Friday, the 12th, was nothing short of an adventure. I walked into the HiFi venue and went straight back to the bar, ordering a double pour of Bulleit. I sifted through the hardcore crowd and got a stage-left viewing spot that was too good to pass up. Salem's Childe murdered the stage with beads of sweat, aggressively whipping off with every head bang by lead singer Johnny Oravsky.
Closest to me was Rob Salem, engulfed in fog but illuminated clearly by the purple and red glowing lights, pedal board in clear sight while he shredded his guitar. I snagged a photo of that 3-foot monster mid-show and asked him during intermission how many pedals he was actually equipped with. "Eleven, but I don't use them all," he said. Clearly a statement of modesty.
I cruised back to the bar waiting for that 30 min window until the next act. On my way, I almost tripped over a black shirt which I picked up, and it was a Doyle shirt someone had left on the floor. The unspoken rule of punk ethics doesn't allow me to assume the finder's keeper rule. I made my way to the merch booth and turned it in.
The crowd roared with excitement as Doyle took to the stage, lights now glowing a green haze. Girls screaming from the front row, dressed head to toe in their punk garb, head banging in synchronization to the drum kit roaring serious thunder. Mid-setlist, "Cemetery Sex," had everyone nodding in solemn approval. I think most of us have had or wish we had that experience. They know their audience, and Alex Story isn't afraid to show his enthusiasm for showmanship. At the end of Doyle, I returned to where my fellow crusties collected outside. Some of us were ready to keep the night buzzing. I eventually followed up to see if the rightful punk of that shirt had reclaimed their property. With clarification, I asked if I could have it. With a swift yes, I grabbed that sucker and traded it for a tall boy of Pabst.
I smashed it fast and thought about some of the conversations that were traded around a horror icon. There is a disconnect for me when I know someone is a celebrity. They are a foreign specimen in some respects. Did Doyle cross over? How do you identify and relate to someone, no matter their popularity? No matter their image? Punk isn't about image, so are we holding high expectations for him to show up and present himself a certain way to us? I think punk means something different to people. It's the age-old argument. To me, he's just another person in a sea of people. In some ways, it gives me the idea that he is just as complex and therefore deserves consideration. I don't put anyone on a pedestal. I won't shake the idea that any of us are infallible and that maybe there is some grace to be sought after. His fellow punks want to connect with him. That is the truth at its core. I hope the desire to connect with his fellow punks, no matter their notoriety or lack thereof, has not become beneath him. If it hasn't, how do we seek clarity on that front? That's a coffin I don't want to see nailed shut.
My night concluded with a loogie competition to forge a new friendship, walking a fellow punk to their car after they projectile vomited exorcist style all over a bench and mobbed with a few silver and gold homies back to our parking spaces. Fellow punks make shows what they are. We are all in this together. Even if it means ensuring a complete stranger has a blanket alongside that back seat and a safe parking space.
Photos by Rachel Wiederrich
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(3) comments
Pretty disappointed that Nuvo published an article like this. I'm no Misfits fan, but this middle-school style essay isn't where it's at. Indianapolis is starting to flourish as a booming arts town. Nuvo wants to ride that comet and re-legitimize itself as the voice of the art and music scene in a time of steep competition.
An article taking a low blow--no matter how poorly crafted it was--only encourages travelling musicians and their promoters not to work with Nuvo. The artist was kind enough to work Nuvo. They deserved a little tact in return.
It reflects poorly on the publication, and worse on our city.
I disagree. And I can say with absolute truth, Nuvo isn’t wanting to ride any certain wave. We would like different perspectives and people telling their experiences of what THEY thought and what they experienced. Also we aren’t trying to compete. This type of comments discourage people from wanting to write and honestly it’s just in total hater style.
Rachel, I thoroughly enjoyed your article. Middle school style essay is just her one opinion. I know it wasn’t easy for you to let the walls down and write something, and I’m not blowing smoke but I totally dig it. I took forward to reading more!!!
Madison, I’m disappointed you feel the need to express yourself in this way. And encourage you to write. Nuvo just isn’t this thing. It’s all of us collectively participating, sharing, and reporting that makes it Nuvo.
Madison, as someone who is a part of the punk culture, which you are not, I can understand why you might question my motives for writing this. Insulting me is in its own right, hypocrisy isn’t it? “Do as I say, not as I do,” isn’t an effective strategy if you are trying to make a point. I also can’t respect the emotional extremism you are projecting my way. These all or nothing statements about how this will impact NUVO and reflects badly on our city is entirely subjective and you do not speak for the entire population of Indianapolis. Also, Indianapolis is already flourishing as an artist community. If I decide to question the way in which my fellow punks perceive an icon and air that and their concerns to provoke some thought, it’s my prerogative. We are the community he is appealing to. For argument sake, if you want to be heard, you could always drop the holier than thou act and stay curious about what it is people may be trying to say and do. Asking questions goes a long way. Assumptions lack tact in and of itself but what do I know, I’ve got a middle school style vocabulary and writing capability. I hope you have a better day.
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