Biblical, I feel like we’re experiencing more than just minor ball-tappings - are we not ‘Job’?  

Whats next? Welts all over our fucking bodies?  
What I really say is…through thick and thin, and sorry Michael you weren’t there, tonight was the best night ever.  I fucking hated and played So sloppy buttfuckit thats punk/rock.  at least our harmonies were on. 
craig played a bit too much guitar, thats the only complaint i had..
one too many songs.

I guess, What I’m getting @ is….well, if there was a God, the trucker wouldnt of just blasted through that goddamn deer as it lay unconsciously on the pavement…thats just fucked up. 
“fuck, is my car fuck’d up?” Get out; cars fine.  Deer is dancing in the road, literally toe-tapping, beebopping - fucking wasted - just walking into cars @ 11:30 @night.  Stumbldancin, the poor thing hits the ground.
At this point I was thinking, ‘fuck the deer’

“I WANA C IT”
u know what i’m saying?; c’mon craig, whatre u gonna pull it to the side of the road and let it suffer?  
I’ll help.  
we all run assisting in helping this animal suffer when out comes GOD [in semi/bus form] and, well, that deer raised its fucking head for the last time.  literally saw the bright light comin’ atcha. 

“BOOhBAH”
all im really saying is, I just wanted to see that deer suffer.

- Kris Wildermuth

The idea that fame corrupts talent depresses me to no end. How did Billy Joel, Elton John, Queen, and the Beatles write thousands of songs as famous musicians and not lose the spark because it went to their head? I had a conversation similar to this with my friends from Brooklyn recently, and they concurred, “what happened to that band?” “They got famous.”

I’m listening to Say Anything’s new record and for whatever reason, I’m wasting my own time by reading the singer’s breakdown of every song on Alternativepress.com simultaneously. Not to mention other numerous lyrical nauseations throughout the record’s duration, there’s a song “Crush’d” about his future wife Sherri Dupree. He explains that it

“Distills my feelings so accurately about when Sherri and I first started talking that it means a lot to her too. It meant as much to me that she loved it and it I wanted her to love it as much as any other person that heard it… If no one ever heard it and it was a song that I just wrote for Sherri, I would be happy because it would let her know things that I can only express in a song.”

Does she dote? Fall head over heals over flattering lines like, “you’re no witch, you’re no wench. You’re like Bjork with better fashion sense.” or “Possibility, that I’m your guy. Though I suffer from dyslexia, mild man-orexia, and my hair cannot commit to one popular genre of music.” The depth, and sincere idolatry conveyed by such prose would make even the hardest of hearts melt. Do these people even reflect on the scribbles on the notebook page before they record it? I can’t get behind something that sounds like it should be signed “Do you like me? Circle Yes, or No” at the bottom. They will never release another record like “Is a Real Boy…” and that sucks. Perhaps this is why Against Me! and Greenday catch so much shit for “selling out.” It’s hard to believe every word of a record, to get them tattooed on your skin, to name your band after song titles or albums, to defend them on message-boards, and have them literally betray you by mediocrity. Saves The Day, Weezer, Against Me!, and a host of other flag-bearers of disappointment, pull out your old releases and listen to them.

Take the Descendents for example. Milo was off achieving All through Bio-Chemistry between 1987 and 1995. The record they wrote before his departure was alright, but when he got back they wrote their most recognizable record, “Everything Sucks.” They were already legendary (“Milo Goes To College” was an essential punk album, Bill Stevenson, former drummer of Black Flag, was recording every punk band that mattered, and All was releasing acclaimed albums), and wrote an album that almost no one can argue with. Not to mention, “Cool To Be You” being released in 2004, which is arguably their catchiest, and most focused effort ever put forth. Most bands can’t claim more than two undeniably awesome full lengths, especially when your career spans 1979-2004. The only logical thing I can associate it with, is the fact that The Descendents was never their meal ticket. They always had other things on the side (Bio-Chemistry, The Blasting Room, All, Only Crime, etc.), and were never fully able to let fame consume their talent.

In the words of Chris Conley, “Get that burn back, scorch your stomach, bleed that passion lost. Don’t forget what picked you up, don’t forget to think this time.” And answer this question before you release something, “Will people care about this decades from now?”

Not to toot my own horn, but I can not get over the caliber of bands coming out of the North East. I was talking to a kid who just got back from a full US tour, and he was telling me that kids as far away as Texas and Arizona, not to mention across the Atlantic Ocean are taking notice of these young bands. Check out them out, not for my sake, but for your own conscience. The stuff is good.

