This is a failed blog about sexism and sexism in punk rock.

I’ve totally tried to write eloquently and seriously about sexism and sexism in punk rock. I continue to fail at this, and it upsets me. Growing up in DC punk rock is, I think or hope anyway, a little different from growing up in other punk rock scenes. Maybe it’s because the women that created spaces in opposition were unstoppable, or maybe it was because Ian MacKaye, a patriarch of punk was pretty awesome to talented people and his example for us dudes led the way. Coincidentally, I think that Ian MacKaye as my punk patriarch, as problematic as the mythos about the man were, was my greatest role model.

Part of my problem is I’m not a hyper-aware kind of dude. I don’t believe that my beloved DC punk scene was free of sexism. In fact, some parts of it that I rolled in from time to time were down right misogynistic. But there was a post-punk, DIY, politically minded scene where a lot of great women were involved. Not just as musicians but as organizers, label heads, show promoters, engineers, etc. They were also role models to me, people who did amazing things, often tirelessly, thanklessly and in opposition. And sure, the women I got to know in DC punk had tons of stories of sexism, but they always seemed to be from on the road, far away from our scene. But again, I am aloof. It’s not that I don’t care, I’m just careless. I get aware of the bands on stage, making the noise I love. I’m not paying attention to the crowd of people next to me, or the interactions. I was oblivious to it. Not because I don’t like to confront bullshit, that’s just how I get around live music, oblivious to the world around me.

But there is no doubt that the problems of sexism, and her brothers homophobia and racism, existed in my scene and in punk rock at large. I just wish I knew what I could do about it. Especially at 34 from Albuquerque, NM where I haven’t found the DIY, punk, political scene too much. Except for Ronoso (can’t get the damn tile to work) who are grind, and vegan, and awesome. I know it’s not much different in regular society, and I know my own behaviors aren’t always awesome, but I want to be an active, involved and engaged ally. Part of the problem is the engaged thing.

Another problem is embracing parts of “maleness” that might be threatening or just make people uncomfortable. Look, Dude Jams, Too Many Daves, fat, drunk guys without shirts are things I love. Part of it is celebrating just being a loser, which is something I identify with. Part of it is saying fuck off to the “ideal” masculine paradigm by celebrating fat bodies and alternate types of maleness. Some of it is just dumb fun. Some of it is thoughtless, and thoughtlessness can be harmful to other people. It’s trying to navigate the space so we can all be self celebratory and comfortable with each other. Sometimes people overstep boundaries. Sometimes they do it because fighting makes them tired so they just take. Sometimes they do it because they don’t care. Sometimes they do it because they don’t know that shit that seems awesome and natural and self celebratory to them might be offensive or make other people uncomfortable. Bodies and the way we celebrate some and reject others in America is totally fucked up and not right. There has to be a way to reclaim that shit.

So, part of my process is just writing about it here. My problems, my confusion, my messy head, just getting these words out is how I try and learn and get better. Another part is once again looking to the brave, amazing, talented and powerful women in punk rock who are again, tirelessly and thanklessly talking about these issues. They are doing so in the face of more, predictable, fragile punk rock boy whining whose fear birthed that whole gotheMo movement that I think, maybe is done? I hope. Anyway, the rad blog I Live Sweat has three awesome essays by three awesome ladies that I think you should read and think about. No matter where you are on the gender/sexuality spectrum. No matter if you like Black Flag or Jay Z. This little scene is just a small microcosm of the larger world anyway. You can replace “punk” with any other scene or just remove the word all together and it still matters.

I am gonna continue to think about this shit, try to be a better human being, think about my own words and actions, how they affect other people and try to create safe and awesome spaces for everyone, no matter their identity in this world, self or societal. If there are experiences or readings about this shit, done especially by men, about this shit that you think I or the world could benefit from, please comment. That would be rad. Let’s make a dialog, let’s get action going, lets honestly put our selves in check. We can do all of this and still be awesome and have fun! Being respectful does not have to equal boring, lame and reserved. It mostly mans not being a self-centered asshole. Life is an awesome, beautiful, amazing party with so much awesomeness and rad dudes. We should get into it, be active about it and have a good time.

Dischord, Old and New

Dag Nasty
Dag With Shawn
Dischord

25 Years Ago, four smelly dudes went into a studio and recorded their nine songs. One of those dudes was in Minor Threat and it was probably a big deal to hear on the streets of DC. Seeing as most post-Minor Threat activity was not quite up to par or that long-lived, the prospects of any of those dudes doing something new and potentially dangerous was probably quite stirring. Among those four dudes was a lanky kid named Shawn Brown. He could yell, boy could he yell. A pair of pipes had not been heard in that town since Ian Mackaye to be sure. They made something awesome and epic. Then Shawn Brown left the band.

