Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Ian MacKaye Was Here

Seeing Fugazi play live in 2001 was incredible. It was one of many concerts where I established a durable trend: I came solo and left solo. The feeling that everyone else in attendance came in packs was as overwhelming as my two previous trips to the 9:30 Club, and all I could do was dip deeper into anxious ennui waiting for the gig to start up. True to the classic form, music was the great unifier. All extant vibes of being a hapless outsider vanished as the sheer tightness of the performance eliminated the negative sphere I'd convinced myself I'd been standing in contempt of.

The band's "hiatus" has permitted the unpunished proliferation of an insidious, sneering commentary (almost invariably from people who aren't from DC) that writes off Fugazi, the grassroots scene it both sprung from and helped to evolve, and especially its singer/guitarist Ian MacKaye, a man and musician who dares pride himself on personal and artistic integrity. The disdain for MacKaye--a thoughtful, politically involved proponent of the don't-drink-smoke-fuck-eat meat ethos known as "straight edge"--can reach such a fever pitch that Fugazi are frequently written off because of it; if their public face is so ridiculously insufferable, goes this ill logic, how is the band worth any effort? This is how the genius of Repeater, et. al, goes neglected by someone who may actually appreciate what it offers.

All this has been inspired by a recent, stunning find from that haven for jaw-rattling discoveries: YouTube. It would seem that on 36 West Antietam Street there once stood the 180 Club. In 1998, Fugazi played there.

This sends my head spinning like a merry-go-round operated by a meth addict convinced that a diet of nothing but sugar and Mountain Dew is the key to expedite even more grotesque weight loss.

Fugazi...the band who drop kicked punk rock to the ground and forced it ever so politely to go stand with the other genres and eventually engage in temperamental play with them. The closest thing to an American Gang of Four that actually honors the comparison (completely, totally, making googly-eyes at Interpol here). The band that strove to never play a venue that would charge fans more than 10 bucks a head to see them perform. Who actually called out a pair of obnoxious concert attendees as fun-loving ice cream eaters. This racket-gang actually set up shop for one sweaty night in the city that gave birth to Kix...the city that is aiding and abetting the continued sonic offense of Jimmies Chicken Shack and Clutch with the Downtown Live concert series (still the number one cause of apoplectic seizures amongst the denizens as we speak)...the city which contains myriad street gangs bonded by their intense devotion to propagating horrid graffiti technique...the city that boasts 'bout 5 McDonalds (at least) but no Five Guys.

Fugazi in Hagerstown!

And me...oblivious to the greatest blessing bestowed upon Hagerstown since General Early got that 20 grand.

I'm not sure whether to love or hate YouTube right now.

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