1Table of Contents Chapter 1 – An Introduction Page 2 Chapter 2 – Setting the Stage Page 8 Chapter 3 – Hardcore Youth, Living Drug Free Page 22 Chapter 4 – Not Just Boys' Fun Page 32 Chapter 5 – When I Get Old Page 47 Works Cited Page 53 Retrospective Page 55 2 Chapter 1 – An Introduction “Fuck you, you fucking faggot, fuck all of you!” I was standing in the back hallway of my local record store, Siren Records in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, but came running in when I heard such an aggressive outburst. A bookshelf was smashed, CD racks broken and plastic cases shattered on the floor, and some faceless guy was getting dragged out, literally kicking and screaming. For the last hour I had been guarding the back door of the store, making sure no one tried to sneak in, but the entire atmosphere had changed during that time. I'd never encountered such a scene at a show. I'd been to many hardcore shows since my first in 2005, but never had they regressed into such chaos. Violence has always been considered a part of hardcore, but until then I'd only seen it turn inward. Seeing people perched on speakers, and smashing the things around them was entirely new. I was shocked, and angered that people had destroyed a place I felt so close to, but I was also interested. What about the show had made people go to such lengths to express themselves? Was this the sign of a successful show? Hardcore had become an important part of my life and I needed to understand more of it. This paper discusses how participation in the hardcore scene molds one's identity, as well as how one's identity plays a role in how they are able to participate in hardcore. I focus on the hardcore scene that existed in Doylestown, Pennsylvania – a small suburb outside of Philadelphia – between the years 2006 and 2010, and Staggered Works, the show promotion company that supported the scene. I do this through interviews conducted with members of the Doylestown hardcore scene; an analysis of literature on hardcore, and anecdotes from my own personal experience in the scene. I will look at 3 integral facets of the hardcore scene such as straight edge, an identity based around abstaining from alcohol and drug use, as well as how class and gender influence the experience of a hardcore fan. I end with a discussion of growing up in punk and the ways in which fans can negotiate aging with their participation in the scene. I close with what happens when a scene loses its venues and the local hardcore community begins to fall apart. Methodology I conducted six interviews with members of the Doylestown hardcore scene between May and September of 2014. I looked for a wide range of experiences, so I chose at least one person who participated in each aspect of the scene. I sought out musicians, fans, and community organizers as well as two primary founders of the concert promotion company, Staggered Works, which was responsible for booking most of the hardcore shows between 2006 and 2010. I was only able to speak with one woman, partially because many women I spoke to felt uncomfortable or unsafe discussing their experiences, which were often negative and occasionally verged on abusive. I asked the participants about their experiences in the scene and what they may have witnessed about the experiences of others, specifically women. I also asked about ways that they participated in hardcore outside of performing or listening to music, such as an identification with straight edge. I hoped to learn more about why people enter the hardcore scene, what they find when they get there, and how they may feel that identity can influence ones experience in the scene. I interviewed musicians, community organizers, and fans involved in the Doylestown, Pennsylvania hardcore scene. Todd Cramer grew up going to shows in Doylestown and the Philadelphia area during the 1980s. Currently in his early 40s, Cramer sings in Dysphoria, a hardcore band that formed in 1993 in Lansdale, Pennsylvania. Shannon Hays, who is in her 30s, is a lifelong punk and hardcore fan, and has been a member of the Lansdale, Doylestown, and Philadelphia hardcore 4 scenes since she was a teenager. Jon Martello (b. 1986) is the drummer for the currently active hardcore band, Rock Bottom, and has played in hardcore, punk, and metal bands in the Doylestown area since he was in high school. Dave Heck (b. 1983) has played guitar in a series of successful hardcore bands from Doylestown, Lansdale, and Philadelphia for many years, and currently plays in the newly formed hardcore band Sick Sad World. Heck also publishes the zine 1 Get This Right and runs a record label by the same name. Blair Elliot is in his 50s and is the owner of Siren Records in Doylestown; he helped found and oversee Staggered Works. Blair has been a punk and hardcore fan since he was a teenager, and attends hardcore shows in New York and Philadelphia regularly. Bob Meadows, currently in his 30s, was the singer of metal band A Life Once Lost between 1999 and 2013, and the founder of Staggered Works in 2006. In addition to the interviews, much of my research was informed by my own experiences as a participant in the Doylestown hardcore scene between 2006 and 2010 2. I began attending punk and hardcore shows when I was 12 at the local YMCA Teen Center. I rarely participated in the act of moshing (dancing at shows). Instead I tended to stand close to the front, so I could still be in the action of the crowd, and frequently bought merchandise from the bands. I purchased and read a few zines written by members of the scene, and bought as many vinyl records as I could afford. To me, it was important that I didn't just attend shows, but that I was an active participant in the scene. By supporting bands through paying for their merchandise, I felt I was helping keep the scene alive, despite not being a performer or a show promoter. In 2007, I started working for Staggered Works, initially posting flyers around the town and then helping run the front door at shows. Eventually, I was attending and working at least two shows a week, and saw a wide array of punk, metal, and hardcore bands that ranged from small local groups, to internationally known bands that could sell out a venue twice the size of any of 1 Derived from the word magazine, a zine is an independently published booklet. Punk and hardcore fans commonly write zines to talk about music they care about or the scene they are involved in. 2 In this paper I will use italics to visually differentiate my memories of these years from the rest of my research. 5 ours. During this time I also briefly played electric violin in a punk band that included a trombone and a saxophone alongside the standard punk band instruments. We were short lived, but we played two shows booked by Staggered Works. Along with my interviews and personal observations, a collection of texts informed my writing on the topic. In discussing the history of various hardcore scenes throughout the country, Blush (2001) gives insight into how class can influence the characteristics of a geographically based hardcore scene. His explorations of the differences between the affluent, suburban D.C. scene and the poorer New York scene support my own theories about Doylestown and why this small suburb offered an ideal location for a hardcore scene. Doylestown's comparative wealth and status as an artistically inclined suburb was integral to how it formed as a hardcore scene. Ethnographic studies of straight edge subcultures in hardcore have supported my own observations about the straight edge scene in Doylestown. Studies about gender in the hardcore scene, assert that straight edge and hardcore as a whole are male dominated communities that tend to push women out (See Haenfler [2006], Wood [2006]). Haenfler makes the point that the overall absence of rules in straight edge and the fact that theoretically anyone willing to comply with the basic standards of alcohol and drug abstention can join this movement. The lack of structure regarding membership makes it so straight edgers can claim that their movement is all inclusive, without being forced to examine who is actually allowed in. This was clear in the Doylestown hardcore scene, as there were very few women in the scene altogether but there was no set rule that indicates that women were not to be allowed to participate. The ways in which women are allowed to participate in the hardcore scene is expanded on by Mullaney (2007), who argues that women are given the jobs in the scene that men are no longer interested in filling. This point is supported by Clawson (1999), who investigates the overrepresentation of women as bass players in rock music and explains that this is because men find the bass to be the least attractive instrument in the band. Mullaney's and Clawson's arguments support 6 my observations regarding the participation of women in the Doylestown scene. The few women who attended shows found themselves relegated to the “girlfriend” standing in the back of the room holding their boyfriend's coat or working the less sought after jobs such as photographer, or in my case, selling drinks. Haenfler (2006) and Wood (2006) also explore how men in the hardcore scene have found an expression for their masculinity in hardcore. Haenfler uses gender theory to explain that, in response to feeling that their masculinity is in question by modern society, men use self control, exclusion of women, and homosocial experiences to reinforce their feelings of manliness. This was reflected in the Doylestown hardcore scene in a number of ways. Women were continuously excluded from participating the scene and those who did attend shows were often made to feel alienated and unwelcome. The use of the Moose Lodge, a male dominated social club, as a venue supports Haenfler's point that hardcore can serve as a homosocial event for men. While women are present, many of the reasons the majority of male fans start going to hardcore shows is to find a brotherhood, and to find unity among the men of the scene. Finally, Davis (2006) informs my discussion of the problem of aging in hardcore. Hardcore is generally seen as a scene suited to teenagers, one that people would leave behind the by the time they turn 30. Davis explores how people who have reached an age no longer considered appropriate for fulltime punk participation attempt to resolve this. Her examples of unsuccessful and successful aging fans highlight the issues that I saw in the Doylestown scene. While most of the people in the Doylestown hardcore scene were in high school or college, some were verging on being seen as too old to regularly attend shows, and the way they handled this was influential on the atmosphere of the scene. I first address the history of hardcore music. By looking at how hardcore developed in cities across the country, I will also look at how class may have informed the way the scenes grew. I then discuss the history of hardcore in Doylestown – specifically through Staggered Works – and the 7 surrounding towns, and explore why these towns may have been a prime location for such scenes to grow. After providing a background to the hardcore genre and the way the hardcore scene existed in Doylestown, I explore ways in which identity influences the hardcore experience. I discuss the straight edge movement – which calls for abstinence from alcohol and drug use – and how gender plays a role in how a hardcore scene functions. Finally, I conclude with an examination of what happens when a punk fan grows out of the accepted age for punk fans and how a hardcore scene reacts when its groundwork collapses in on itself. 8 Chapter 2 – Setting the Stage Hardcore History and the Role of Location and Class Introduction to Hardcore Music Rooted in garage rock and other alternative forms of music, punk developed between 1974 and 1976 both in the United States and the United Kingdom. Punk was known for its fast, aggressive music often accompanied by anti-establishment lyrics and a down-with-the-man attitude. Around the late 1970s, a softer, more art-based style emerged from punk known as new wave, which abandoned the harder, more aggressive attitude of the growing punk scene. While some punk fans took to this new style happily, many were left wanting for a more aggressive style. Hardcore, also known as hardcore punk, was the response, originating in the late 1970s. In American Hardcore: A Tribal History, Steven Blush writes, “There arose a generation of disaffected kids who wanted Punk's fury without New Wave's art-school baggage. The seeds of hardcore were sown ” (Blush 2001:14). He explains that hardcore is for the most part faster and more abrasive than punk rock, and that it “extended, mimicked, or reacted to punk; it appropriated some aspects yet discarded others. It reaffirmed Punk attitude and rejected New Wave. That's why it was hard-core punk – for extreme kids” (Blush 2001:15). According to Blush, hardcore originated in Southern California: “Probably because [the disaffected youth in Southern California] lived as close to the American Dream as one could get. Born of a doomed ideal of middle-class utopia, Punk juiced their nihilism” (Blush 2001:15). The first single 9 to be considered a hardcore record came from a band based in Santa Ana called Middle Class. Entitled “Out of Vogue,” this song features shouted lyrics and is a faster version of punk, and pioneered the hardcore sound (Blush 2001:19). Shortly after, the band Black Flag from Hermosa Beach, California, added more aggression and speed to their music, thereby beginning to define the genre. Blush explains, If the Ramones and Sex Pistols defined Punk, then Black Flag defined Hardcore... Black Flag kindled an identifiably American response to Punk. Their punishing music, tireless work ethic, and