#373

            Today I went to this Grant Hart documentary. I don’t know if it could be an actual documentary because basically it’s a one and a half hours long footage of Grant Hart speaking by himself about himself and every ten minutes for ten seconds Hüsker Dü is shown performing at different place in different times. The movie itself, and the moment when three old men who accidently bought tickets realized where they are, lost their shit and first become loudly irritated later left in the entourage of a huge fuss, were both quite entertaining. At one point Hart was discussing with himself the privilege to be an artist. He makes collages and while he is saying nowadays everybody is making art when only a few should do it. The camera is nauseatingly shaky by the amateurism of the filmmakers. This monologue follows a process of him making a piece of art he names $220.

                        It made me recall those days when I was doing the same thing, cutting out pictures and pasting them together on a huge piece of paper. I loved making collages on paper and occasionally on VHS. I was twelve so my focus on interesting things was reduced to skateboarding, comic books and nudity. Still this day I dig these subjects with all my heart even though my approach got a little more sophisticated.           But it all made sense. Collages for me not only embodied the easiest form of creating art, putting already existing things together and creating something new out of them, but it perfected my fandom since I was able to include everything I loved on one piece of paper and then I could lost myself in the little details by staring on this glued together pieces.

                        Gathering all my courage here I wanna disagree with Grant Hart and say everybody should be able to create art and it should be the crowd who sorts out the creations. I always wanted to be able to capture those feelings in myself what I’m going through and transform it into whatever that could be consumed by people. But in reality I do it to archive it for myself—to make it available even for myself.

                        Today is the day Kurt Cobain died. Being a younger brother of a hardcore Nirvana fan I denied not just liking but even to listen to Nirvana. Since it was a thing my brother did and his world didn’t really fit into my cube that was filled with smith grinds, people who were shooting laser through their eyes and boobs.

                        I first heard Nirvana when I already had 80% of Cobain’s favorite bands in my head. Then it sounded like Pixies trying to mimic late era Black Flag. But in his honor today I put on to the Faith / Void split LP. And I felt it again. I remembered one night couple years ago, in the same spring period, when I was walking around my block and I listened to this album and felt that something extra. When a feeling inside me is so strong it feels physical in a good way—when I feel like I can grab this thing. Those are the moments I wanna capture and store in a form of thrown together sentences for the future. For me these are already existing things that I place together as a collage. Music is the same. The best bands for me are like the Wu Tang Clan, where everything is great and all together it’s the best thing. As ODB yellingly sings in the background the same way I like guitars making damaged noises behind the actual songs. I have realized this when I was drunk on the back of a car that was blasting Minor Threat.

                        Since then the essence of punk for me is in that disharmony. The flooding noise that connects confused minds. Could be created by anyone but only those succeed who put themselves into it.

                        Nowadays I try to listen to European, Japanese and Latino bands as much as I can since I do agree with those who say American bands are way too privileged. It’s not like one thing is more real than the other, but I need to hear more because the variety of that realness in everyone is what interests me.

                        I’m rather interested in countries here more than time periods. Nothing was better back then. I don’t think people can grow out of hardcore. It’s hardcore that is growing out of old people. The music never changed cause it doesn’t need to. If you want new sounds listen to different genres—don’t be a lazy ass chap. If you wanna eat pizza don’t go to a Thai place and be surprised. We might get used to it—we are not shocked by it on every occasion but punk is like this. First it sounds like something fun. Funny looking creeps saying “fuck the system,” then it grows on you and maybe could force some sense into your brain. Maybe not and you will just be calm with your forever frustration and feel like it’s okay to be an outsider.

                        What is weird in differences between American and European punk is how some Europeans looked on this as a form of art while it was hardly the case in the US. I can accept both ideas and deny artsy-fartsy public masturbation through crappy selfless self-expression, or feel my brain starve when I encounter jockish dude rock attitude with jump around shitty music. I like music that either stands out as a monument or it sticks to million other things as an unavoidable piece of a global puzzle.

