Tag Archives: 90s hardcore

Oi Polloi

The band from Scotland, not the shop. Ha!

Still brilliant after all these years. In fact, the newer stuff they’ve put out is, in my humble opinion, some of their best by far. Anarcho-Street-Crust at its finest!


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[Old Time] Music – A Bit of Nostalgia

Last night, after I posted the earlier bit about running, my Missus had a run in with the cat.  The younger of the felines enjoys using the corner of the wall in the dining room as a scratching post.  To get him to stop, when he does this we spray a little perfume that my Missus doesn’t use anymore on the corner where he was scratching.  It seems to work for a few days a time.  Well, my missus was a bit at the end of her tether with young Thunder Paws and sprayed a number of times and kind of fumed me out!  I wasn’t into sitting inside a cloud of perfume, so I trundled off to the upstairs.

In the warmth of the office, I did something that I had been meaning to get to for a week or more.  I had been meaning to get back into some of my old records – specifically the Inchworm Records “FOOD NOT BOMBS BENEFIT” LP.  That record is SO GREAT.  I listened to it so much over the years.  Going back through and reading the booklet and listening to that record was simply wonderful.  It’s a bit much that I’ve had it since 1994, but hey, we all get older, right?   Looking at and listening to that inspired me to break out two boxes of 7″ ep records and look through them.  In some way it’s like art, or an artifact – especially when I’m not listening to the record itself, but just looking it it – reading it and taking it in.  Those records are AMAZING.  I don’t mean that the music is something perfect.  The aesthetic is what it is.  The sound and the style of those records and bands was a specific thing from a specifc time.  I happen to love the sound and the style, but that’s not what is amazing to me.  The fact that those records exist at all is what is amazing to me.  That the people involved were motivated enough to create those sounds, to make those noises and exist within those stylisitc cultures – all done by themselves – that is what still amazes me.

Many of my good friends who were around then like to downplay those days.  For some it all seems so silly now.  For others it is the manifestation of a lot of repression and misguided feelings – especially “guilt.”  If for my friends those days were something less than magical, I am sorry.  They were kind of magical for me.  Don’t get me wrong.  Life wasn’t perfect then, and those bands and records and styles didn’t make it perfect.  In addition, I look back on what I missed within the culture of those bands at that time – the shows I didn’t go to, the fests I missed out on, the records I never found or could not afford or chose poorly in regards to and passed up – and I know that my experience is limited and specific to me.  But even within all of this glorious imperfection, there existed a group of people attempting to make something of their own, and doing a rather amazing job of it when I look back now, 15 years later.   

So much of who I now am – who I STILL am – is tied up in those days.  I guess it’s all about developmental stages.  If those things had come about when I was younger or older I might not have the relationship with them that I now possess.  But I hit it at a sweet spot, so to speak.  I was at a point in my own personal, political, emotional and aesthetic development that really clicked with what was happening with those bands.  I’m still vegan.  I still – for whatever reason – keep up with news and politics and give a shit about social justice.  I still play music that has screamy vocals and most people call “noise” or more kindly, “noisy.”  I know that these things are tied to what I specifically experienced from late 1993 till 1995.  There was some after that, too I’m sure.  But this was the beginning of something.  I suppose for me it went on through the mid to late 90s in some capacity.  Again, developmental stages at work. 

Silly or not.  Waste of time or not.  Useless screaming that no one cared / cares about or not.  I can’t deny it.  I love that stuff.

It’s like visiting with good, old friends.


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