independent attitude – as opposed to prevailing L.A. Punk look-at-me vibe – became the inspiration and archetype for all who followed...Black Flag...merged the basic Punk construct of aggression, anti-stardom and alienation with a blue-collar mindset (Blush 2001:56). The pioneers of hardcore aimed to create a music that went further than the punk music made in the early 1980s. The generally embraced template for hardcore music is that it must be fast, loud, and aggressive. Hardcore bands almost exclusively stick to the standard four-piece instrument make-up of punk and other hard rock bands: guitar, bass, drums, and a vocalist. Hardcore vocals are predominantly shouted or screamed, accompanied by occasional chanting by band members. Hardcore almost never features clean singing. Songs are usually very short, often as short 30 seconds and rarely longer than three minutes. Hardcore lyrics cover a range of topics, but most are very personal. Hardcore does not have the prevalent activist edge that much early punk did, but some bands try to incorporate politics into their music, particularly those groups who formed in the mid 1980s, like Reagan Youth from New York. Bands like Youth of Today and Earth Crisis sing about personal choice and strength. The song “New York Crew” by Judge is about unity in the hardcore scene, a theme that is common in many modern hardcore songs. Some songs like “Clobberin' Time/Pay the Price” by Sick of it All has lyrics about violence, and songs like “Chasin' the Dragon” by Wisdom in Chains focus on the hardcore scene itself. When fans attend hardcore shows, they often engage with the music through dancing. The aggressive, violent form of dancing that is seen at hardcore shows is known as moshing, and the space in which the dancing takes place is known as a mosh pit. The first reference to moshing, occasionally 10 also referred to as slam-dancing, came in Rolling Stone magazine in 1981, in an article by Woody Hochswender writes: Inside [the Stardust Club], bodies scratched and collided in front of the stage, pushing off one another like bumper cars. Periodically the crowd surged back away from the stage as the slamdancing grew more intense, and bouncers emerged from the shadows lugging another bloodied form. (I counted one per ninety-second song throughout the set) (Hochswender, “SlamDancing”, 1981). Hochswender describes a punk show, which generally inspires a different sort of mosh pit than hardcore music. From my experience, hardcore mosh pits were much more controlled than the chaos usually seen at punk shows but also tended to be more violent. Hardcore music aimed to be more extreme than punk, and the way fans reacted to the music is also more extreme. Rather than pushing and shoving each other in a mass group, like what is commonly seen in punk mosh pits, hardcore fans tend to perform a series of choreographed moves intended to match the violence and intensity of the music. These steps include exaggerated punches and kicks, spins, and stomping across the room back and forth. Location, Location, Location From big cities like Los Angeles and New York to small towns like Doylestown, Pennsylvania and its predecessor, Lansdale, PA, hardcore follows the old realty adage: “location, location, location.” As a genre, hardcore focuses on community. Most fans generally do not just stay at home and listen to music, but rather go out, attend shows, and meet other fans. Because of this, location is often a crucial part of the development of the attitudes of members of the hardcore scene and the sound that comes from the bands. With its emphasis on unity and brotherhood, and the energy of the live performances of the bands, hardcore music demands that fans be engaged – passivity is just unacceptable. Jack Rabid is the editor of The Big Takeover, a long-running music magazine published in New York City. He explains why the localized punk scene was appealing to him, 11 I just immediately understood the appeal of a local scene – the idea of being like a select club that met on a regular basis where you all got to know the same people. I'm sure a lot of them were like me – they enjoyed the band and thought they were good, but mostly they were going because it was this club, where no one ever took membership and there was no barrier to entry. You being there meant you were accepted (Jack Rabid as quoted in Blush 2001: 194). Local musician and organizer Dave Heck experienced a similar closeness that attracted him to the scene. The music brought him in, but like for so many hardcore fans, it was the attitude of the people that made him stay: The way I started going to shows and was exposed to the community of it around our area, I saw that nobody really cared about who was better than who and if they did, people just didn't really give a fuck...It was just really cool...Back then people came out and looked out for each other, which is something that still really practiced today out here and elsewhere. That is what I saw, and I loved it (Heck, interview, 2014). While the first bands to be called hardcore came out of Southern California, (Blush, 2001: 80), the East Coast is where the genre found its heart. As with Southern California, the well-off suburbs that sprawled across the East Coast were a perfect breeding ground for the boredom, resources, and down-with-the-man attitude that led to hardcore as we know it today. Henry Rollins, the D.C. born singer of Black Flag between 1981 and 1986, explains, “It was a bunch of suburbanites looking to get loose” (Henry Rollins as quoted in Blush 2001:149). Blush argues that “If L.A. spawned Hardcore, it reached fruition in Washington, D.C. The term Hardcore now implies a sound, style, aesthetic coming out of early 80s D.C.” The punk scene in D.C. was originally based in “an ugly miasma of goofy MD/VA types with beards in skinny ties and wraparound shades,” writes Blush, and consisted of primarily new wave-influenced bands (Blush 2001:149). Early D.C. proto-punk bands including White Boy, the Slickee Boys, and D.C.'s first working class, blue collar punk band – Black Market Baby. The hardcore scene on the East Coast began with D.C. band Bad Brains with their 1980 single “Pay to Cum”, which Blush declares the fastest record of its time (Blush 2001:132). Originally formed 12 as a jazz fusion ensemble called Mind Power, Bad Brains was one of the earliest bands that showed the ability for a hardcore band to be both aggressive and upbeat. Another group of young punks were inspired by the scene growing in L.A. and taking influence from the louder, faster, more aggressive style of hardcore trailblazers like the Bad Brains. In 1979, 17 year old Ian MacKaye and classmate Jeff Nelson formed the Teen Idles, with the intention of reviving the punk attitude, which the band had felt was distorted by new wave (Azerrad 2001:123). The Teen Idles only lasted a year, breaking up in late 1980. Almost immediately after, MacKaye and Nelson formed Minor Threat. Along with releasing some of the earliest and most influential hardcore records, Minor Threat also introduced the concept of straight edge, an ideology that promoted abstaining from using alcohol, abusing, tobacco as well as looking down on casual or promiscuous sex. With Minor Threat, MacKaye and his friend created a standard for the hardcore genre (Blush 2001:150). Uninterested in the drug and alcohol fueled party atmosphere of early punk, the D.C. hardcore pioneers looked to something else to express themselves. Ian MacKaye recalls, “In D.C., we called ourselves 'Hardcore' to distinguish between us and the Sid Vicious kind. We were 'hard-core' punks; we weren't into the fashion as much as we were into the approach and intensity and urgency” (Ian MacKaye as quoted in Blush 2001:151). If it weren't for the urge to create a new punk style, hardcore may have never reached the size it has today. While the youthful energy of the roots of the hardcore movement were vital to its success, the age of participants also proved to be an obstacle, as musicians also needed money to try and create a scene. Class also played an important role in what the hardcore scene in the early 1980s looked like, as many hardcore pioneers came from upper-middle class families. Most hardcore musicians in D.C. came from wealthy suburban neighborhoods and attended, and networked at, private schools such as Georgetown Day School. As Blush argues “the Georgetown Punk,' born of privilege, displayed a vibe that reflected their pedigree. They lacked the despair of NY, SF, of LA but more than compensated with a fierce articulation of angst and alienation” (Blush 2001:154). The wealthier members of these bands 13 were able to afford instruments and amplifiers, and to record albums. The New York City hardcore scene was much less affluent than the scenes that grew out of D.C. or other suburban areas. Jack Rabid explains, “New York was different from LA and other places because the classic Hardcore convention of being from the suburbs wasn't true here. It was a bunch of poor kids... I think we in New York were authentic” (Jack Rabid as quoted in Blush 2001: 192). The members of the New York hardcore scene came from less wealthy families than those in D.C. and Boston, and the scene they created reflected this. Suburban hardcore anger often came from feeling trapped by their upper-class lifestyles, feeling oppressed by their parents and the authority figures making their decisions for them, while New York hardcore came from their feeling of being at the bottom of the barrel. Jimmy Gestapo, vocalist of New York hardcore band Murphy's Law, aruges “We're the people that get shit on the most. We're the people from middle-class families and see our parents get shit on. That's what New York Hardcore represents. We weren't rich kids” (Jimmy Gestapo as quoted in Blush 2001: 200). Jesse Malin, singer of the pivotal New York hardcore band, Heart Attack, explains further: “New York had a much more urban, dirty vibe to it, more connected to Punk” (Jesse Malin as quoted in Blush 2001: 192). New York City was also the home of punk rock in the United States, and produced bands like the Ramones and the New York Dolls. This style of punk was rooted in art and avant-garde, and the later generations of punk rock fans were resistant to what they saw as a lack of substance . Blush writes “Hardcore originated as a reaction of the artistic pretension that often is New York. And as New York differed from anywhere else in America, New York Hardcore differed from all other regional experiences” (Blush 2001:192). New York's hardcore scene came in two stages with two distinct styles. The first hardcore record from New York was released in 1981 with the 7” EP God is Dead from the band Heart Attack, and brought about the first wave of New York hardcore- based in what Blush describes as “Punk's endless possibilities empowered by a small free-for-all of open-minded misfit city 14 kids” (Blush 2001:192). Politically minded groups like Reagan Youth and the Undead from the first era of New York hardcore, though, would be considered more reflective of early punk compared to the second half. In 1984 with bands like the Cro-Mags and Agnostic Front, who promoted violence and militancy. Their version of hardcore is far more similar to what is considered modern day hardcore than their predecessors. Narrowing it Down: Philadelphia, Doylestown, and Lansdale “Home of Rocky, 'Broad Street Bullies' and some of America's most racially stratified neighborhoods-- ain't no 'City of Brotherly Love'” (Blush 2001: 285). Positioned right between active hardcore scenes like New York, D.C. and Boston, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania became a hub for a special brand of hardcore. Blush argues that “Everyone seeming so unsatisfied made Philly an ideal place for Hardcore. They lived in the stylistic shadows of New York to the north and D.C. to the south. As a Philly HC kid, Blacks and Whites both hated you, and cops wanted to kill you. Similar to urban squalor scenes like NY and SF, many Philly kids were crusty, drugged-out criminal types,” (Blush, 2001: 285). Similarly, Philadelphia scene member Nancy Barile feels that, “Philly truly epitomized the DIY ethic...we were all dirt poor and we realized that if we didn't do it ourselves, it wasn't going to happen,” (Blush 2001, 285). This strong DIY scene influenced the hardcore scenes that would develop outside of Philadephia in the 1990s. Inspired by the hardcore scene growing in Philadelphia, groups of hardcore fans in surrounding towns built their own scenes. One of these towns was Lansdale, Pennsylvania, which was a direct predecessor to the Doylestown hardcore scene. Dave Heck cites the beginning of Lansdale's punk and hardcore heyday as somewhere in the mid-1990s with a band called Soul Grind, and slightly later with a band of largely Doylestown musicians called Dysphoria. There was a closeness, right from the beginning, among the hardcore fans in the Lansdale and Philadelphia areas. Todd Cramer, a member of 15 the Philadelphia and Lansdale hardcore scenes since the 1980s explains “If you decided to be one of the kids dedicated to a subculture, you took on a certain amount of risk. You walking down a suburban street really made people uneasy, cops' mission was to harass us. And oddly a group of adults, or older kids may jump out of a truck and beat you up just for the sake of beating up a punk. With that risk, you kinda had a mutual respect for the other kids walking the same path. Knowing they were getting shit upon by the world the same way,” (Cramer, interview, 2014). Heck explains that the attitude of most Lansdale hardcore fans toward people was much more open minded than those in Doylestown, he describes it as “almost Hallmark like” (Heck, interview, 2014). Doylestown residents like drummer Jon Martello saw Lansdale's scene as an inspiration: I think I would attribute [the scene growing in Doylestown] a lot to the scene in Lansdale, because you had bands like Leavenworth and Inane and the Minor Times, a lot of bands came out of Lansdale. I think those bands coming and playing Doylestown helped influence us, because we'd go to those shows and come back in Doylestown and be like 'well, we could start a band too' (Martello, interview, 2014). Without Lansdale to pave the way, it seems, Doylestown may not have ever created a scene of its own. After venues closed, like they always do, and kids grew into adults and stopped going to shows, like they always do, Lansdale had to pass the torch. According to Heck, the scene in Doylestown fully took off on June 1st, 2002. Hardcore legends American Nightmare came to Doylestown to play OKCOMEONKIDS Festival at Lenape Middle School. Around 15 bands played that day. It was booked by Brett Naylor and Bob Meadows, and marked the beginning of what would become Staggered Works. The show was important, though, for more than just its impressive lineup, recalls Heck: “I think it was kind of a pop-off point. A lot of people met and networked then...a lot of people got really interested in things at that fest, maybe” (Heck, interview, 2014). Other than that one day event, the young hardcore fans of Bucks County had to make do with what they had: at one point they organized an unauthorized show in a Boston Market fast food restaurant in the center of town. Bob saw the excitement and energy in the hardcore fans in Doylestown, and formed Staggered Works as a way to organize their energy into something bigger. 