...on hardcore

...and handbags

so the bastard is settling into his usual saturday night which consists of watching downloaded episodes of doctor who, which in case you care is geek enough without having to download it off the internet, so in my boredom, i have acheived a new level of loserdom. anyway i get the 10:15 call from zsolte.

"hey bastard, whatcha doing tonight?"

"well actually i'm drinking beer in a basement and watching doctor who. what's up?"

well let's get past the requisite laughter at my plight and go straight to "well, i'm going to fuzzy's (local bar...real local) to see 25 ta life with dixon and maybe dean thrilla will make an appearance if you feel like coming out."

"zsolte, i am there because anything has to be better than sitting in a basement watching british sci fi. the only thing to make it worse would be if i was reading comic books. oh wait, that's what i did last saturday night. i'll see you in 15."

needless to say, while i've never heard note one of 25 ta life, i couldn't have left a building faster if it was burining to the ground. and i rode over to fuzzys. tryuth to tell, i could have walked but walking is soooooo 1985. the funny thing about "the scene" as skinheads call it, hasn't changed since i stopped going to shows. they sing songs about unity and try to sound as unoriginal as possible. not that they try to sound unoriginal and all but bands try to sound contemporary and as a result sound like what would happen is limp biscuit had a baby with napalm death. and it isn't their fault. hardcore is more about the fundamentals. good song structure and singing about unity and tattoos. but the sound is kind oif distinct.

by the tim,e 25 ta life hit the stage, i had had my fill of the opening acts and when they started i realized why thrilla and dixon had given up a night of 30 something aged sleep to see these guys. they were old school. real old school. the kind of thing that makes you think of why you started listening to this stuff. hell, the kids even danced old school. this band was hahd. they not only played in romania, they played in hungaria. now while i was enjoying ther sounds, i couldn't help but notice the pop culture footnotes at this show. mainly the girls. i couldn't shake the notion that there were girls that were decked out in their NYHC best but, were carrying burberry handbags. how do you keep it real while carrying one of those things at a show liek this. this is supposed to be about the streets. now to be fair, the bastard is older and wiser and understands the bullshit but, this seemed iconoclatic to me. and funny. almost as funny as thrilla's comment on how girls in a moshpit always strike him as how watching a girl slam dance looks less like dancing and more like a woman trying to escape a sex crime and maybe it does look like that. but it makes the bastard understand what all of those old school skinheads i used to see at shows in the back of the room were laughing about. it's like being in on the oldest joke in the scene. what i wouldn't give to be able to get a time machine and bring back a 1980's incarnation of token entry to perform "the edge" just to lift this up a bit but i will settle for dixon and thrilla stealing the mike to sing "crucified" on 25 ta life's dime. well played, sirs. well played.

—the bastard