Month of August , 2005

The following is the review I've submitted to Jersey Beat. A bit lengthy, but an adequate representation of my feelings about the show:

It was a good day to be older.

Seeing the line outside ths Stone Pony on Sunday afternoon, it didn't seem like such a good idea to grab a spot of wall and stare at the erector set on Ocean Avenue for an hour. It was bad enough that Hellfest, as Lifetime guitarist Dan Yemin put it later that evening, “shat the bed” and had to cancel it's entire Trenton event, forcing Lifetime's reunion to take place not only in a smaller venue, but in three smaller venues over the course of three days. Besides that, too many Warped Tours and Skate and Surf festivals have taught me that the Bouncing Souls don't particularly care if you wait at the venue for them. As for Lifetime, being gone for eight years hardly puts them in a position to demand anything.

I went up to the boardwalk and, much to my surprise, the boards weren't bending beneath my feet or, worse, missing. It had been that long since I'd had to wait outside a concert at the Pony or anywhere else in Asbury. I think the last time I'd tread the boards was before the Warped Tour back in 2001. It was only four years ago, but at the time Asbury was still the kind of place that Henry Rollins felt the need to provide a disclaimer about during his set: “Hello Asbury Park. You may be having fun now, but this is a violent, bloody, murdering excuse for a city. If you're smart, once this show is over you'll get in your cars and go home just as fast as the road will take you out of here. Because when the sun goes down, you do not want to be around.”

I can remember going to the Pony for a GWAR and Gutwrench show back in '96 and it being just that town. The only people who wanted to show up were members of the US Thugs and the DMS crew – those are gangs that used to follow hardcore bands around, for all the kids who ain't privvy. If you've ever heard of FSU (Fuck Shit Up, Friends Stand United, etc.) at Boston hardcore shows or the occasional matinee here in Jersey, it was like that but less organized. The Pony, like the Albion Hotel, the Erector set, and the Casino around it, was a crumbling relic. All the walls were painted black, the back wall was just that (not an opening to an outdoor bar, as it is now) and chain-link fence separated the inside bar from the stage area. A classy joint all around.

It gives me a greater appreciation for the way the club looks now. A lot of refurbishing and decoupage have made it a different place, one in many ways more ideally suited to the Souls/Lifetime crowd. Looking around once I got inside, everyone seemed to be in their late-20s, early 30s. There was not Hot Topic gear, no packs of kids gathered in circles like the bands don't matter and no disaffected teens looking to solve a life's worth of rejection and boredom through taekwondo in the pit.

I was surrounded by what could be considered Lifetime's offspring: members of bands with Brunswick roots like Burn West, We're All Broken, Flashlight Arcade, Scream! Hello and disbanded groups like Low End Theory and The Killing Gift. Instead of being about their “scene,” however, all involved simply seemed genuinely happy just to be in the building. A local guitarist commented that, on this night, “I'm going to be 14. I'm just going to run around and be like I was when I was 14.” A fellow rock writer lamented that had Lifetime come up in today's climate, the Alternative Press would have dismissed Ari Katz's vocals as unintelligible. Band members who went to shows in Philly earlier that weekend gushed about how Lifetime had played “everything” -- not incredibly surprising, considering their body of work consists of two CDs at less than an hour combined.

Smiles were everywhere, almost contagious. Realizing it was once good form to punch a guy in the mouth for smiling at a hardcore show, I was fairly impressed. Even moreso considering a crowd that just sat in the equivalent of Mother Nature's armpit for an hour was now being subjected to The Loved Ones, who were a little to emo for even a Bouncing Souls “hardcore” show. General consensus around the room, and even among the bands, was that they were the most fortunate bastards in the Garden State to land such a gig. That the crowd was patient and a small portion thereof helped sing along was even more fortunate.However, to hear the Souls' Greg Attonio tell it, even the Souls could be considered filler at a Lifetime show.

“We're going to keep the set short 'cause Lifetime's coming up,” he said, setting the tone for a set that, while energetic, was never overly flashy or exuberant. Most importantly, they kept it old-school, while never actually playing the song of the same name. The biggest “holy shit” moments came when they dusted off songs like “Neurotic” and “The Guest” before dipping into crowd movers “No Rules,” “Argyle” and “Quik Chek Girl” from “Maniacal Laughter.” It was enough to lure me from a prime spot near the stage over to the pit, hence no photos with this piece.