16 Looking for a town to move to, my parents first visited Doylestown just after I was born. They joked that Doylestown was actually the set to a Disney movie and that in a few months some construction men were going to come and take it all down. Amidst all the 18 th and 19th century architecture stands two buildings you could easily call castles, built by our earliest wealthy eccentric, Henry Chapman Mercer. After a decrease in business after the 1980's, in 1992 the people of Doylestown start to put in extra effort to help their town flourish. Focusing on bringing in a large outof-town crowd and highlighting its possibilities as a tourist destination, the town received an official 'resort town' designation. This exempted the center of town from liquor license laws. Late night restaurants and bars began to open all over town. The National Trust for Historic Preservation notes that Doylestown “rivals many large cities such as Philadelphia with its world-class cultural facilities, elegant Victorian architecture, and historic attractions. Its commitment to the arts is exceeded only by its ingrained preservation ethic” (Quoted in Dolski, 2013). Siren Records has been a staple of Doylestown, a small, picturesque suburb in Southeastern Pennsylvania, since 1988. The store was owned by Blair Elliot, a beloved local with an extensive knowledge of all kinds of music and a love for bringing art to Doylestown. Siren had put on live shows at their earlier, and much smaller, location though they mostly stuck to acoustic and indie shows due to the size of the store. In late 2006 they moved to the second floor of a building on Main Street, above a marketplace and right in the middle of Doylestown's social sphere. The new location had a built-in stage and room for an audience of about 100. All they needed was someone with the know-how to book shows that could bring out large audiences. Enter Bob Meadows, the young, charismatic singer in the Philadelphia metal band A Life Once Lost. Bob had been booking shows since high school, using his parent's kitchen and backyard as venues. As his band became better known, he made connections with bigger and bigger acts, that required a real place to play. Bob's prior booking experience was unaffiliated with any company. But, 17 with the introduction of Siren as a steady venue, he decided to create a concrete company. The way Bob tells it “I don't want to say I hoaxed, but I sort of talked my way in with Blair.” Blair had no experience booking shows and Bob had connections around the country and Europe: “It was just one of those things that kind of worked out- I was able to utilize my skills, utilize the people that I knew to bring them to Doylestown to do shows” (Meadows, interview, 2014). In 2006, Staggered Works was born. The brainchild of both Blair and Bob, along with local visual artist Mike Wohlberg, Staggered Works aimed to bring bands to Doylestown. Bob explains that their main goal3 was to “book shows, bring bands here from around the world, and give them a different place to play from Philadelphia, New Jersey, New York, DC, and put another place on the map” (Meadows, interview, 2014). Despite Bob's long hair and tattoos, Staggered Works never intended to cater solely to fans of punk and metal. Indie rock, acoustic folk, hip hop, all types of bands found their way to Siren's stage. Given Bob's connections to the metal scene through his band and his lifelong association with the hardcore scene, most of the shows that brought out large crowds were generally in those genres. Every weekend, and sometimes during the week, different types of bands played and brought the young people of Doylestown together in ways we'd never experienced before. Bob explains that he felt Doylestown was the right place for Staggered Works because the young people there felt hungry, “There's nothing else going on for these kids to do, there's nowhere for them to go that's outside of a bar...I felt like Doylestown had that urge, this willingness to grow” (Meadows, interview, 2014). I grew up only a couple of blocks from Siren's old location. Nestled between my favorite place to buy candy and the used bookstore I would go on to work at, it was a frequent stop on my trips into the center of town. I knew they had started putting on shows in their new location down the street, and after a year of working in the used bookstore while in high school, I was looking to do more. A few 3 The other main goal was to start a record label, but that didn't pan out as well as the live shows. 18 conversations between my parents and manager Larissa Hopwood got me an introduction to Bob, who was looking for someone to help with promotion. We met one evening outside of the store, as a show raged on inside. I could hear the music coming through the windows, and there was a steady stream of fans going in and out of the store. Bob was looking for someone to post fliers for upcoming shows at businesses around town, and while he wouldn't pay me, I'd be able to get into any show I wanted to for free. At just shy of 15, this was the job offer of a lifetime. Prior to that, my experience in the punk scene was limited and my knowledge of hardcore was basically nonexistent. My introduction to punk came when I was ten years old when I watched the TV show “Freaks and Geeks.” In the episode “Noshing and Moshing,” James Franco's character- Daniel Desario, finds refuge from his chaotic home life and unhappy relationship through punk music. When Desario puts on his first punk record and listens to the track “Rise Above” by hardcore trailblazers Black Flag, his musical awakening also became my own. I reacted much like Franco's character: I was excited, awed, and felt that I had found the music that spoke to me, even before I had hit my teenage years. But unlike Desario, I avoided going to a punk show and getting my face pierced with a safety pin by a stranger in a Mohawk. Instead, I nearly forgot about my encounter with punk entirely. It wasn't until I started going to punk shows at the age of 13 that I heard that song again. The YMCA down the block from my house had a teen center where they put on shows a few times a month, most of which focused on punk and hardcore. I decided to explore after seeing the crowds of people outside and hearing the loud noises coming through the walls. I didn't know what to call the music I heard, but it was fun and energetic and people seemed to love it. Doylestown's music scene in 2005 was on the rise. The bands that played the earliest shows I attended are now considered influential parts of Pennsylvania's hardcore history. But it wasn't the music that really drew me in at first and made me stay. It was what I saw. There is an undeniable sense of community in hardcore. Show-goers get knocked down in the 19 mosh pit and complete strangers pick them up and dust them off. Fans wearing the same band's merchandise bond over their shared interests and people from all over make friends for life. More than any other genre of music I've seen, even ones with their own established communities like folk music, finding a fellow hardcore fan means you've found an instant ally. I wanted to understand what about this music bonds all of these people together. Hardcore had peaked my interest and I wanted to explore the genre. I became interested in modern hardcore when I started working at Staggered Works. I paid attention to the band tee-shirts my friends wore, the songs the people on stage covered, and the acts that brought out the largest, wildest crowds when they would get booked at Siren. The timing could not have been better. One second, I was googling Ray Cappo, the influential singer of hardcore bands Youth of Today, Shelter, and 108 because someone covered a Youth of Today song at a show and the next, I was helping book 108 at one of our venues. Seeing these bands perform live was crucial: hardcore recordings are one thing, live performances are a whole other world. The first show I worked at was in December of 2007, after six months of posting flyers around town. I was out with my parents when I got a phone call from Bob asking if I could come in to the store that night to help with a show. The internationally successful metal band the Dillinger Escape Plan was going to be headlining along with another metal group, Genghis Tron, and Bob's own band A Life Once Lost. The show was nearly sold out in pre-sale tickets alone, a rarity for Siren at this point. It was clear that the store would need reinforcements. I loved doing promotion and I wanted to get more involved in the actual shows. I said yes. Just walking into the store that night was exhilarating. Well before the doors were supposed to open, the store was abuzz with impatiently waiting fans and over a dozen community members and Siren employees who were preparing for the onslaught. My job was to stand at the back door of the store with the store manager, Larissa Hopwood, and let in the people who had reserved their pre- 20 bought tickets on will-call . The stream of people seemed endless and there was barely a moment to breathe, but I could tell right then that this was the job I wanted to do for as long as I could. After spending the first two sets taking money and ticking names off of a list, I was allowed to go enjoy Dillinger Escape Plan's set in the crowd. That night sold it for me. Being in the middle of this writhing, sweaty, excited crowd, at a live show of one of the most respected metal bands of its kind, as both a spectator and a worker, and knowing that I had helped make it happen was a feeling unlike any I had experienced before. I knew why people went to shows, I knew why people put on shows, and I knew I wanted to do both. At the end of the evening, I was eager to prove to Blair and Bob that I was someone they could count on to help out with shows in the future. After a show that big, there isn't much to do other than clean up, so that's what I did. Specifically, I cleaned the bathrooms. A few guys offered to “let me stay” in the bathroom while they used it, but other than that, even just filling trash bags with bloody tissues and crumpled up set lists, I was happier than I'd ever been. And from that night until Staggered Works' abrupt end in 2010, I worked at least two or three times a week doing anything that needed to get done. In 2008, due to a rent discrepancy Siren Records needed a new home, though it would likely be one that didn't allow for a stage. Area musicians, including my dad, Jay Ansill, and members of the Siren community produced a benefit CD to help raise funds for Siren to pay off a debt to the landlord and to find a new place. Siren found a new location only a block away from their old place, and Blair remained an active part of Staggered Works, but they would not put on another show for several years. At first, the Main Street Baptist Church replaced Siren as a venue.The church administrators grew concerned and saw Staggered Works as an insurance liability as fans had begun sneaking in and ringing the church bells. One 13 year old boy once climbed the outside of the church, and while he didn't get hurt, he very well could have. Luckily, that same year we found the Moose Lodge. Remember the Flinstones, when Fred was a member of a club called the Loyal Order of Water 21 Buffalos Lodge? That's the Moose Lodge in Doylestown, but with slightly less quirky yet still lovable characters who you'd only see in a cartoon. The Moose Lodge had been a social home for a fraternity for older men with a side club for their wives. It was a beautiful building: large, with a regal looking moose head on the front. I would come to really love the stench of stale beer that wafted up as you walked by the outside of the building. There was a large bar on the first floor, with space enough for a small stage. Upstairs was a ballroom with its own small bar and a “Governor's Lounge,” though we were never quite sure of what was supposed to happen in that room. More than Siren, and far more than the Church, the Moose Lodge's ballroom was a space we could call a home for Staggered Works. We were also able to expand as a business. On