In the years following, Dag Nasty would record a few more albums with a couple different singers that would have an undefinable and lasting effect on untold generations of punk rockers, some of which who would measure a lot greater legion of fans than Dag Nasty. Shawn Brown joined up with Swiz that is beloved by those in the know, but feels relatively unknown as time’s handles continue to churn. But what of the music these people made together?

These tapes are kind of legendary in the DC circles that I have wandered in for the past two decades. A very odd, crappy bootleg CD existed and has been copied by many completists. I even recently saw said disc at a used store in Seattle, proof that the legend extended beyond our little backyard swamp. But now, Dischord records, quickly proving the doctrine of archivists Ian Mackaye has stated for years, has pressed this fine bit of history onto vinyl.

Never seeking to be confused with being verbose or chatty, this nine song album is presented with no frills, and no tales of the humble beginnings of this seminal band. The Dischord website itself has just one short paragraph on the subject with an end post stating, “This is essentially the same album that was later re-recorded and released as Can I Say.”  This nearly undermines the project almost completely, if it weren’t for the strength of the record itself. For the first time Dag Nasty sounds like a gritty, no holes barred punk band, and it isn’t only thanks to the gruff stylings of Shawn Brown, whose approach was not mimicked by future vocalists. Instead, the song writing chops of Brian Baker are showcased in their rawest form and we get a powerful, aggressive and fast punk rock record. In fact, this is the link between the early years of DC hardcore and what would follow, in large part thanks to Dag nasty themselves.

The Can I Say album showcased a more polished, oiled sound with a dynamic singer in Dave Smalley. It has often felt, in hindsight to encapsulate a more career minded Brian Baker whose musical history includes a hair metal band and the inclusion of being a hired hand in Punk Rock grandfathers Bad Religion. Here however, we find a version of Dag Nasty that was hungry to be heard. As the music scene of DC seemed to slow and calm down, Dag Nasty still wanted speed and fury to be a part of the equation. And it isn’t just a repeat, because Baker’s catchy sensibilities are showcased in perfection.

This is Dag Nasty as I always wanted them. True, had they stayed the course and had Brown continued along with the band, they probably wouldn’t have had the impact they did on the legions of followers. Dag Nasty’s influence seems so often unnamed, but is so obvious to my ears, even now, when new bands add harmonies and slick riffage. But Dag With Shawn is a truly great piece of history and thankfully not lost.

Zomes
Improvisations 1 & 2
Imminent Frequencies

About a year ago I dropped fucking astral, metaphysical science on you by introducing you to Zomes. But you didn’t fucking listen to me. I know you didn’t listen to me because somehow Asa Osborne is still not on a cosmic tour about the galaxy and beyond throwing down his sonic awesomeness from a fucking space ship. Because if you did what you should have, you would have bought the CD, told your friends, they would have bought the CD and so on and so on and then he’d have like ten billion dollars to build an intergalactic space craft with amplifiers and speakers and shit and he could just fly around in the vastness of the celestial offerings way up in the sky. So seriously, this rant is a FUCK YOU. Why? Because you can’t get this fucking tape anymore, because some dude only made 150 of them and their aren’t gonna be anymore made. And yea, I did in fact transfer this tape to digital, but I’m not gonna share it with the internet. You know why, because you don’t deserve it internet. You don’t. You fucking don’t listen to me, and because of that really cool shit, like Asa Osborn in a space cruiser playing keyboards, doesn’t happen.  And that disappoints me. It disappoints me a great deal. It gets my blood pressure up. Which I don’t appreciate. I’m glad this tape is rare, I am glad it’s on a dead format that only shit heads like me care about, and I am glad I get to be withholding to you internet, because you pissed me off. You can redeem yourself, barely, by purchasing his full length that is still available from Dischord records, right now.

Lungfish – Pass & Stow

Lungfish
Pass and Stow (reissue)
Dischord

The economy is fucked, and I can tell by one litmus test. Dischord Records is not releasing new bands. Look, there are a plethora of new bands in DC that they could be putting out that totally fit the mold. Give pay homage to Dag Nasty and Swiz and all those mid eighties bands. Body Cop are just out of their fucking minds insane. Cephalopods are fronted by one time Dischord Alumni Hugh McElroy and make most bands look like a fucking joke. And then there is Imperial China who make most of the Dischord bands of yester-years look like a joke. If the music industry was kind and Ian was paying me to A&R while he was busy wearing old t-shirts and hanging out with his kid, those are the four bands I would sign to usher in the new wave of DC’s once again awesome and diverse scene. But the reality is, Dischord is a modest label, operating in a time when modesty doesn’t get you shit because all your fucking loyal fans turned out to be thieving assholes. So, in order to stay afloat, Dischord has turned largely to their back catalog and the archives.

