Hardcore '25.

 For the past several weeks Disaster Amnesiac has been perusing a well worn copy of Steven Blush's American Hardcore-A Tribal History during various down time activities at mi casita. Recall purchasing the book excitedly when it was initially published. That's what, twenty-two years ago now? Blush was a participant within the initial bloom of Hardcore and all of the contributors to this oral history of the movement were too. To varying degrees every one of them do frame Hardcore as a movement. It was more than just a development within the music culture. It would seem redundant for me to recount the talking points of Hardcore as movement, and who really has time to read anymore anyway? From a purely subjective frame of reference Disaster Amnesiac has been playing Hardcore recordings that I own or have access to: Necros, Misfits, Agnostic Front. Never stopped listening to Minor Threat and various other D.C. Hardcore sounds, or Cro-Mags, Fang or Minutemen. Right now Everything Went Black is spinning in the house CD player. Disaster Amnesiac posted pics from a Black Flag show that occurred here in Tucson last Sunday. These are aspects of Hardcore that still affect my music listening, how I hear music. At least it seems that way much of the time. Other types of music share that space of course but it was Hardcore music, particularly that of Black Flag and to a slightly lesser extent Minor Threat wherein I really felt music with a kind of bodily consciousness. Obviously there are many others still hanging around this realm too. Are they watching the contemporary Hardcore shows that get posted on YouTube? Disaster Amnesiac hits the play button on them fairly often. I can't say that there's much to excite my musical synapses when they're viewed. There's a kind of formulaic aspect to them, one that's been noted and critiqued for so long now; again, the reader needn't be harangued with it from this quadrant. It looks as though people have a great time at these Hardcore shows and there's no shame in that. A couple of years back the Tucson band Bat Population played at Hotel Congress, opening for a few of the then-hot contemporary Hardcore bands. Bat Population, sadly disbanded, were not a Hardcore band. They were my favorite band of the evening. Glad that they played first, because my attention was sharp and not volume worn as I tried to pay mind to their musical band dynamics as they worked them in front of people.  Shoes with toe protection were more imperative for witnessing the second two bands than musical attentiveness, but then again it seems as though Hardcore's physicality won out over its more cerebral elements a long time ago. No need to dialectical about it. It is what it is and in some ways a person's ability to cope with that perspective can be enhanced by time spent around Hardcore scenes. There's a quote from Scream's Pete Stahl in American Hardcore: "[M]ost of the shows were in a shitty part of town...kids from the 'burbs were being exposed to the realities of the world..." I can certainly attest to having had certain blinders that my young eyes wore removed within that type of activity, on macro societal and micro personal levels. It feels almost cliche to mention this at this point that Hardcore ripped the scabs off of the cuts that life within American society necessitates. For many it did. Some hung around. Some moved on. Disaster Amnesiac held on to certain vital stances gleaned from Hardcore, of that you can be assured. My more distressing/insane/dismiss-able traits got worked out in public, with and around other really existing people, and my apologies for all that. This morning I woke up wondering about what types of events will transpire in this new year of 2025. Which part of Hardcore will people inclined to its influence use as means of surviving, coping, thriving?  Three days in and we're already seeing scenes which beg the question: how hardcore will things get?

Rench's Rifles-s/t; On Repeat Records cassette, 2023

 

 

Fans of a certain style of musical production will be familiar with Mick Barr as a guitar player extraordinaire in groups such as Orthrelm  and Chrom Tech, wherein he lays down Maximalist riffs with speed and precision. Any of his projects are worth time spent listening to. Disaster Amnesiac certainly has. That being said, the intriguing possibility of hearing this master guitar player take a turn on drums was what lead me to Rench's Rifles, the eponymous release from his 2000's-era group with Rafael Cohen and Raquel Vogl on guitars. Over the course of nine tracks the listener is treated to this trio in what sounds to me to be the initial throws of a band discovering itself, and it's a beauty to hear. Barr is clearly the leader: his drumming evinces a musical conception that, while not overpowering the guitars, takes center stage within the sound matrix. He utilizes 32nd note flourishes, burst beats, tom tom to cymbal bell runs, and other over the top techniques that drive the guitar tones made by Cohen and Vogl, which are compelling for their modal astuteness. Not that the latter two seem to mind some sticks wielding dude dicking with their flows. They sound enthusiastic about it! Their enthusiasm rings out not only within the pacing of their playing but also at times from their voices as they encourage themselves and their fellows as the jams unfold. It's the sound that a band in its initial flourishes of spontaneous collaboration makes. And it's just such loveliness.  In many ways all of the tracks can be heard as jams; there's a raw, unfinished quality to the entire set that makes Disaster Amnesiac very happy, that's for damn sure. Could you imagine how fun it must have been to have seen this band as they played live, together? Did Rench's Rifles ever play a show for other people? If so, those in attendance must have been grinning ear to ear. Sounds such as those captured on Rench's Rifles have that effect. As far as Disaster Amnesiac knows, copies of this are still to be had at Dischord Records. Spread the love from the guitar to the drums!