top of selling entry admissions to the show, we could also sell soda and snacks behind the small bar, plus, we had two rooms in which to do shows and for show-goers to hang out in between bands. The huge stage had an advanced sound system and there was room for over 300 people. And we were booking shows to fill all of that new space. By late 2008, Doylestown, and Staggered Works in particular, was firmly on the map when it came to its hardcore scene by this point. Everything was looking like a much more cohesive and successful community. Word had spread about the growing Doylestown hardcore scene. Bands were eager to play shows there, and the lineups we secured went well beyond the average local hardcore show. 22 Chapter 3 – Hardcore Youth, Living Drug Free The Straight Edge Movement Introducing Straight Edge In 1980, the hardcore band Minor Threat, from D.C., introduced “straight edge”, a concept that would eventually become its own subculture in hardcore. The basic tenant of straight edge is the intentional abstinence from drinking, smoking cigarettes and drug use. Some straight edge adherents also do not have casual or promiscuous sex4. Since then, veganism and a focus on animal rights have become a part of the straight edge movement, as well as wider definitions of what can be considered a drug – such as caffeine and Advil. Straight edge came about as a response to the often nihilistic, partycentric attitude of punk rock. According to Haenfler, the voices that would go on to form straight edge, saw the party-fueled rebellion of early punk as not rebellious at all (Haenfler 2006:8). He adds that many straight edgers felt that punks undermined their own resistance potential by living in a drug and alcohol induced haze. The fundamental values present in straight edge, once it had been solidified as an identifiable movement, are: positivity, clean living, lifetime commitment to the movement, self actualization, spreading the subculture's message, in many cases involvement in progressive causes, and occasionally reserving sex for caring relationships. The term was coined in the song “Straight Edge,” released on Minor Threat's first EP, “Minor Threat.” On their second EP, “In My Eyes” – which was released simultaneously with “Minor Threat” in 1981 – the song “Out of Step (With the World)” set the basics for what would become the straight edge rules with the lyrics “Don't smoke, don't drink, don't fuck, at least I can fucking think.” In a 1997 4 This is widely contested among the straight edge community. 23 interview, Minor Threat singer Ian MacKaye pointed out: “It was just the title of a song that I wrote, I guess I coined the phrase but certainly never intended to start a movement” (MacKaye interviewed by Gross, 1997). In the early 1980s in the D.C. hardcore scene, straight edge pioneers started to adopt the practice of drawing a large black “X” on their hands as part of a movement to get underage fans into hardcore shows. Many of the shows took place in bars, and D.C. law forbade people under 21 from entering a bar. There was also a law that required bars to sell food, which made them a restaurant rather than just a bar; and there was an argument to be made that underage people could not be prevented from entering a restaurant. Having recognized this loophole, the younger members of the hardcore scene convinced some club-owners to mark the underage kids with X's on their hands to differentiate them from those who were allowed to drink. Instead embarrassing the young show-goers with the “X”, they took it as a point of pride. Not only could they not drink, they didn't want to, and were glad to tell that to the world (Wood 2006:115-116). In 1985, Connecticut hardcore band Youth of Today helped solidify and expand straight edge into a legitimate movement. Robert T. Wood argues that, “Youth of Today helped galvanize the subculture into a more formally identifiable entity by communicating themes of pride, commitment, unity with other straightedgers and optimism about the power of youth “ (Wood 2006:112). Youth of Today was also recognized as the first hardcore band to bring animal rights and vegetarian/veganism into a large part of their music. In 1988 they released the song “No More” with the lyrics, “Meat eating flesh eating think about it/so callous to this crime we commit” (Cappo, 1988). Youth of Today's singer Ray Cappo also went on to front a handful of other hardcore bands, including Shelter, that explored Hare Krishna alongside straight edge and veganism (Wood 2006:55). Following similar lines of abstaining from drinking and doing drugs, as well as not eating meat, Hare Krishna works easily with the straight edge mindset (Wood 2006:55). While it was not very common in Doylestown, the music 24 formed around it, known as Krishna-core, was very popular, and Krishna bands like 108 played the Moose's stage. In the 1990s, this positive mindset associated with straight edge gave way to a more militant attitude. Rather than focusing exclusively on self-preservation, straight edge adherents placed emphasis on converting or intimidating people who didn't subscribe to their lifestyle. Militant straight edgers felt the same sense of pride and loyalty found in earlier waves of straight edge muic, but with a much less tolerant attitude toward those who were not straight edge- or worse those who were once and then abandoned the straight edge lifestyle. This era of straight edge continued the focus on animal rights and veganism, but in a far more militant way. In their 1993 song “Firestorm/Forged in the Flames,” militant group Earth Crisis sang, “Street by street/block by block/taking it all back/the youth's immersed in poison-- turn the tide counterattack/violence against violence/let the roundups begin/a firestorm to purify the bane that society drowns in” (Buechner, 1993). These lyrics exemplify the attitude of the militant era violence against the violence they perceived comes from drinking and drugs. Since the beginning of the 2000's, the straight edge community has become a blend of all of these different waves. Veganism and animal rights have remained prominent parts of straight edge and the discourse regarding what constitutes straight edge is ongoing. Militancy has not disappeared, but it has decreased since the 1990s, and straight edge is more popular than ever (Haenfler 2006:52-53). According to sociologists J. Patrick Williams and Heith Copes straight edge is populated mainly by white men, and to a lesser degree women, between the ages of 13 and 25 who came from moderately religious, middle-class families (Williams & Copes 2005:69-70). Robert Wood claims that male straight edgers outnumber women three to one (Wood 2006:104). Of the people I interviewed, only two had identified as straight edge at one point in their life, one was male and the other female, and neither considered themselves to be so anymore. Dave Heck was drug free his entire life and identified as straight edge as soon as he knew what it was, but had recently started using drugs at the 25 time that we spoke, at age 32 (Heck, interview, 2014). Shannon Hays was straight edge on and off in her youth, and now does not consider her self straight edge but still feels that the movement is important to her life (Hays, interview, 2014). People come to straight edge for a variety of reasons. Some are looking for a way to purify their body, avoiding the toxins that came with alcohol and drugs. Some want control over their lives. By saying “No” to the pressures that many of their peers give into, these straight edgers feel that they are taking responsibility for their lives in a way that others are not. Saying no to drugs and alcohol is very much in line with what most young people are taught by their parents and in their school, so this may not seem very rebellious. But for many people who chose to identify with straight edge, being sober was the ultimate act of resistance and rebellion against the mainstream, alcohol and tobacco fueled culture. As Ian MacKaye put it, “OK, fine, you take drugs, you drink, whatever...But obviously I have the edge on you because I'm sober; I'm in control of what I'm doing.” (MacKaye as quoted in Azerrad 2001, 136). For some people who choose to become straight edge, it just came naturally. Dave Heck, who was drug free until his early 30s and identified as straight edge for most of that time explained, “I kind of became straight edge by default, as a kid, because I never really did anything. So I was like, 'oh this is cool, this is a cool thing to be a part of' because I never thought drugs were something I was really into” (Heck, interview, 2014). And there were people who turned to straight edge as a response to the drug and alcohol abuse they had witnessed from their friends or family, or had experienced themselves. Shannon Hayes, a longtime member of the hardcore scene shared her story, I've gone both extremes. There's a lot of addiction in my family so when I was younger I got really militantly straight edge for a while, and that was really important to me at certain points in time in my life. And that was mainly because my mom's a heroin addict, my brother, my uncle, there's so much drugs [sic] and so much devastation from drugs in my family that it was either you become a drug addict or you become this other thing. So I wouldn't become like this I like very forcefully became this (Hayes, interview, 2014). 26 Symbolism in Straight Edge Straight edgers have a number of ways to publicly identify themselves as straight edge, through their clothes and even on their own skin, using symbols and catchy phrases to mark themselves. The most common symbol is the trademark “X”. Incorporated into clothing designs, tattoos, and band names, and often drawn in big thick Sharpie'd lines on the hands of many show-goers, the X is the single easiest way to identify someone as being straight edge. Early examples of fans drawing X's on their hands with black markers before entering shows were documented on a 48 Hours television special on straight edge in 1995; additionally another documentary, Strife: One Truth Live, documented the practice. Many straight edgers choose to include X's on their tee-shirts, sweatshirt, and even shoes. The most extreme devotees tattoo X's on their hands, across their stomachs, or on other visible parts of their bodies. Some bands include the “X” in their band names such as the Australian band Lionheart XXX. Some bands also took to using the “X” as part of their logo. New York hardcore band Judge uses two judge's gavels crossed over each other in an X, and Boston's Slapshot similarly uses an image of crossed hockey sticks. Using the X went beyond publicly identifying oneself as a member of the straight edge community: it also has become part of the identity itself. Wood compares a lifetime dedication to straight edge to a sort of crucifixion. He cites lyrics from the band Earth Crisis, from their song “Forged in the Flames”, “Through the veil of shadows,the light of truth is my only guide/A knight unyielding, to the X I'm crucified.” (Earth Crisis, 1993). Another way straight edgers display their straight edge-ness is through catch-phrases on their clothing. Some slogans simply lay out the basics of what straight edge is – like “Poison Free”, “One Life Drug Free,” or “Drug Free Youth.” Some highlight that straight edge is meant to be a lifetime commitment: “True til Death” and “If You're Not Now, You Never Were” are commonly seen on clothing or shouted at shows. These slogans function as a way for straight edgers to identify themselves 27 out in the world, to differentiate themselves from people who are not straight edge, and to identify themselves to those who are. They also help hone in on the behaviors that define straight edge. They work as a way to disseminate straight edge beliefs to the uninformed, and to those who are just discovering straight edge. Because straight edge does not have official membership, slogans are a useful way to solidify straight edge as an concrete collective identity. Straight Edge in Doylestown I had been vaguely aware of straight edge before I started working at Staggered Works. I had seen the trademark X on the clothes and skin of people at the few hardcore shows I'd been to. I knew that even though the shows got rowdy, most of the people there were surprisingly not drunk or high. But it wasn't until I started working with Staggered Works that I was officially introduced to the straight edge community – both worldwide and as it existed in Doylestown. Aaron, an employee who'd work with me at the front door at Siren Records, was openly straight edge and taught me about this music and lifestyle. Other than Aaron, the employees at Staggered Works liked to get drunk or high before, after, or even during shows. That said the Doylestown scene overall had a very large and influential straight edge community. My own experience with straight edge came in December of 2007, right before I officially started helping out at shows and was still putting up flyers for Bob. I had stopped by a show at Siren, featuring deathcore5 band Whitechapel. I began browsing the tables by the stage that showcased merchandise from the bands. Among the flashy looking band logos and violent images, a simple black crew neck sweatshirt stuck out to me. In gold block letters the sweatshirt read “Drug Free XXX.” Suddenly all I wanted was to display that message proudly on my body, though it was never a sentiment I'd had any connection to in the past. At the time, I was not an active drug user, and I never had an 5 A a combination of death metal and hardcore 28 interest in drinking, but I didn't consider myself entirely substance free. For some reason, I made the decision to buy the sweatshirt and “claim” straight edge as my own. My reasons