Earlier this year we got a remastered version of the classic Jawbox album For Your Own Special Sweatheart (which I didn’t buy on vinyl and feel kind of stupid for that, but whatever). I’m not a huge fan of the remix/remaster versions of things. I mean, technology can make albums sound better, but sometimes, I just don’t want that original taken from me. But in the case of Jawbox, I knew it would be awesome and it was. But also, I just don’t really want to replace my entire record collection. Sure, an updated mix of Red Medicine and even In on the Kill Taker might, MIGHT be kind of awesome, I just don’t have the cash flow to repurchase albums I already own. But there is an exception to be made, and that comes in the form of anything and everything by Lungfish.

I have it on good word that there are no other immediate plans to reissue any of the other Lungfish albums anytime soon. This makes sense, because a lot of those records were re-cut early at the turn of the century. However, Pass and Stow getting refaced is pretty  phenomenal. Any reader of this blog is well aware of my love, near obsession with Lungfish. I am a part of a cultish group that deeply loves this band. They are not for everyone. They seem, on the surface weird and off-putting. They do not seem intricate at all. Hell, on first listen, I wasn’t a fan either. It just sounded like a bunch of art school weirdo’s. But over time I began to understand that Lungfish were one of the greatest bands of all time (how often do I have to say that shit) and I think I pretty much consumed their entire back catalog in about eight weeks back in 2000.

Pass and Stow, well, I’ve always loved this album. It is a the face of Lungfish between two worlds. Prior, they released some pretty straight forward albums that made sense on the Dischord roster. Pass and Stow however showcases a cerebral band on the cusp of a cosmic overdrive. This is the foundation for everything that came later. Listening to “The Trap Gets Set” foreshadows so much of Artificial Horizons but it’s ballad like in its subtle beauty. That it is followed by “Computer” where Astral Higgs clanks “On the one hand you’ve got the law/on the other hand you’ve got the law” as the treble cuts and the bass and drums march along is a foundation of the sonic destruction the band performed throughout.  And of course “Evidence” a song that made legions of Lungfish fans feel they were on a different temporal path gets no better. If ever they were to have a “hit” that would be it.

So is it worth forking over the money to buy albums I already own? Damn right it is. The remastering job on this record is fantastic. The album maintains it’s integrity. Nothing gets pushed around and remodeled. But the bass is so much richer, reminiscent of their live sound and paying a great tribute to original bassist John Chriest’s work with the band. Other performances that I have never heard, including buried vocals by Higgs are also clearer. The instruments are separated nicely and no longer sit on top of each other. I listened to both versions today, and the reworking is the clear winner.

A few months ago I got to talk to Ian MacKaye, Dischord founder and curator. Of all the things I have ever wanted to ask him, he graciously talked about Lungfish with me. He did so no so much out of politeness, but because he is first and foremost a fan, probably their biggest fan. I was given a peek inside their history during our chat. The band still gets along and never really “broke up”, Ian, like us is hopeful they will play again one day, and there are many songs the public has never heard. It’s possible we may hear these one day, but even with their label, the mysterious Lungfish gives up very few of it’s secrets, holding close their magical powers. Pass and Stow is a pinnacle in music history. The word underrated is so often applied to so many pedestrian musical groups. So many bands that get this label do not have the range, volume, unique sensibilities and the pure drive to make their own art. Lungfish created music. They were just four dudes with the most basic rock instruments. But so many have tried to describe them, and no one has succeeded. I won’t even try, because I know I can’t. They were a band, unlike anything, speaking their own language and doing nothing more than making the music that they made. Pass and Stow, renewed now with a sonic clarity is deserving of this band and this album. As a fan for life, I am very grateful.

This is the best stuff that the internet has to offer that I have found about the band. I urge you to become immersed.

Publicradio.net produced this.
Arlie Carstens of the criminally unknown Seattle band Juno wrote this.
Questionable Content artist Jeph Jaques had a blog and some dude wrote this.
This is from a blog called Dreamflesh.

AND if you can find them, I highly recommend the Punk Planet interview they did as well as Jessica Hopper’s column she wrote about stalking Dan Higgs one winter. A story she never finished. Seriously, weak.

Five Most Overrated Bands/Artists of the Nineties

I like top ten and top five lists as a reader, but as a journalist, I don’t find them very exciting and interesting. Maybe because they are these alleged, definitive, compilations of criticism of the best of days passed. The days past are the days past and I have to paraphrase the Great Ian Mackaye and say, music being made now is so much better because it’s happening now. You can be involved in the music of now. There is no nostalgia.

Also, no one ever looks at critical and popular darlings critically. So, in honor of some other recent, lazy summer journalism at a web site I frequent but will remain unnamed, I decided to do a short post of the five artists I find most overrated, and why. Here we go. This will probably piss you off. Deal with it.

