Pose Hard, Show Your Scars

Cold World - Essen 11/07/09
After a weird and lonely night alone in a big empty house, since my parents had left for the weekend, taking Charlotte with them, i woke up way too late and had to hurry to be at Marijn's place in time. I rushed through the chores my mom had set out for me, jumped into the car and first went to pick up Silas. On arriving at Marijn's place in Ruiselede, his mother had prepared some really delicious cucumbersoup, so we were provided with all the energy one needs to handle the 3 hour trip (which eventually became 2 hours, thanks to M's "I try to stay under the 130 km/h mark"-driving skills). Our friend Gertjan completed the bunch, and off we were. Let me just say about the roadtrip that 2 hours is absolutely nothing when you have the Lonely Island songs to sing along too.

We arrived in Essen somewhere in the afternoon, so we had a couple of hours left to explore the city. Unfortunately, we quickly discovered that it might not be the most exciting place in Germany. Some of us got really siked over the big corporate American chains there, but the most entertaining part was probably the coverband, playing Nickelback and Tina Turner songs (did you ever notice how 'Simply the Best' is written to be repeated over and over again?) for an audience that looked like it was still recording those songs from national radio onto cassettes (i don't mean this in a cool retro-hipster kind of way). We also had a little mini-quest for a special kind of chocolate that Marijn needed, but we failed, which bummed him out way more than he'd like to admit. Even the disco-wall in the trainstation couldn't cheer him up.

Elle came alone by train, 5 fucking hours to see a hardcore band. Try to explain to anyone not involved, they'll say your mad, but somehow for us those kind of things make sense, and don't even seem to be that much of a deal.
Arriving at the venue, there was some commotion, as some guy with a blood & honour tattoo and a toolkit was trying to provoke a fight. Pretty stupid if you ask me, since there were about 500 kids there, but no one ever said you had to be smart to be right-wing. In the end nothing bad happened, but apparantly the guy had drawn a knife somewhere, and it ended with 6 policemen entering his house to drink a cup of coffee.

The show itself. I wasn't really in the mood, i have to admit, but the first band of the evening that i enjoyed was True Colors, although i'm not a huge fan of their type of music. I love how the singer spreads his energy on stage, going completely crazy while remaining in touch with the audience and having zero rock 'n roll attitude (which can't really be said of every band that evening). He also dedicated a song to his daughter, which isn't that uncommon maybe, but it struck me as really sweet.
Other bands i saw were Dirty Money and Justice, and Cold World ofcourse. I'm suddenly becoming aware of the fact that i hate to write reviews about hardcoreshows. It's just really hard to explain without sounding like a retard or using the same expressions over and over again. Let's just say that Dirty Money and Cold World were really hard, and a lot of people got hurt and put pieces of paper in their noses to stop the bleeding, which looked kind of ridiculous. Oh, and there were a lot of girls in the pit. 'Only in Germany'.

The show in Essen also marked the starting point of the trip a friend of mine was going to make through Germany, hitchhiking and camping on his own for two weeks, endpoint being the Fluff Fest in the Czech Republic. As much as i admire his bravery, I really hope to meet him again there in good health and dying to share his stories with us, and i hope he finds at least a piece of whatever he's looking for in those two weeks on his own.

Travel light

If you think about it, many of the things that make you feel miserable in your daily life are a direct result of some deeply rooted inertia, a lack of energy combined with fear of falling out of the blue open sky in midflight, while also being completely conscious about everything you're missing out on: the feeling of accomplishment after a reckless adventure, the mental or physical touch of a stranger that strikes you with such warmth that you feel it for weeks, months, lifetimes to come, the memory of a warmth that has abandonned you, and you're not sure if you'll be able to ever relive it. It's like hearing the rythm of your favourite poem in your head, but forgetting the words and the meaning in time. Everything fades into a blur, and you see yourself in the centre with a million eyes fixed on you, filled with expectations, their image of you nothing but that: an image, a shallow 2D representation reality, with no regard to how you move, how you sound, what goes on inside and brings you to your everyday expressions. How easy it is to forget oneself when turned into the object of their gaze.



It's never easy to stop the train of thoughts, especially when it's derailed and seems to be going nowhere, an aimless projectile, bound to hit something really hard, really soon. Sometimes it just takes a beautiful day and a genuine smile, encounters with people that move you, inspire you and make the future seem worthwhile. Change is something that grows from the inside out, sinks into everything that surrounds you and makes sure that nothing ever looks the same.
It's summer and I want to live in this forever.

I want to conclude this little rant with some words that I stole from the site of a French screamoband called Baron Noir. It has everything and nothing to do with what's written above, but it somehow seemed appropriate. Either way, I never came across a better description of what this type of music and community means to me.



Conscients que la musique ne pourra jamais suffire à changer quoi que ce soit, c'est pourtant elle qui nous permet quotidiennement de cracher ce qu'on est obliger de retenir, la rage intime qui nous constitue plus que ce que le monde nous impose. C'est à cette rage qu'on reconnaît les nôtres et c'est sur elle que se fondent nos rencontres. On la braille dans un micro pour toucher ceux et celles qui s'y reconnaissent et se renforcer mutuellement. Parce que les seuls espaces de liberté possibles sont ceux qu'on prend, vole ou crée. ça ne va pas plus loin que ça. baise les artistes.