for wanting to associate with straight edge mostly had to do with wanting to be part of a community within hardcore, rather than trying to keep myself clean. I had friends going down dangerous paths of drinking and drug use. It worried me, but none of them had died – not yet. I had no interest in following the same path but my fear of drinking and heavy drugs kept my experimentation at bay. What really enticed me was what I saw as a built-in family within straight edge. Ross Haenfler quotes straight edger Brian, who explains how straight edge is a source of community bonding: I think mostly sXe6 brotherhood [means] we have something in common right away. The instant we meet we have something in common. Right there it gives us one up on someone else. That's huge, that's a lifestyle. It's not just like 'Oh, you like hockey too?' it's a lot more than that (Brian as quoted in Haenfler 2006:792). This connection and acceptance between straight edgers felt to me like an example of what hardcore was supposed to be all about. I didn't remain straight edge for very long. That degree of commitment was not how I liked to live my life. But that experience of closeness was something I sought out in hardcore for years to come. Straight edge was very popular in the Doylestown hardcore scene. Many local musicians identified as straight edge and at least five local bands billed themselves as a straight edge band. When larger bands like Have Heart performed and promoted their straight edge ideals in that performance, I could always feel an extra level of engagement and passion from the crowd. From what I heard and saw, the general attitude of straight edgers in Doylestown could be hateful to those who chose not to abide with the straight edge lifestyle. With song titles like “Drinking is Bullshit” and lyrics as extreme as “I sit around and count the days until you die in a drug-filled haze,” Let Down's music personified 6 Shorthand for straight edge 29 the negative atmosphere of Doylestown straight edge. Another, notably harsh straight edge band, Agitator, released songs like “Natural Selection” which celebrates the death of a drunk driver as an act of survival of the fittest. Because the Moose Lodge was a bar and because Staggered Works employees were largely frequent drug and alcohol users, straight edgers had to be relatively tolerant about beliefs being challenged at shows. There were few conflicts between straight edge show-goers and people who stood outside smoking cigarettes or brought the occasional drink into the venue. But still, there were always stories of some straight edge performer knocking someone's beer out of their hand during a set, or groups of people going out to fight drunks in town when the shows let out. Those who were once straight edge but who have since separated themselves from this movement were frequent targets of straight edge anger. Referred to as “selling out” or “breaking edge,” those who turned to drinking or drugs after having once considered themselves straight edge were often subject to scorn and occasionally violence at the hands of those who were still straight edge. The straight edgers considered themselves stronger than those who used to be (Haenfler 2006:41-42). When members of the Doylestown straight edge community broke edge, it was talked about for weeks. There were posts about it on message boards and rumors flying about how they'd ruined their lives. Further, around 2007, a band called Force Fed wrote a song that publicly denounced a former friend who had gone on to break edge. While this sort of animosity is common, and certainly the most talked about reaction, it is not always like that. Shannon, who identified as straight edge several times during her life, explained that when she came back to hardcore after having her own negative experiences with drugs and addiction, the community were still welcoming and provided her with a safe, supportive community: “When I started to get clean again and get my life back together, the scene was still there and I got a lot of support there...Like I eff'd [sic] up and was out of the scene for a long time and just fucking up my life, but when I was ready to come back it was open doors and support.” (Hays, 30 interview, 2014). For Shannon, having the straight edge community there to catch her when she fell was crucial to her being able to get and stay clean: Luckily, when really bad stuff started happening I was like, 'Woah' and really went back to my roots. Like, 'This is what this is doing to your life. Maybe you weren't wrong when you were younger, maybe you didn't need to be so militant about it or hard on yourself but still,' it was good to have ideals to go back on...So I think it made it easier. I had knowledge and inspiration and a place to go back to. And I think that helped a lot (Hays, interview, 2014). Straight Edge and Masculinity An investment in straight edge is also rooted in the hypermasculinity that is also commonly found in hardcore scenes. According to Haenfler, “sXe seeks to redefine masculinity within a primarily masculine context – the movement encourages personal responsibility, self-control, and masculine camaraderie” (Haenfler 2006:108). Sociologist Michael Kimmel argues that men who felt they were losing control most parts of their lives like personal relationships and their work often exercised extreme control over their self and their personal lives. He writes The drive for control, for order, stems from experiencing the world as disordered, as out of control... Where many could never attain the self-made manhood of success, middle class masculinity pushed egotism to extremes of aggression, calculation, self-control and unremitting effort. The Self-Made Man was a control freak (Kimmel 1996:44-45). Control over one's body and surroundings is central to the straight edge ethic, straight edger Alec explains: “We live in a world where we have no control. I just can't imagine surrendering any more control, even for a moment” (Alec as quoted in Haenfler 2006:122). Straight edge and hardcore ideals of masculinity and strength which are starkly different from those of mainstream society. Any alcohol advertisement on television will tell you that drinking will make you more of a man, and any men's magazine on the shelf show sexuality as a venue for men to be in their most dominant position. But in straight edge, alcohol use and sexual promiscuity are not viewed this way, but are rather seen as weak, as giving in to society's standards for men. For straight edgers like Kevin it is the abstinence that is strong: In an interview, he recalled 31 My first understanding of sXe was to not be addicted. I looked around and realized I was addicted to things, and it pissed me off. Everybody in the world, they weren't even living their own lives. They were living to satisfy addictions. They drink a beer to satisfy that addiction, they smoke a cigarette to satisfy that addiction, they hit on some stupid whore in a bar to satisfy that addiction. Their whole lives they weren't even actually living their own lives, they were just going from one moment of addiction to something to the next moment of addiction to something else. They never even lived their own lives. They were just like satisfying every urge that drove them like it was out of their hands (Kevin as quoted in Haenfler 2006:123). Boston hardcore musician James Elgin explains that felt similarly that participating in a culture of drinking was not a sign of strength: “I don't believe in that weakness. I don't believe in the whole ethics of 'I had a hard work week, I really deserve this drink, or I really deserve these drugs,” (James, as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). By refusing to drink, abuse drugs, or have casual sex, straight edgers often felt that they were stronger than the other men in society – thereby making them the most manly. 32 Chapter 4 – Not Just Boys' Fun Hardcore and Gender Masculinity The constructions of masculinity within hardcore are important to the exploration of the identity of a hardcore fan. Aspects of hardcore, it could be argued, arose as a response to a feeling of decreasing room for masculinity within mainstream society. Sociologist Lauraine Leblanc argues, As they are in any other numerically male-dominated youth subcultures, punk's codes and norms are heavily masculine. A number of subcultural theorists have argued that males create youth subcultures in order to satisfy their need to express, affirm, and celebrate masculinity...Thus, the numerical dominance of males in these subcultures is only the tip of the iceberg – these subcultures are indeed specifically constructed to be hypermasculine in order to compensate for perceived challenges to working-class boys' masculinity in mainstream culture (Leblanc 1999:106-107). Members of the hardcore scene, in particular those who identified as straight edge, saw their participation in terms of strength, honor, and discipline. Their interactions with other hardcore fans and straight edgers were grounded in the context of a brotherhood, as reflected in Leblanc's statement. From what I saw in Doylestown, many of the people who began attending hardcore shows did so to find a brotherhood that they had been missing. Haenfler explains, “In theory, punks oppose the norms and values of mainstream culture. In practice, punks adopt many of the gender codes and conventions of mainstream adolescent culture” (Haenfler 2006:103-104). One of the most prominent conventions male hardcore fans have reiterated has been the role of men as dominant and in charge of the scene. Sociologist Michael S. Kimmel explains that manhood is constantly changing. It is a collection of ways in which men construct their relationships with the world around them and with themselves. 33 He argues: Manhood is neither static nor timeless. Manhood is not the manifestation of an inner essence; it's socially constructed. Manhood does not bubble up to consciousness from our biological constitution; it is created in our culture (Kimmel 1996:5). The presentation of masculinity in hardcore is not entirely produced in the mainstream world and engrained in the heads of participants long before they ever entered the scene, but rather it is something that can change and be built and influenced by the attitudes of the participants in the hardcore scene. While there are many ways to present one's manhood in modern society, the most dominant – which is also the most relevant to its place in hardcore – is known as hegemonic masculinity. The phrase was offered by sociologist Raewyn Connell who defines it as: “The configuration of gender practice which embodies the currently accepted answer to the problem of the legitimacy of patriarchy, which guarantees (or is taken to guarantee) the dominant position of men and the subordinate position of women” (Connell 1995:77). According to Connell, hegemonic masculinity values such things as competition and hierarchy, individualism, sexual prowess, physical toughness, rationality and emotional distance, dominance, aggression, and risk-taking. All of these traits are prominent features in hardcore music and the hardcore fan mentality The only exception to this may be sexual prowess, as straight edgers in the hardcore scene may choose not to engage in sexual activities outside of a committed relationship. And as with the demographic in hardcore, the ideal hegemonic masculinity fits best for heterosexual, middle class, white males (Haenfler 2006:104). There was a lot of potential for the inclusion of women in the early days of punk. Sociologist Jamie L. Mullaney explains that, “Promoted as an open scene, punk afforded women the chance to move from backup singers to musicians and from groupies to participants” (Mullaney 2007:385). Gillian Gaar feels similarly that punk offered women a space to create their own opportunities and a motivation to do so (Gaar 1992:272). Sociologist Mary Ann Clawson mirrors these sentiments, and while she is speaking specifically about the punk scene in the United Kingdom, her point is relevant to 34 the punk scene in the United States as well: Punk created cultural as well as practical openings. For a music predicated on the spirit of transgression, the very presence of women-- and especially of women who violated mainstream norms of feminine appearance and self-presentation-- could be a major means of disrupting the cultural status quo (Clawson 1999,195). In the early years of punk, musicians like Patti Smith and Joan Jett of the Heartbreakers took the stage alongside their male counterparts. It was not long before their work became overshadowed, though, and their influence on the early punk scene has become less documented than male musicians. By the early 1980's, punk music began evolving into different styles, a large selection of which drifted toward the faster and more aggressive hardcore sound. The attitudes of the fans followed suit. This change in atmosphere influenced the gender make-up of the bands and the crowds. Singer of early hardcore band Minor Threat Ian MacKaye as says about this shift, “I started to notice this drift – women at the front of the stage drifting towards the back...and eventually out of the fucking room” (MacKaye as quoted in Lahickey, 108). While many women separated from the hardcore scene and started to create their own music – for example the Riot Grrl movement – some refused to be alienated from their own music scene. The women who remained were soon demoted to virtual second class status. Many women at hardcore shows had their identities stripped from them and were fit into what the men in the scene deemed to be socially acceptable roles – “the boy-wanna-be” or “the submissive girlfriend” (Haenfler 2006:132). Maggie, a hardcore fan and aspiring hardcore singer feels that her gender is an obstacle in her ability to fully participate in the scene: It kind of sucks. Bands always say, 'Yay, the girls! Blah, blah, blah.” But we're really not as involved. No one wants to hear a girl singer, which sucks, 'cause I really want to sing in a band..It doesn't really help that I'm so little...but no one will let me up front. Even my friends. No matter how much they say it. 