I Hope It Never Gets Old
Thoughts from a hardcore show + a very un-hardcore record of the week
Carson leaned into my ear to yell over the band that was playing, “I’m gonna go up and sing with them.” It was the last night of the tour, and that sort of thing is customary for a last show on a long run. Whether it be through pranks or joining each other on stage, you’ve gotta express some love and camaraderie before you part ways, making the long drive back to your respective home states.
“You okay?” He asked just before running off.
I was fine, though I probably looked like a deer in headlights. I was taking it all in. I hadn’t been inside of Chain Reaction in 15 years. The last time I visited the dark little club that lives in the shadow of Disneyland, the doorman marked my hands with X’s, which always felt funny to me as I was deemed old enough to travel the country in a van and play shows in bars, but I wasn’t allowed to sit at them. So yeah, it had been a while.
Nothing had changed. A few more coats of black paint. Band stickers plastered on top of band stickers - the ones I toured with peeking out from behind the newer generation. The opening band could have played alongside my old band at a VFW hall in 2001. The bass player was even wearing a t-shirt that I owned 20 years ago. They moved the same as we did. The riffs were the same. The drummer hit harder than he needed to, just like ours did. Even the singer’s banter felt familiar. None of this is a criticism, only an acknowledgement of a phenomenon.
It felt like I’d visited my childhood home and discovered my parents had left my bedroom fully intact. Posters still on the walls, my guitar propped up in the corner, the landline phone on my desk. And I wanted to feel something so badly. I wanted that warm blanket of nostalgia that everyone seems to cling to nowadays. Instead, I stood there feeling like I was locked outside of it all, peering in.
I thought about everything I didn’t think about back then. I never thought about the long drives, or how the money was garbage. I never cared that finding a clean bathroom was a daily quest. I never thought about anything other than the 30 to 40 minutes that I’d be on stage. That was enough. That was everything to me. These kids on the stage had that. To stand in that church of emotion and no longer feel the flame is a lonely feeling. To know it’s more complicated now — that I need and want more from life and creative endeavors than the simple catharsis I lived off of.
In the moment, I let it confuse me. I made it about the band on stage and questioned why they didn’t want more. I couldn’t understand how they could play this music that felt so close to what I was doing 20 years ago and how that could possibly be enough. How could they live in this time capsule?
I watched their whole set with these questions circulating. Then I watched my friend Carson and his band, The Callous Daoboys, tear the place apart. And when it was all over, I climbed into my 1998 Jeep Cherokee, a vehicle I’ve dumped far too much money into because I can’t stand the bulbous, styleless shapes of modern SUVs, and pulled the joystick out toward me to fire up the headlights. I put my dad’s Notre Dame hat on - a hat that regularly lands me in awkward conversations where I have to admit I don’t know anything about college sports and that I wear it purely for sentimental reasons. I drove home steeped in my own brand of nostalgia and found myself thinking about those kids that opened the show and thought to myself, good for them. I hope it never gets old.
THE RECORD CLUB
Last week’s selection was Squeeze - Cool for Cats (1979)
You can find my ramblings on last week’s record in the comment section below.
This week’s selection is…
Week #13
Sabrina Carpenter - Short n' Sweet (2024)
RECORD CLUB THREAD
WEEK #12
It’s been busy over here, folks. I never offered my thoughts on Lucinda Williams from week #11, and then I completely neglected to choose a record last week. I’ll keep it short for my Lucinda review of “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.” I enjoyed the record, but if I had to choose a favorite Lucinda LP, I’d go with “World Without Tears.” I don’t know that anything can ever compete with the song “Fruits Of My Labor,” as I first heard it when ending a 10 year relationship and the lyrics and feelings are forever cemented in me from that chapter of my life. It's tough to top that.
As for week #12, I had previously only known of Squeeze as the band that did “Tempted.” I’d never delved into the back catalog and it wasn’t until I saw a live video of them on an archival punk instagram page that I follow that I thought to ever give their records a listen. I am absolutely obsessed with this record. This may be my favorite find yet, as far as record club selections go. It feels like The Clash meets Elvis Costello. I think I’ve listened to “Up The Junction” 150 times in the last few weeks. If I wasn't so damn busy over here I'd have driven out to Joshua Tree to watch them play Pappy and Harriet's last week. I was so tempted to say screw it and just buy the ticket and make the 2 hour drive. Next time.
The Sabrina record is a pick from Sean, my record club partner. He’s determined to keep me abreast of anything going on in top 40, and since I’ve admittedly unplugged from the mainstream in the last year or so, I’m thankful, as there’s still plenty of good stuff there.
Thanks and hope you're all well.
I dream of going to a hardcore show in chain reaction one day. Great way to describe the vibe