Why Hardcore Sucks in ’07

It used to be that to really confirm the death of a subculture, it needed to be interred in an intellectual mausoleum. Documentaries and coffee table books are good tombstones, but it’s the after-death bowdlerization that really rubs the absence in. Friday’s student organization-funded concert in the Cobb basement is a fine example of the latter. It wasn’t a unique disappointment–nobody who experienced its first detonation has any current relevance; see Ian MacKaye’s recent tinkle-pop outings or better, a parody of his name’s success as an alternative porno director. So why waste space on a dead medium? Well, that’s all in the contrast of sad and pathetic. Forced Exposure readers who eBayed the Vile LP but were still psyched for its reissue are sad. But suburbanites too crippled by depression and wealth to work up a good hate, wearing Hot Topic (or is that interpunk.com?) Casualties tee shirts (alas, not Capitalist variety), confused by a pit where an overenthusiastic hipster overturns a table, are pathetic. Certain canons hold that hardcore rose out of the flames of disco records in Comiskey Park. Hardcore’s staggering zombie death lacks the catharsis to create anything interesting.

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