'We love you Maggie! You're such an awesome girl.' They don't really notice...Our voice isn't as loud. We're not as strong 'cause there's not as many of us...Being a girl in the scene kind of sucks but it's good enough to stick around 'cause I have a lot of fun (Maggie as quoted in Haenfler 2006:135). Clawson explains that women's participation in punk and related genres became more concentrated by 35 the 1980s and involved different forms of self-presentation: “A 'one-of-the-boys' look as opposed to the more assertively bizarre look of British Punk-- and tended to take the form of women's minority membership in predominantly male bands” (Clawson 1999:195). And those who did find a way to be a more active participant in the scene were generally forced into jobs deemed less desirable by the men. Lauraine Leblanc notes: “It's almost as though being punks kept us from being girls, or at least typical girls” (Leblanc 1999:135). Leblanc calls this position “trebled reflexivity,” whereby female punk fans are neither punks nor girls but always a third position of “punk girls” (Leblanc 1999: 160). The submissive girlfriend role was usually the most acceptable, recalls one hardcore fan named Dawn: “If you were the sort of girl that they [hardcore fans] wanted to go out with, then you were accepted. But, even then, they thought you were going to hold their coats at the back.” (Dawn as quoted in Wood, 2006: 77). In fact, Haenfler references the term “coat rack” many times as a name for women who came to shows and were delegated to stand in the back of the venue and hold the men's stuff while they participated. This was common in the Doylestown hardcore scene, recalls Bob Meadows: “Women in the scene were treated like objects, not as people. A lot of the guys in the scene were just getting their nut off...Not treating them like humans or treating them like equals,” (Meadows, interview, 2014). Doylestown hardcore musician and community organizer Dave Heck has been an outspoken supporter of women in the Philadelphia and surrounding hardcore scenes for many years. He feels that the treatment of women in hardcore was a more concentrated reflection of what was happening in mainstream society: “I think that most people learn that whole misogynistic view of things, that's just part of Western culture really, hardcore's not exempt from it” (Heck, interview, 2014). Heck explains that he saw women in the scene treated very differently when he first entered the scene, but that things had changed in recent years: There wasn't that many females around, so at that time the females were looked after. It was usually someone's sister, or brother's girlfriend, or someone that was hanging around and if they broke up they still hung around, and you know we really very much looked out for each other. 36 And things change, times change... You know, the Internet really did fuck everything up. I think the concept of the whole nudes [the act of electronically sending naked photos to another person] thing really took everything and snowballed it times like 4,000 and I think that was a huge step. A whole generation of kids saw, 'Oh, well that's just acceptable now,' and we were desensitized to it at that point (Heck, interview, 2014). As in most male-dominated music scenes, women in hardcore are objectified and excluded, and had to work much harder than men to fit into the community. Women who want to cross the boundary from fan to active participant in the scene also have trouble gaining equal treatment and access. Men not only outnumber women attending shows, they have a near monopoly on the music – and therefore the rhetoric of hardcore. Mullaney notes that if a woman was able to make steps towards being more involved in the hardcore scene, they were left to fill positions deemed less desirable by men. In Doylestown, women were most commonly photographers which involved being on the stage but not actually part of the music. Being on stage taking photos during the entire show also prevented one from being able to go out on the floor and be noticed in the mosh pit. It was an important and occasionally flashy job, but not one entirely sought after. Women are also sent to the back of the room to sell merchandise for bands, once again preventing them from playing a truly active role in the music. Some women were able to make the leap from worker to performer, but even then, gender norms prevailed. Mary Ann Clawson explores the phenomenon of women's overrepresentation in electric bass, arguing that, “The entrance of women into rock bands via the bass may provide them with new opportunities and help legitimate their presence in a male-dominated site of artistic production, yet it may simultaneously work to reconstruct a gendered division of labor and reproduce dominant gender ideologies” (Clawson 1999:193). The generally accepted reason that women lean toward playing the bass, is due to its perceived ease of learning. Clawson notes that many of the women that she spoke with began learning rock instruments later in life than the men she spoke to. She explains that because many women may have started learning music at an older age, playing the bass offered them a quick 37 and simple way to enter a world that had otherwise excluded them (Clawson 1999:202). This phenomenon, according to Clawson, is rooted in the queuing theory of occupational sex segregation, as articulated by Barbara F. Reskin and Patricia A. Roos. Rather than pushing men out, women gain access to jobs that men have already begun to abandon: however these jobs are seen as attractive to women in comparison to jobs that are available to them within feminized sectors of the labor market (Clawson 1999:199). In rock music, men abandoned the bass an attractive instrument because guitar is seen as the most technically demanding and the drums represent the power and strength of the group – characteristics that are seen as more masculine than those associated with the presumably less difficult electric bass. According to Clawson, “The star status of the guitar is conflated with its gendered character. If the rock band is, as a unit, a masculinizing institution, then its most visible and flamboyant instrument, the electric guitar, is understood as the masculine instrument par excellence” (Clawson 1999:201). Before the start of punk, women were nearly exclusively associated with individual vocal performance and their opportunities and achievements as musicians have been disproportionately concentrated in pop, folk, and R&B – genres that highlight vocal performance. In contrast, rock music according to Clawson, “Identifies the entire band as its ideal creative and performing unit” (Clawson 1999:195). She adds that “Because instrument playing is so strongly linked to notions of rock creativity, the traditional restriction of women to the role of vocalist, while found in most American pop genres, is especially disempowering in music,” (Clawson 1999:195). Mullaney asserts that this sort of specialization “Results in [the] positive addition of more women musicians but at the continued cost of a new women's specialty that gets reinforced and naturalized by the existing gender order” (Mullaney 2007:387). As women began to participate musically in rock and alternative genres, it wasn't long before they were fit into roles that not only created a new set of gender norms, but also roles that men saw as less appealing. 38 In many cases, men scrutinized the intentions of women who entered the hardcore scene, and straight edge in particular. I often heard claims that women had started coming to shows because their boyfriend dragged them there or because they were searching for a man to date. Women generally had to work harder to prove themselves as authentic hardcore fans. Straight edger Alison explains “It has definitely forced me to extend myself where I think guys don't have to go a lot of the time. Its made me have to be a lot louder in my voice” (Alison as quoted in Wood 2006:78). Women generally had to work extra hard to prove that they belonged in the hardcore scene and that they were there for what members in the scene considered to be the right reasons – that is to appreciate the music and support the community. One of the ways women, and any hardcore fan, can show that they deserve to be in the scene is through displays of “hardness,” or toughness. The idea of being “hard” is directly linked to ideas surrounding masculinity. Hardness is generally associated with sexual prowess, as Mullaney points out, “Common discourse on sexual performance conflates hardness with masculine power and control to a degree that an 'impotent man, one who cannot get a hard-on, is weak'” (Mullaney 2007:398). She goes on to explain that due to the sexual abstinence of many straight edgers, and the lack of sexuality as a driving force in hardcore, fans must display their hardness in other ways. Femininity is seen as a bad thing for women who want to be a part of the hardcore scene to demonstrate. Shannon Hays felt that her lack of visible femininity helped her avoid many of the risks of being a woman in hardcore: I'm not overly feminine, I mean I am feminine, I'm not butch or anything, but I'm also not a delicate little flower. I've always been kind of hard. I did not grow delicate, I grew up in kind of a tough way. So I didn't act like a dumb girl, so for the most part I didn't get treated like a dumb girl...I haven't experienced it as much as other people have, because I think I look mean. I was never little and cute (Hays, interview, 2014) Many women choose to display hardness through moshing with the men. As in any other aspect of their participation in hardcore, women were held to a different standard when dancing. Woman dancing at shows and rarely actually brings about true acceptance and equality. Some men see women 39 who dance as more manly, stripped of their perceived femaleness. Dawn explains, “If you were dancing and stuff, like they almost thought it was really gross, like icky, like you were a brute or something” (Dawn as quoted Wood 2007:77). One the other hand, Mullaney observes that some men view women who display hardness as objects of attraction rather than equal participants to the men (Mullaney 2007:399-400). I often heard hardcore girls, especially those who identified as straight edge, referred to as unicorns – beautiful, highly sought after, and allegedly very rare. Only occasionally would a woman who chose to mosh be treated as a fair player alongside the men in the mosh pit. And most often, their presence even close to the mosh pit was called into question. Shannon recalled for me how the last hardcore show she went to, at the First Unitarian Church featuring the band Bane, she and her female friend were presumed by a stranger at the show to not be aware of what would happen at a hardcore show: “Me and Kristina were there and this guy turned and was like, 'Yeah sometimes it gets a little crowded and crazy in here, ladies.'” Hays explained that while she knew he was simply trying to be thoughtful and start a conversation with them, she felt it was patronizing for him to assume that she and her female friend would not be prepared for what was to come (Hays, interview, 2014). The result of this exclusion and the standard of toughness that comes with being a respected participant in the hardcore scene is important to the construction of masculinity in hardcore – that is, the seeking out of male-only, or homosocial, situations as a form of bonding and strengthening the male domination within a community. Kimmel (1996) explains that as the rise of industrialization brought increased competition in the workplace, and as the masculine and feminine spheres became increasingly separate, men began to turn to male-only social settings such as sporting events and exclusive clubs – places akin to Doylestown's Moose Lodge. Kimmel notes that at these social events “Male intimacy would be threatened by the integration of women” because they serve to help men resist the perceived feminization of men by women, as well as an escape from the workplace (Kimmel 1996:311). 