#5 – The Fugees.
They were lauded as saving rap, when rap and hip hop did not need saving. Wyclef Jean is not a good song writer and his solo album reinforces that. It’s blanned, boring, repetitive and terribly derivative of a claimed cultures without adding anything new to the ongoing musical dialog. Lauryn Hill, who some argue is the most talented female rapper to make it, was marred in boring race controversy, murdered a Bob Marley song and fell off the face of the earth. I hardly find this half hearted effort worth it. There is so much more subversive, powerful and genuinely controversial hip hop from the 90′s, that Fugees come off for what they were, a media project that did not last.

#4 – Built to Spill.
Built to Spill is one of the first rock bands I ever saw where the members look pained to be partaking in their craft. It’s a rock band dudes, HAVE FUN. I don’t care how broke, poor or unwanted by your love interests you are, put something into it. This is proto-emo music and probably directly responsible for garbage like Pedro The Lion, Dashboard Confessional, and a myriad of other self loathing white boys with guitars who clearly don’t understand the gender paradigm that gives them the freedom and built in audience for which they are able to cry. Also, the singer’s voice annoys the fuck out of me.

#3 – Biggie Smalls.
Two Words: Marble Mouth.

#2 – Beck.
This slack ass, lazy fucker is so well-loved by the public, it makes me weep. His 90′s output, so far as I am concerned was not clever and does not hold up. Beck was one of these hipster, goofball kids who tried to marry anti-pop and pop (more on that in a minute) and spit out nonsense. His songs were boring, his voice is effortless (thanks J. Mascis, if yr guitar playing wasn’t so great, you might too be on this list) and his wittiness was not witty. “Loser” sucks. “Two Turn Tables and a Microphone” sucks. I am told he gets more genius as time goes on, but he also joined the Church of Scientology. Strike Three. I let that shit pass for Jason Lee because he invented the 360 Flip, was in Mi Vida Loca and played Brodie Bruce in Mall Rats. Oh yea, and he was in a Sonic Youth video. Beck, you just bore the fuck out of me.

#1 – Pavement.
Pavement wanted to be Sonic Youth more than Sonic Youth and sadly got more press and attention. This band really married Anti-Pop with Pop and not in a Sonic Youth/Andy Warhol kind of way. It was pop music with silliness, and while jovial and fun-loving in presentation, the whole thing just came off as disingenuous. Their slacker, nonsense out wieghs Beck by such great mass, that just thinking about it makes me sick. Spiral Staircase is a terrible stage name. The music is jarring and annoying. I can honestly say I have never heard an entire song by that band, and the reason is, is because it makes me run from the room. It is intolerable sound pollution and I want to fight their music. I don’t even have a problem with the people, or their public personalities (though the one interview I ever read with them left much to be desired) but really, those sounds made me want to cry.

Introducing Allo Darlin’

Sometimes, co-workers are not bad people. Most of the time they are self indulgent, loud, swearing, insufferable pricks (what me?) who annoy the fuck out of you, stand in your cube, slap you in the ass and talk shit about your two year olds. Sometimes they are dorky indie rock geeks too old to get down, but had the pleasure of living in England and already had a predisposition for that sad bastard music from that cold, dreary and shifty island that believes they invented everything cool. Sometimes they turn your on to some really cool music, even though they don’t like Sabbath. Such was the case with my introduction to Allo Darlin’.

My cube farm compatriot, longing for the days when we are free from this hell, was hanging out on the YouTube and played me this cute video of this cute band for this equally cute song called “Polaroid Song”. It’s one of those very simple, infectious, pop songs that really doesn’t make you all fucked up and crazy, which is good between doses of Black Sabbath and Devour (two posts from now). We also found the kitchy track “Henry Rollins Don’t Dance” which name drops both Hank and his best bud since he was little Ian MacKaye. It’s a doofus inspired song, but god damn it sometimes music doesn’t have to be so fucking serious. Sometimes it can just be silly and fun. When it’s actually done with a bit of care and craft too, it can be down right good.

So tonight, I am chilling out to the seven songs from the singles that are currently commercially available in iTunes thanks to my scruffy looking nerf herder of an office mate. You know, sometimes you just have to take a break from thrashing and moshing and just lightly pogo or even just kick your feet up and chill out. The ukulele really helps facilitate the latter, while the clean and crisp guitars and solidly tracked drums get the beginning going. Bands across the sea seem to have a knack for at least cracking the radar over hear. The British Isles and even beyond actually still recognize that pop music can be made by pop bands and not manufactured by corporations who just shove fake tits attached to pre-teen girls in our faces. Do your self a favor and check this shit out. It’s not going to kill you. Look, I even embedded a video below. Instant gratification with no work on your part. The internet loves you.