Post-Mohawk Hardcore

After shaving my head at around 18 I entered into a bit of an 80's hardcore punk phase. This actually coincided with my folk punk phase interestingly enough. 80's hardcore didn't really have a scene persay, I was one of the only punks I knew who was really into it. But folk punk back then was one of the biggest scenes. I didn't mind a lot of the most mainstream folk punk of the time like Johnny Hobo and whatnot but I was much more interested into the softer, melodic, what's sometimes been called "Twee" folk-punk. There was a lot less stomping and throwing beers and much more dancing, twirling and sitting. It was a lot more intimate and I liked that. Bands include Stick and Poke, Tale Teller Heart, Dreampipe Vermin, Cud Eastbound and, what I think of as the originators of this genre, The Mountain Goats.

I started this punk band called Bad Batch, which would have a lengthy 6 show run? Despite the short life, we were pretty liked by the people who saw us. My stage presence at the time was uhhh just stomping around on stage basically. It wasn't really where I shined, but people enjoyed the energy cuz I guess we weren't standing totally still or something.

During this time I would spent 1 month couch surfing California. It wasn't supposed to be like that, I was supposed to stay with a friend the whole two months but because of well I'll just say personal stuff, I was on my own for the last month. I can't remember if I was 18 or 19 but I was definitely in a situation.

Believe it or not I look back on this fondly. One night in an alley in Berkeley. One week or so with a friend in SoCal (a situation that did not end well that I deeply regret...). Another week with a lovely, extremely funny and more aggressive than you'd expect, tibetan buddhist named Chouki. Not sure the exact spelling on that one. She was the mom of my friend from the scene, and she was just so sweet. I heard numerous stories about her life with my friends dad, and she would make me vegan versions of tibetan food when my friend and I weren't eating at Flacos. There's so much else to tell from that week on her couch but I'll save it for now. This trip would also see me as a voting member for the 924 Gilman Street Project. I would also play a show and I'm pretty sure I egregiously broke their rules during sound check lol

This is the first phase of my 80's hardcore stint, a stint I'm still somewhat in — I love 80s hardcore. This phase differs from the subsequent one, however, by a love for, let's be honest here, the worst bands in 80's hardcore. Don't get me wrong I still like some of these bands, but I can admit that early Gang Green was not a good band. Wasted Youth had some good songs but their best song is pretty disgustingly sexist. To this day I don't really see what people get out of Black Flag's Damaged record. I mean I know its historical significance but the Everything Went Black versions or Dez versions of those songs are pretty consistently better. The best songs are alright and the worst songs are unfathomably coherent.

And I ate that incoherence up. And a consequence of that was consuming some pretty uh... teenage boy takes. That Wasted Youth song I mentioned? It was a song making fun of a girl in their school (in which they full on name drop her) who they thought was a poser and a slut. The title? Uni-high beefrag. I mean, go listen to the quintesential incel anthem Hope by the Descendents. This is the kinda stuff I was consuming. It wasn't good.

And I think a dark consequence of that is just how unsafe I felt exploring gender. Punk always values authenticity, and because I never really experienced gender dysphoria, could I really call myself trans? If I decided to break from "who I was" to wear a cute skirt, was I really being myself? I had cultivated an identity for myself and despite my non-binary identity, gender expression and experimentation, especially anything feminine, was not a part of that. If I wanted to be feminine, the punk scene had taught me either that it's not me, or it's not acceptable in punk. Realizing this since has left me irrate with the history and continued progression of punk. While my form of femininity is not usually frilly or girly, it is still feminine and it took me a long time to accept that this was something I could be. That I could be "cute".

This should outline, a piece I'll write later, how punk is not as radically progressive as people want to believe. I believe punk kept me from exploring my gender identity sooner. That my learned obsession with staying inline with who I am now prevented me from exploring just who I could become later.

Fashion-wise, this era was marked by a shaved head, ripped blue jeans, vans, and a band tee, often homemade either with stencils and paint or sharpies, sometimes sleeveless, sometimes crop tops, sometimes both. And always always my leather jacket.

I was playing a show at a cafe in Berkeley California. This photo was taken and then posted on facebook with the caption "Berkeley's own Canadian heartthrob"

Taken at a Car 87 show. I guess I wiped out or something. I'm on the floor in The Freeze shirt.

I played an accoustic set at a venue called the Outhouse. Turns out one of my idols, Todd Serious of the Rebel Spell was at that show. Turns out when I saw the Rebel Spell a few months later he would recognize me and come and tell me he liked my music.

I have no memory of this photo whatsoever but uh... I spray painted that Minor Threat shirt. Still have it.

After a folk-punk festival I went to this place in the woods where some friends lived and stayed there for a few days. They had a tree where people would carve their names, so I climbed up with my knife in my mouth so I could carve my name into it higher than anyone else. There was a joke at the festival where people would sharpie High Risk on their knuckles. I climbed back up immediately after to write High Risk above my name.

This photo was taken of me while playing a show with my band after Bad Batch.

This is the only photo I still have from when I did a little modelling for a friend at makeup school.