40 Crews While a large portion of hardcore is rooted in brotherhood and unity, the homosocial aspect of it is also found among hardcore “crews.” In hardcore, a crew is generally similar to a clique, and in extreme cases could be considered a gang. Hardcore crews are most often based in a specific geographic location, are by invitation only, and members most often demonstrate their inclusion in the crew through slogans and symbols on their clothes or tattooed on their bodies. According to Haenfler, these groups represent the most exclusive side of straight edge, and hardcore in general, and are some of the most prominent examples of hegemonic masculinity in the scene. The idea of brotherhood seemed natural to many members of the hardcore scene that associated with crews, such as Bruce, a member of a particularly violent and notorious Boston based crew, Friends Stand United – also known as FSU. Bruce explains, in a documentary about the gang, “Why wouldn't we gravitate to each other when we have the same, basically oppression that we bare on our shoulders every day?” (Bruce, “Gangland” 2008). While many crews were just groups of likeminded friends who attended shows together and stood up for each other (which would occasionally lead to a fight or too), others took things to more violent extremes. While there have been a number of hardcore based crews, such as Courage Crew in Cleveland, Ohio, the first hardcore crew to be officially identified as a gang by the police force was Friends Stand United. FSU was formed in Boston in the late 1980s by hardcore punk fan and former law student Elgin James. James had come from an abusive household and turned to hardcore and punk as a way to escape the pain he experienced at home. One night James and a few of his friends attacked and robbed a drug dealer. Feeling that they had done a service to the Boston community, they began to do it more regularly, defending their actions by saying they weren't beating up or robbing the general public, only drug dealers: “We weren't robbing the old lady on the street, we were robbing from the guy who was 41 selling drugs to the old lady's son the street” (James as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). Head of the Philadelphia FSU chapter, Joe “Hardcore” McKay, saw things similarly: “I'm not out there snatching purses, I'm not out there trying to fuck up their kids' heads with drugs, I'm not trying to pimp out their daughters. We're building brothers” (McKay as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). In the late 1980s, groups of neo-Nazis started showing up to local hardcore shows, and fighting everyone around them. After a particularly violent fight where the hardcore kids came out on top despite being outnumbered by the neo-Nazis, James decided it was time to organize with the purpose of cleaning up the scene (“Gangland” 2008). James named his crew “Fuck Shit Up” which soon became more commonly known as Friends Stand United “We call ourselves Friends Stand United because we don't disperse and we watch each other. Other friendships aren't like that” (James as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). Before too long, as FSU became a more diffuse movement, their ideals became muddled. Many members of FSU were militantly straight edge, so by the mid 1990s, FSU members were attacking anyone they didn't agree with, not just drug dealers and neo-Nazis. Just smoking a cigarette outside of a show put someone at risk for being beaten, sometimes even killed. The FSU name had started to spread to other cities in the Northeast, including Philadelphia, PA. The hardcore and punk scenes in Philadelphia were overrun with neo-Nazi skinheads, and members of the scene had long been using violence to keep them out. Joe “Hardcore” McKay, a prominent member of the Philadelphia scene recalls: “In Pennsylvania you had the Hammerskins, in Jersey you had the Atlantic City Skinheads. Some serious guys that had to be fought,” (McKay as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). Todd Cramer, from Lansdale, Pennsylvania, has been attending shows since the 1980s and recalls all the neo-Nazis: I got beat up by skinheads at the Trocadero [a Philadelphia venue] and it was a wake up call for me – skinheads were at every show now. They were the gangs, the crews, that we were not. 30 of my friends would not touch 10 skins trowing their weight around. Skins were always around...Never bad enough not to go, but you had to put up with the skins (Cramer, interview, 2014). 42 When the Philadelphia hardcore fans met the Boston FSU members, in the beginning of the 2000s, it was an instant connection, “We met some Boston bands and were like 'you guys are just like us!' You know, when you've got that kindred spirit,” (McKay as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). When McKay and James finally met in 2004, James described it as just like looking in a mirror. The two cities quickly joined forces and FSU started to take over hardcore scenes across the world. The members of Friends Stand United see themselves as a family, and always speak about their crew in terms of brotherhood. FSU member, Lolo, explained that when it came to his crew brothers: “No matter what time of day or night, you can call on them and you've got someone there for you. We're all equal. We're...all the same” (Lolo as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). Joe spoke to a similar attitude among the crew, ”How many of your guy friends tell you they love you? We do” (McKay quoted in Binelli, 2007). The loyalty that came with the feeling of family in FSU also extended to how they fought in the mosh pit and outside at shows, according to James: “We had this code and we're gonna follow it no matter what. You're fighting more than for your life, you're fighting for your best friends, you're fighting for your brothers” (James as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). In fact, to some, the fighting was a central part to how the members of FSU bonded, Aaron Faulls, a bouncer at a hardcore club remembers, “Nobody needs to jump in, all those guys are able to take care of the situation by themselves. It's a statement of loyalty. It's friends standing united. That's what it is” (Faulls as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). While FSU may have been formed with the intention of making the scene a safer and cleaner place for fans, it is the violence perpetuated by members that has become their legacy. The first time law officials, and the mainstream public, became aware of Friends Stand United and their associated violence, came in 2004 with the release of the documentary film Boston Beatdown: See the World Through Our Eyes – Volume II. This documentary included footage of rowdy shows and violent fights 43 between show-goers and FSU members and included interviews from Boston bands and fans (Morris, “Boston Beatdown” 2004). Not long after, FSU caught the attention of the police once again, being found in connection with a series of deaths across the country. The first came in February of 2005, at the Hudson Duster, a club frequented by hardcore fans in Troy, New York. A fight broke out during a show featuring the hardcore band 25 Ta Life, during which 36 year old Matthew Carlo was beaten to death by six men associated with FSU. A 25 year old FSU member and local bouncer was charged with and pleaded guilty to negligent homicide, for elbowing and kicking Carlo in the head, and five other men tied to the fight were arrested under gang-related charges – setting a precedent of Friends Stand United to be seen officially as a gang under the law. The second death was later the same year, in December 2005, all the way across the country. A fight broke out during a set by hypermasculine and notoriously violent hardcore band Shattered Realm at Skrappy's, a youth center in Tuscon, Arizona. The fight moved from inside the venue to out in the parking lot, where FSU members retrieved weapons they had waiting in their cars, presumably prepared for just such an encounter. After hitting a Skrappy's regular over the head with a hammer, 27 year old FSU member Ray “Hairy Darrin” Pierson was shot and killed by a handgun (Binelli, 2007). The third death occurred in January of 2007, and catapulted Friends Stand United to the front page news, even making the cover of Rolling Stone in June of that year. The night of the attack there was a hardcore show at Club Deep, a small squat and concert venue, in Asbury Park, New Jersey. The show featured Boston formed bands Ramallah and Colin of Arabia. Wisdom in Chains, a hardcore band from Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania also played. Wisdom in Chains also had a close connection with the Philadelphia hardcore scene and Joe McKay himself. Hardcore fan James Morrison and a group of his friends made the trip to Asbury Park for the show, and even just as they arrived there was a sense that something could go wrong. Morrison's friend Charlie recalls, “We were getting stared at by everyone in the place. You could tell we were outsiders. I told the guys 'Listen, you gotta watch yourselves. Don't 44 have words with anybody” (Charlie as quoted in Binelli, 2007). According to witnesses, shortly after Morrison and his friends arrived, a fight broke out in the venue wherein Morrison was repeatedly hit with a bar stool, stomped in the chest, and when he finally escaped the room, was struck with brass knuckles by FSU member Alex Franklin. Morrison was left unconscious and unresponsive on the sidewalk, and was pronounced dead within a half hour of being discovered by the police. It was revealed later that the fight had been over a shirt depicting the Confederate flag flying over the Capitol accompanied by the phrase “I HAVE A DREAM” worn by one of Morrison's friends (Binelli, 2007). Franklin, a popular member of FSU and local tattoo artist, confronted the man, insisting that he take the shirt off. Morrison's friend refused, and Franklin threw a punch, which caused Morrison to rush to his friend's rescue. Within seconds, Franklin's FSU brothers swarmed and the fight ensued. Franklin was arrested three weeks after the fight, and charged with manslaughter, as he was the first to throw a punch and it was his blow to Morrison's head that was deemed the fatal hit. Despite this violence, members like Joe McKay maintain the belief that Friends Stand United are not an inherently violent or dangerous group. Joe argues, In reality, what is FSU? It's a bunch of guys who go to shows. If you fuck with these guys in a real bad way, you're going to get your ass kicked. If you're a Nazi, you're gonna get one. Otherwise, chances are we're just like you. We're not Boy Scouts or fixing old people's homes. But we're not shooting people on the corner either. We're kicking some peoples' asses at shows and getting into a little bit of trouble (Joe McKay as quoted in Binelli, 2007). But while groups like FSU and Courage Crew are popular in hardcore scenes, many fans not associated with them feel that they are making the scene a more dangerous place, rather than a safer one. Hardcore fan Jason explains, You'd leave every show bruised, maybe even a little bit bloody. But until the crews started showing up at every show, I never felt concerned for my safety. With FSU, everyone's scared to get a glass of water for fear of bumping into somebody. Or you're making sure you're not talking to the wrong girl. The violence used to be a lot more indiscriminate. But with these guys, it's a perverted sense of family, and they're just looking for any excuse to protect their family and gang up on people (Jason as quoted in Binelli, 2007). 45 The members of Friends Stand United demonstrated their toughness even after the fights they engaged in. In a twisted example of the do-it-yourself (also known as DIY) ethic so common in hardcore and punk, Elgin James and his crew even went so far as to treat their wounds themselves. FSU members often refused to go to the hospital, most likely in fear of being questioned about their injuries. Instead took care of their own injuries, using whatever they had at their disposal to treat themselves. For example, Elgin explained that, “I'd be the one sewing them up. First surgery I'd ever done was stitching my stomach up with dental floss” (James as interviewed in “Gangland” 2008). In a scene in the documentary film Boston Beatdown, viewers see Elgin tend to a cut on his own face using a needle and thread, which at one point gets stuck in his skin – but he doesn't flinch once (Morris, Boston Beatdown, 2004). Though Joe denounces any official ties with FSU anymore, he runs the Philadelphia scene much like a gang. Most hardcore scenes consist of many promoters putting on shows, not necessarily worrying about what the others were doing, but Philadelphia was run by monopoly. Joe was the only person to put on hardcore shows in the city, no other promoter stood a chance. I heard rumors ranging from him threatening local bands who considered signing to record labels outside of the 'family', to effectively black-balling budding promoters who he felt were stepping on his 'turf'. Staggered Works worked with FSU and specifically Joe McKay twice. The first time, FSU members were brought in to a show at Siren Records to help work as security during a particularly anticipated show. While the show went relatively well, a fight outside as the show-goers were leaving the venue led to a brick being thrown into the window of a GAP store across the street. The second time that Staggered Works hired Joe McKay and his friends to help out at a show, was at the Moose Lodge, when a New York band called Madball was headlining one of the biggest hardcore shows we'd ever had. Because it was the type of show that would normally be taking place in Philadelphia, McKay and his friends were hired to make sure that things went smoothly. Bob Meadows 46 was out of town on tour and the younger employees of Staggered Works were left to take care of the show ourselves with the help of a few of Bob's friends. One of Bob's friends was left in charge of the front door, which was positioned next to the bar. He got more and more intoxicated as the night went on and it became clear that he was not the most responsible and trustworthy person to be put in charge of such a large amount of the money that night. Joe was overseeing things upstairs in the Ballroom, but from where I was standing across the room, it looked like he spent most of the night letting his friends in through the back door without paying. At one point in the night, Joe took a headcount of the room and went to compare it to the money at the door – and discovered a discrepancy of around $2,000. In his opinion, the missing money was undoubtedly stolen by either the door guy or one of the young people running the show. To us it seemed likely that he had allowed far too many people to come in without paying. Joe's past gang-leader tendencies came out as he began tearing through the bags of employees and threatening everyone who crossed his path. Thankfully, Joe left that night without throwing any actual punches, despite how many he threatened to throw. Due to Joe's domination over the Pennsylvania hardcore community, his side of the story was believed as the truth and the reputation of the Doylestown hardcore scene as a reliable town for traveling bands to have a successful show at was tarnished. Staggered Works employees were discouraged from attending Philadelphia shows, and it wasn't long before the hardcore scene in Doylestown started to crumble. 