                        I have spent my recent days listening to Gun Outfit, who still are one of the best bands ever. Their music resonates with spring. I got amazed on how amazing early Mekons is with their alienated guitar sound. I blasted through the Finnish Spunk compilation and even speed can’t hide the melody in those bands—it’s hardcore perfection, hardcore played by the beaten. I listened to some disgustingly fun Italian early hardcore bands, like the amazing Stigmathe and Putrid Fever. I was blown away by the then contemporary Neos-worship Canadian band called Jerk Wards. That band’s sound is like an already broken thing has been sent through a garlic press. I moshed in my head to Social Suicide sickness and the There is More craziness; even Mixed Nuts Don’t Crack: Chalk Circle next to United Mutation and Nuclear Crayon—too good to be real—a compilation which is a perfect gathering of mutant sounds from America, a clean example of that cacophony that my heart beats. I have instant messaged Komplott to play here after I heard their filth soaked music. It’s insane that European bands never do full Europe tours. Make a change! KSU, UBR, sick sounds of Eastern Europe just as Radnicka Kontrola. Did you know that every country had amazing bands back then till now? Hardcore is like Chris Thompson bands—it was, is and going to be always good. Have you heard the Circus Lupus demos? It has a different version of “Pulp.”

                        Oh and I have bought a Raincoats LP and the dust collector sleeve has a stamp on it with the name of two members from legendary Hungarian punk band Trottel. They started out as a hardcore/post-hardcore then ended up as post-music, avant-garde, world music band. Still they had couple gigs with Fugazi around Europe and now I have a record that belonged to their private collection.

                        Everything is like a piece. I bought that record from one of my record dealers. I have two. Both of them are music enthusiasts and the other guy is reachable at any time if I wanna hear any music from any period of time from any country. It’s 2 AM—I ask him about old French freak-core and he writes me a list with 100 bands I have never even heard of, stating all of them are essential and to be honest he is fucking right cause 90% of them are fucking amazing. Do yourself a favor and always ask everyone about their local scene. This is how I have learnt about Plastix—amazing frauline-core from Austria. This is how I have learnt about Inferno, a German hardcore band with a crushing sound and weirdly good vocals that are not quite singing.

                        Most of these bands are similar in the way their anger is so personal it could happen to anyone. Their weirdness makes them misfits even in their countries, but still they are trapped into their reality which could leak into their sounds. But for me it’s always the background that is interesting. Right now I’m listening to the Bruce Loose EP and those keyboard songs that are waltzing on that vacuum cleaner sounding sonic guitars. This feels like being lonely at a miserable motel drunk and lonely next to an airport and not being able to sleep—even through closed windows you can hear the planes flying away while you are stuck in a cheap room all alone.

                        Ah, and don’t get me started on Japanese D-core.

                        Who the fuck thinks hardcore is boring? I mean, it was more shocking in the beginning but because we have built a tolerance against this aggression it still is fucking cool. Shock rock is a cheap shot and if you only have one joke sooner or later you will become a joke. So while I think punk is so much more than a subculture it has cultural elements and listening to music is one of them. To be young, smart and ugly is more than just culture, but it’s too hard to be penned down by anthropologists.

                        Anyway, yesterday I saw Calvin Johnson live and it was good. I could say it was built on a Jonathan Richman vibe as his whole set felt like a reenactment of Modern Lovers’ “Hospital,” but his voice is amazing. He is smart, or very bright, and he is a true weirdo. I asked him if he still doesn’t like onions and he said no, it’s not his thing but I shouldn’t hold it against him. There were two moments I got goose bumps: once when he was singing a song that went like, “If the dead can rise up, then so can we. If you don't understand the kids, then let them be”, the other was when he was singing about going to the movies alone. Something I used to do a lot. After that song I looked aside and saw my girlfriend smiling back at me and felt happy now I have someone with whom I can go to movies and punk shows.

                        Johnson’s set also proved that Americans, even their finest, are more about the humans than about the ideas. I’m saying this while he is backed up by K Records. Beat Happening itself was a great idea, but his love songs showed that America is great in presenting the anatomy of a person—of a person’s feelings. Even in his sharpest moments, when I felt he is so much smarter than everyone in the room, I just felt like he is different than we are. Not in an outsider way. In a different way which is cool I guess.