hell, even a few used it as an excuse to push someone they didn’t like under the guise of getting people out of my way (vengeful cheap-shots are my personal favorite mosh move). Of course when I got to the back, I realized that even on the balcony, there was no a single place to stand with a view of the stage.
And while this entire episode may have been foolish, it was a glimpse into a subculture that exists like a time capsule, with only wrinkles and gray hair to prove that time is indeed passing. That, and the fact that a few people even brought their children to the show, eager to share the music they loved as an important tradition of growing up in Northern Orange County, where it may look violent and ruthless, but it will also take care of those who need help.
The Bouncing Souls were something different entireley. The New Jersey natives come from the mid-ninties (they formed in ’87, but didn’t release their debut until 1994), and this was a softer time period in punk history. Their sound is less agressive than 80’s hardcore, instead favoring lighthearted songs and uniting anthems. Sure that doesn’t sound too revolutionary, but when these guys were starting out, “fun” and “punk” were not usually used close to eachother in the same sentence. I discovered them through a college roomate who swore by their name, and was able to see them in Santa Cruz in 2001, with Flogging Molly opening. A good show.
The album that they were touring behind at that time was How I Spent My Summer Vacation. Though I am familiar with their earlier albums, this one, their fifth, was the one that I identify a certain time in my life with. But in going to see the Souls, I was unsure how this record is viewed in terms of their catalogue and how, or even whether or not, it would be represented in their live set. When Greg Attonito anounced before the second song the title, I was ecstatic that my album wouldn’t be overlooked. “Private Radio” received a fair eruption from the crowd, too. As the set unfolded, they damn well played nearly every cut from that album.
This focus on a ten-year-old album included enthusiastic renditions of “Manthem”, “Broken Record” and, “The Something Special”. But the two highlights came from their two strongest songs; “Gone”, which gives a punk twist on the all-encompassing youth anthems of the 80’s, and “True Believers”, their bro-hymn of unity that listeners can’t help but feeling a part of, even if you really aren’t. Of course, an earlier song, “East Coast Fuck You,” also you stood out for it’s obvious sentiment.
Last year, I had an opportunity to see The Gaslight Anthem’s Brian Fallon play an acoustic set at the Troubadour in West Hollywood, and he can’t say enough nice things about how The Bouncing Souls took their band under their wing and offered tons of support in their early days. Now The Gaslight Anthem is bigger than The Bouncing Souls ever were, but you can’t help feeling like it could have easily been so different for this band. Though mainstream success never found them, at least they are able to play 1000 person rooms after 20 years and get fans to overflow the space with their energy. It’s no wonder Attonito keeps wanting to sing from the crowd and why he can’t stop doing his marching-dance thing (he had this skank variation that looks like a march, but comes off like a dance. He pulls it off, whatever it is).
So if you haven’t checked in with your local punk scene lately, it’s probably worth the adventure. It reminded me that I am far removed from it, that in the mid-80’s when The Replacements and Husker Du and Big Black all decided to take the next step, that some people stayed behind and kept hardcore safe. Now as the indie seemingly grows without limit, and the alternative music scene continually mutates, it is hard to remember that these all come from the same roots and The Bouncing Souls make music that could sound good to fans of any of them. For as out of place as I might have looked, the ten year old buy who stood next to the photo pit, away from the danger of the occasional flailing body, didn’t watch the bands and decide to be a punk musician. After I showed him the above picture of himself, he whispered to his dad that he wanted to be a photographer. It was one of the more flattering events I have recently experienced. Of course, he would change his mind quickly if he saw what I had for dinner. Even so, it was a nice sentiment.