Even when they took on Springsteen's “Growin' Up” for the Pony crowd, there seemed to be more people who knew the song than didn't. In fact, were it not for “That Song,” “Private Radio” and “True Believers,” we may have gone a full two sets without hearing a song penned during this millennia.

As much singing and dancing as the crowd did, the Souls never put a puntuation mark on their set with sing-alongs like “Here We Go,” “Ole” or Jersey show mainstay “East Coast, Fuck You.” Instead, the boys from Brunswick deferred to the headliner.

“Playing these shows reminds us of playing our first tour with Lifetime back in 1993 – eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out in the parking lot and cooking on the Coleman grill,” Attonio said.

As illustrated by Katz kissing his wife and young, earmuffed child before taking the stage with Lifetime for the first time in nearly seven years, a bit has changed since. But even for Katz, who'd performed stints with Zero Zero and Miss TK and the Revenge since, It took only the first few chords of “Danyeurism” to bring it all back to 1995 again. Grown men rushed the stage, bodies that hadn't seen a pit in years were picking up change and windmilling and what seemed like the entire room was singing along with word after garbled word straight into the follow-up “Rodeo Clown.”

With his head shaved clean and looking noticeably broader and more muscled than in a February appearance with Miss TK and the Revenge, Katz fed off the crowd's youth movement – holding the mic out to the waiting masses during “Young, Loud and Scotty” and diving in during “Turnpike Gates.” Yemin handled much of the emcee duties, thanking everone involved with the reunion and showing love to the crowd. Considering the alleged animosity between Katz and Yemin after the split, Katz played Yemin's foil to the hilt – telling the crowd he loved them “just a little” and referring to a track from 1997's “Jersey's Best Dancers” as “a song off our new album.”

The folks in the pit just ate it up. Each time the riffs sped up on songs like “The Boy's No Good” or “(The Gym Is) Neutral Territory,” childlike grins led to sining before yielding to one last burst of energy for a rush or spin kick. Showing their age by putting their hands on their knees and huffing between songs, the crowd managed to muster a bit more strength each time Katz launched into old favorites like “25 Cent Giraffes” and “Irony Is For Suckers.”

It was a decade or so since most of us had seen the band and, sadly, that amounts to nearly a lifetime. It's been a while since we were high school kids looking for something to do or college kids bouncing from basement show to basement show, maybe hooking up somewhere along the way. Suddenly you start realizing the limitations of it all. It becomes difficult to go out to shows when you have work in the morning or to sustain a band when the mailbox keeps filling with bills past due. Even the faintest hints of hope are fleeting.

“So if we were to have another show in New Brunswick next week, you'd all show up, right?” Katz inquired toward the end of the set.

Sure, why not? Why not hang on to this for as long as we can... keep singing, keep dancing, stay young? They could still pack into the Court Tavern or the State. Sure it would be smaller, but we already shunned work for Ticketmaster or a ride down to Asbury to get these tickets, right?

“Does anyone here remember the Melody Bar or the Down Under?” Katz asked, answered by a collective yell. “Good. Never forget.”

Just like that, it becomes clear: This is all nostalgia. The songs are still here and for tonight, and maybe one date more, the band's here. But that part of Brunswick, the all-ages shows and matinees, that moment in time where a band could be everything – it's gone. It's not coming back, no matter how many times bands get back together.

All that exists is this moment, and we all know it. Katz announces the last song and launches into “Ostrichsized.” The words could just as easily be the story of hardcore kids who've found themselves years later, all grown up: “We are alone. All of us don't know where to begin.”

The crowd lunges forward and sings along. There's no barrier and no guarantee Lifetime's coming back. A few crowd surfers hit the stage, then a few fans jump on from the sides until the security guards are overwhelmed. The point where the band ends and the crowd begins is lost, with Lifetime and its audience meshed into one unit until the song ends.

The lights go up and the cheering doesn't stop until the band's exited, stage left. When I step outside, I'll find that my guitarist friend is feeling every bit his age after taking a bruising in the pit, yet shit-eating grin is still stuck on his face. It's the same one we all had inside, talking about the songs and the old scene in general, feeling like we're all in on the joke and that everyone who doesn't get it missed out. Feeling fortunate, even more than the Loved Ones, that we were able to grow to love this the first time around.

