(Not so) Fucked Up

So, my First Love was/is a straight-edge hardcore punk rocker. For years a good friend of mine found it really funny to say things like "Meghan works for the Children's Peace Theatre and her ex-boyfriend is in a band called Fucked Up." Admittedly, the polarity is somewhat amusing, but he's really just kind of a loud-mouthed teddy bear. Incidentally, our break-up (which began about 6 years ago now) was an incredibly long and painfully drawn-out ordeal which resulted in us finally not really speaking to one another for a number of years. However, just recently we reconnected and have found that we can be friends! He's happily married now too. Which is not at all surprising to me, and also makes me very happy for him, truly.

So anyhow, right now I am in Vancouver, the city I grew up in but visit somewhat rarely. I actually happen to be here production managing a really great play ("The Burning Bush" written & performed by Tracey Erin Smith, Soul-O Theatre) which will be performed at the Chutzpah Festival here this week (www.chutzpahfestival.com). Strangely enough, Damian, my Ex, is here this weekend as well, on tour with his band 'Fucked Up'. So of course, I had to go to check out his show last night.

After the first few terrifyingly "high energy" songs, both the crowd in the mosh pit, and the tensed muscles in my body, relaxed slightly. And though I remained firmly pressed up against a pillar that allowed me to "safely" watch the show from the centre of the pub, and from just behind the mosh pit, I was able to somewhat enjoy simply watching the craziness that is a hardcore show. Clearly, this is not my bag. But I have to say, it's not like I find it impossible to understand. Sure, it seems a little scary and un-safe to push and thrash and jump around like they do at these shows (or at the good ones atleast), but I must admit that it does not appear necessarily violent or vindictive. In fact, I noticed that everytime someone actually fell to the floor, at least two or three hands were immediately stretched down by the nearest "moshers", to pull this person back to their feet. Now that's community working for ya! And I've enjoyed enough nights out dancing to appreciate the pent up physical energy that gets released by such activity, and as long as I remained firmly pressed up against my pillar, I could enjoy and appreciate the release of energy as it exploded all around me.

Still, I feel that I must have stuck out like a sore thumb, or atleast a slightly sprained pinky finger. As I looked around I felt like I was the only one who wasn't nodding my head rythmically or shouting along with the lyrics. But in reality, I don't really think anyone noticed me at all. It was during the second to last song that a friendly faced, totally sweaty and tatooed dude came up to me and asked if I would hold his beer for a moment. "Sure" I said with an amused smile, and as he handed me his beer to babysit he also handed me his baseball hat. He went and jumped and thrashed around for a bit and then returned to my side. He looked at me (and probably noticed the somewhat strained expression on my face - hey, the last two songs really had the crowd going wild, I was a little scared again) and asked me, "So, what are you doing here?" Finally, the question I had imagined everyone around me to be thinking.

"That's my ex-boyfriend" I replied and pointed to Damian, the, uh, "Lead Vocalist" for the band. After asking me a few more key questions along the lines of "So you're from Toronto?" "Well, originally I'm from here, but yes I do live in Toronto now", "Does he know you're here?" "Yes", "So you're friends?" "Yes", and then some question about another Toronto hardcore band that revealed that I had absolutely no knowledge or interest in this scene, that made him reflect "So you went out with him (pointing onstage to Damian) but you aren't into hardcore at all? Hmm... Well, he actually seems like he's really just a big crazy teddy bear." I smiled, "Something like that." And then Scott, as he introduced himselt to me as, went on to tell me about his hippy girlfriend who rides a ten-speed and isn't really into hardcore either, but that's okay, because sometimes opposites attract, right? And it was an oddly sweet experience to chat with this random punk-rocker who wasn't at all hitting on me, at my ex-love's show, in Vancouver, in February 2007.

After the show I needed to get going pretty quick - I have to work today! - but as Damian walked with me through the bar, to escort me to hail a cab outside, my spirit was warmed by the friendly and generous attitude of absolutely everyone we passed. Several people, whom I learned were complete strangers to Damian, would come up and give him a hug or a high five as though they were old friends and say genuinely gracious, yet casual, things like "Thanks so much for coming out here man." How lovely. I mean, I've been to enough indie-rock shows in Toronto to make note here that I never really saw such a casual warmth like that when I frequented that scene. Whether that says more about Toronto and Vancouver, or the hipster indie-rock scene versus the hardcore punk rock scene, I don't know (though I have a pretty strong feeling it's reflective of the latter). I just know that although I don't plan on attending another punk rock show anytime soon, it's not at all because I think there is something wrong with it. In fact, my 'Fucked Up' night just might go down as one of the least fucked up nights I've ever spent in Vancouver. So, thanks Damian. XXX OOO