47 Chapter 5 – When I Get Old Aging in Hardcore Growing Up I remember all the people...used to come and hang out that were in college and hung out together. And now they're all gone. I don't hear from any of them. Like the people I least expected it from. I mean granted they went to college and they're off doing their own thing but completely leaving it behind, and not acknowledging their existence in the scene is kind of bullshit, and it happens all the time, (Mitch as quoted in Davis 2006:65) Sociologist Joanna R. Davis explores how adult punk fans try to reconcile their age and their further participation in the scene 7. Because of its rebellious and often care-free attitude, hardcore has been traditionally seen as a youth subculture, one that young people may use as a way to help manage the anxiety of adolescence, (Davis 2006:63). But there are those who defy expectations and attempt, with vary degrees of success, to cling to punk as they grow older. Once out of their twenties, hardcore fans eventually must confront their position in the hardcore scene, as they start to have less in common with most of the people around them. Davis asserts that these aging hardcore fans fall into two categories, either as successful or unsuccessful. Unsuccessful participants are aging fans who are unable to find a balance between embracing adulthood and retaining their involvement in the scene. As they exit the generally accepted appropriate 7 In this paper Davis is talking about punk as a very broad genre, one that can include hardcore in its definition. The standard demographic for a hardcore fan is essentially the same as that of a punk fan, and the expectations for the age at which these fans may start to leave the scene is about the same. Because of this, I will use hardcore interchangeably with punk in this section alone. The quotes from Davis refer to punk, but in my own analysis I will be referring to hardcore – but we are talking about parallel communities in this sense. 48 age bracket – usually at about 25 to 30 years old – unsuccessful hardcore fans can become what Davis calls the “scene rejector” (Davis 2006:65). Scene rejectors are aging fans who choose to privilege the responsibilities of adulthood at the expense of involvement in the hardcore scene. According to Ross Haenfler, this is the most common route for hardcore (Haenfler 2006:151). Interestingly, many of these scene rejecters were once some of the most devoted members, such as 29 year old musician Mitch: “I've seen people in college that were...militant vegans, straight edge, hardcore kids, and when they graduated and left college, they gave it all up” (Mitch as quoted in Davis 2006:65). Davis asserts that this connection is of significance: that those who were the most invested in their involvement in hardcore may feel they need to abandon it in the most extreme way, which can be seen as an extension of the strength they try to assert through straight edge and other militant aspects of hardcore. During my years actively involved in the Doylestown scene, I saw numerous fans grow out of the scene. They attended fewer shows and while there were a number of active performers who were in their late 20s, there were very few members older than that other than Bob Meadows and others who helped put on shows. Often I heard younger fans and those who had stuck it out into adulthood make comments about people who were leaving the scene. These people were rarely actually ostracized, but were frequently made fun of for letting adulthood stand in the way of their identity as a hardcore fan. On the other end of the spectrum of unsuccessful hardcore fans, there are the stagnant participants, who choose to cling to their involvement in the hardcore scene at the expense of adult responsibility (Davis 2006:65). This is evidenced by the people attempting to act and appear younger than they actually are, attempting to fit in with those around them and hide their impending adulthood. Davis writes about punk fan Ryan, who points out how embarrassing stagnant participants like his aging friend can be: He's gonna start looking really fucking ridiculous man...He fucking dresses and gets haircuts like he's fucking some 19-year-old kid, has 19-year-old girlfriends...it's silly, it's what kids do; when you get older, it seems like you should have a little more dignity (Ryan as quoted in Davis 49 2006:66). Stagnant participants reject a life outside of the hardcore scene, but they also reject more direct involvement in the scene, in ways that could be more age-appropriate such as booking shows or running a venue. A stagnant hardcore fan does not find a way to make an adult life in hardcore; rather they abandon grown up life for hardcore. Aging fans who are able to negotiate a balance between adulthood and hardcore do so by working within the hardcore scene or by making room for the scene while also working in the outside world. Davis refers to those who find a job within the hardcore scene as career fans (Davis, 2006: 67). Career fans make their living by participating in the hardcore scene full time, as musicians, owners of labels, or concert promoters. Dave Heck is an example of a career fan: he has played in six touring bands, ran the record label and distribution company Get This Right records, and currently works for an online hardcore music merchandise store called Cold Cuts Merch. The ultimate form of a successful career fan is a legend, a member of the hardcore scene who has gained commercial success outside of the local scenes, and who is able to make a living to some degree from their participation in the scene (Davis 2006:67). Bob Meadows is an example of a legend in Doylestown. From 1999 to 2013, he was the singer of the successful metalcore band A Life Once Lost, which played a number of festivals and toured around the world. Despite his legendary status, Bob has distanced himself from the scene in recent years for personal reasons and could be considered more of a scene rejector at this point. The other way an aging fan can be a successful hardcore fan is by finding a way to prioritize participation in the scene while holding a mainstream job. Davis calls these types the corporate incorporators. These hardcore fans are active members beyond the world of hardcore. They are often married and employed with a full-time job, but also attend shows and continue to support the scene they grew up in (Davis 2006:68). Davis cites punk fan and full-time nurse, Susan, who feels that this type of balance can take its toll, as not all jobs lend themselves to attending shows nor being a social 50 member of the scene: It kind of isolates you, 'cuz you're like no, I can't go out and party down tonight 'cuz I have to go to work tomorrow, you know...So that's kind of a drag. I've missed out on some fun times, dammit. Damn responsibility. Dammit. Oh, well (Susan as quoted in Davis 2006:68). From the Doylestown scene, Jon Martello, Shannon Hays, and Todd Cramer are examples of an average corporate incorporator. They hold regular jobs outside of the scene, but they make it out to shows on a regular basis. Jon and Todd also actively play in bands, but do not rely on them as their primary source of income. Blair Elliot has found a balance between corporate incorporator and career fan, as the owner of Siren Records. Siren is not specifically a hardcore-oriented record store, but it has provided a space for fanss to go to in Doylestown since it opened. Blair continues to attend and book shows, and supports the artists he loves, and has found ways to incorporate his love of music and his strong sense of community into the hardcore scene in Doylestown. Just like people, a hardcore scene can overstay its welcome in a community. hardcore scenes can be short lived, as lots of shows can be seen as a disruption by town residents, and venues can stop allowing shows. This is what happened in Doylestown. In June, 2009, New Jersey straight edge hardcore band Floorpunch was booked to play at the Moose Lodge. After the drama of the Madball show, there had been rumors that Staggered Works would stop booking hardcore hows at the Moose Lodge. Although we didn't officially announce the Floorpunch show as the final show at the Moose Lodge, people spoke about it as if it was. On a message board dedicated to providing hardcore fans in Doylestown a space to advertise shows, discuss issues in the scene, and connect with each other, someone posted “Let's rip the Moose head off of the wall,” in a discussion thread about the Floorpunch show (Anonymous, Doto Activeboard 2009). Even if the show was not planned as the last hardcore show at the Moose Lodge, at least a few fans were determined it to make it the last. Only a few weeks before the planned show date, the employees of Staggered Works were informed that the Moose Lodge would no longer be allowing shows starting immediately, and that any 51 shows that were currently booked were cancelled. The ownership of the Moose Lodge was trading hands and the new owners were looking to clean up the bar's image as one of the borderline dive bars in town. They had decided that Staggered Works shows, and the large crowds they brought out were bad for business. By this point Siren Records had moved to a location that could not house such a large, potentially violent show, and the administrators at the Main Street Baptist Church felt that we were an insurance liability, so there were no venue options in Doylestown. The Floorpunch show was moved to Phoenixville, a town an hour away, making it difficult for many of the Doylestown area fans to get to the show. And that was that. Staggered Works, for the first time since its inception, was without a home. Bob attempted to keep things going by booking a few shows in a pavilion in the woods behind a Doylestown rugby field, and a few area hardcore fans booked a few marginally successful shows at the Chalfont United Methodist Church, in the neighboring town of Chalfont. Neither of these venues offered the same opportunities as Siren or the Moose Lodge. Many Staggered Works shows benefited from the venues being positioned directly in the center of town, which allowed people walking by on the street to drop in and buy a ticket on a whim. These new places offered no such chance. It wasn't long before shows started moving further and further away from Doylestown. At that point many members of the scene had grown older and moved to Philadelphia. Soon the Doylestown scene was completely absorbed into the Philadelphia scene, and those of us still in town were left with a void in our weekend plans. The Moose Lodge is no longer a live music space, and it's now a strict membership-only bar that no longer reeks of stale beer and cigarettes. Casey Homa, one of the youngest fans in the scene, has started booking smaller shows at the current Siren Records location with success, but nothing compares to what the old location could house. Otherwise, there is no monument to the Doylestown hardcore scene. For four years the regular stream of shows helped to define the town. Nearly every weekend 52 you could see a group of fans standing around in town, and you could hear music rumbling from a busy storefront in the center of town, but now all you can hear is the din of the bar life. ––– Conclusion Since its birth in the early 1980s, hardcore has provided a cathartic space for alienated and angry young people to express their emotions. With all of the teenagers in Doylestown, Pennsylvania and surrounding towns who felt they were being ignored by the homes the way were being raised in, Staggered Works found the perfect way to provide these young people with access to live punk and a community to enjoy it in. For me, finding a community where the people around me understood my suburban teen angst was life-changing. I met friends that I connected with on a level I had rarely experienced with people outside of hardcore, and found a healthy way to express the roller coaster of emotions that came with adolescence. Working behind the scenes provided me with a way to participate in the hardcore scene beyond attending shows and buying merchandise, and helped me feel even closer to the community. In hardcore, as in many diffuse subcultural communities, identity plays a crucial role in the experiences of fans. Being a woman in the hardcore scene, I often felt excluded from being able to fully participate with the rest of the community. Even as someone who worked in the scene, I felt that my voice was ignored in favor of my male counterparts. But being silenced like this taught me to shout louder, to work harder to ensure that my voice was heard. That's what hardcore does for people: it makes them stronger and gives them a space to find their voice. Hardcore may be less a part of my life than it was in 2008, but “hardcore kid” will always be part of my identity. 53 Works Cited Allmusic. All Media Network, n.d. Web. <http://allmusic.com/style/hardcore-punk-ma0000002641>. Binelli, Mark. "Punk Rock Fight Club." Rolling Stone 23 Aug. 2007: Rolling Stone. Blush, Steven, and George Petros. American Hardcore: A Tribal History. Los Angeles, CA: Feral House, 2001. Print. Boston Beatdown: See The World Through Our Eyes - Volume II. Dir. Ronin Morris. J&M Productions, 2004. Clawson, M. A. 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