But all that can wait.. Until I hit those doors, I tend to agree with the guitarist: I'm 14 again.

-Jay Notte

Fugazi - REPEATER + 3 SONGS (Remastered)
Dischord Records
1990, 2005 | DISCHORD

REPEATER is not a new record. But sometimes we all need a kick in the ass. You need a kick in the ass.

The powerful second album by Washington D.C.'s famous Fugazi, REPEATER is a kick in the ass. Originally released in 1990 and remastered in 2004, REPEATER put Fugazi on the billboard charts and marked the end of childhood for the band.

While REPEATER is not covered in lavish production or any studio gimmickry, it sounds crisp and well mixed, thundering and effective, a record both musically and lyrically provocative and assaulting. The record seemed to have escaped the inner tension of the band, or perhaps they utilized it well, as REPEATER offers some of the best songs written by the band - in particular "Turnover," "Repeater," "Merchandise," Sieve-Fisted Find," and "Shut The Door."

Many of the songs show the band further exploring reggae rhythms, bizarre buzz-sawing guitars, and their ability to write crowd-friendly sing-along anthems. The title track "Repeater" is a perfect example of this, beginning with a powerful rolling drum and bass line while guitars crash and howl feedback. MacKaye yells "you say i need a job / well i've got my own business / you wanna know what i do? / none of your fucking business!" When the songs hits the chorus the band reigns in the brutality, a pretty guitar melody is dropped over a serious reggae bassline while MacKaye brings in the refrain, you guessed it, "REPEATER!" The chorus to this song could very well be the blueprint for the band Hot Water Music.

The vocal overdubs on this track are dizzyingly appropriate during the verses, with a different Ian panned stereo left and stereo right, one declaratory and solemn, stating as fact, "You want to know what I do", while the other is raging and accusatory, demanding of the listener, "YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I DO?"

"Merchandise," a crowd chanting anthem and a half, features some of the only participation by both vocalist on this record - something conspicuously absent after the seminal 13 Songs. In fact, it's signatory of the only complaint I have about the record - it could be more dense, it could be more driven, it's not carried by the adrenaline rush of people working creatively in concert, but people helping each other play their songs.

In his book "Our Band Could Be Your Life," Michael Azzerad provides some insight into the record's creation. REPEATER was the first record that the band members recorded themselves, after touring for the better part of a year and not having much space from each other. Instead of picking at each other and exploring character flaws, the band members "did something else almost as deadly to creativity - they treated each other with kid gloves." Ian MacKaye is quoted as saying, "no one wanted to take control because it seemed like it would be offending someone else."

The continuous assault of 13 Songs is dropped in favor of a much more dramatic approach to dynamics, and more stop-start-stop rhythms, elements that served to distinguish Fugazi. The spine-tingling opening track "Turnover," begins with wide spaced and carefully chosen guitar swells (possibly driven by an electronic bow), followed by the drums and bass driving a catchy rhythm at medium volume, until the guitars come crashing in with long anthem-driving chords. In comes Picciotto with his uniquely emphatic delivery: "Languor rises reaching! / To turn off the alarm!", the first line of the record signaling its theme.

In the second verse of "Turnover," Picciotto sings, "Lounge against your weapons! / Until your muscles find lock / in the ease of that position / a residue of tremor passes as some cherie amour suggests that maybe it was time to smash things up." Many of the songs on this record deal with reflection of character within a corrupt society, and accusing the characters of those around the song writers for failing to perform such reflection, for being passive accomplices in horrors only hinted at, the band preferring to discuss politics at a personal level. In fact, it is that very lack of name-dropping accusation and self reflection that keeps the music timeless, and gives it more strength than the empty and easy "fuck reagan" diatribes found in Fugazi's contemporaries (then and now).

At a time when I find myself yearning for music with real intent, especially political intent, when I find myself disappointed by my own contemporaries as a musician, when I am looking for music that reflects my own moral outrage at my society and my country and the people around me, Fugazi is just what I needed, and REPEATER fits that bill nicely.