Massachusetts:
Transit
The Stereo State
Maker
Half Hearted Hero

New Jersey:
Crucial Dudes
Man Overboard

New York:
After the Fall
The Marine Electric
Agent
Rust Belt Lights
Such Gold
Longitude
The Knockdown

Connecticut:
Make Do and Mend
My Heart to Joy

Pennsylvania:
Tigers Jaw
Everyone Everywhere
Daylight

There are so many more, I could be on here all night listing bands. It’s so difficult to write new music when so many of your friends’ bands are absolutely blowing your mind. We’ve all got a lot of listening to do.

On Sunday we all woke up at 6 AM and drove to New Bedford, MA to record some demos at The Soundbox with Clinton from Half Hearted Hero. We got all of the drum and guitar tracks finished and should have something up on the myspace in the next month or so. We demo’d “Coney Island,” “Our Miracles,” “Flag Folding” (which Clinton thinks sounds influenced by Propagandhi), and “Make Believe.” Should be going in for a long weekend to finish the rest!

Jay quit the band. He wants to figure his 18 year old life out and is more than entitled to do just that. If you are really into Crowbar and smoking weed strains with names get in touch with him. He’s going to finish up the rest of our shows and I think Ian from Half Hearted Hero is going to fill in on drums for our winter east coast tour. Long story short: no worries. We’re trying some kids out and have no intention of breaking up. Play drums? Get at us.

When my girlfriend Christine first heard that lyric to Polar Bear Club’s “Our Ballads” she asked if it was a joke. I explained that the song was about a middle-aged man’s misunderstanding of PBC’s message. That the “Lawyer Rocker” thought that through screaming, and heavy guitars they were perpetuating a gender divide within hardcore and punk rock. Christine responded, “They are.”

I let that message sit for awhile. This band was upset that anyone would consider their music an avenue for chauvinism and blamed anachronistic gender stereotypes for the belief that girls would only enjoy ballads. The problem is, Jimmy was only looking at his own songs, not the shows his band plays and the behaviors exhibited at said shows. In my girlfriends eyes, hardcore encourages unity around words and understanding: male unity. Young men dance hard in the pit, jump on each others shoulders, fight for the microphone, and often make it dangerous or impossible for others to have a good time (unless you equate potential bodily harm as a good time). This creates “pit patriarchy,” or a continuum of masculinity that feminizes those males that don’t want their head walked on or their face punched, and pushes females who feel the same way against the wall or out of the venue. If you disagree consult any number of b9board posts dedicated to bands losing credibility because they’ve become “your girlfriend’s favorite band,” that famous picture of the chubby girl two-stepping, mentions of “no clit in the pit,” and so on and so forth. Maybe I’m stuck in 2001, but I think these gender polarizations still exist.

In essence, “Hardcore is a boy’s club.” I am in no way insinuating that Polar Bear Club is consciously perpetuating that fact, are chauvinists themselves, or are in the wrong for making the music that they do. I love the band and continue to make music myself. However, I believe there needs to be changes made and promoted through thought, word and action. Bands need to make sure everyone is having a good time. If alpha-males are forcing women who know the words against the wall or people with glasses away from the front out of fear of breaking them, or any number of other scenarios that alienate the many for the enjoyment of the few, we need to say something about it. I know far too many intelligent, forward thinking people through hardcore that unknowingly add to this problem. I am not above it either: We all suffer from our own personal biases and prejudices that are a product of our experiences, surroundings, and upbringing. It is when we begin to identify and address these prejudices that we can begin to rise above them. But hey, you might not think it’s a problem, and more than likely I’ll see you at a show sometime soon. Either way, this should give you something to think about and at the very least disagree with.

- Tony

Polar Bear Club songs can be heard at http://www.myspace.com/polarbearclub

Over the weekend, I attended an art exhibit in downtown Albany with some friends. It was in a gorgeous but dilapidated 19th century Cathedral style church, complete with high ceilings, enormous pipe organ, handsome stained glass, and ten foot murals depicting biblical scenes and vast scores of angelic choirs. As soon as we entered the church we knew that the artists would have a hard time showing there. First, the room immediately takes you in. Like any other beautiful, old building, the architecture is too grandiose, intricate, and ominous to lead your attention anywhere else. Imagine trying to express yourself artistically in a space that is breathtaking art itself? Second, I couldn’t help but feel like something was being desecrated. Some of the artists were blatantly critiquing organized religion (i.e. prayer hands as bombs, a painting of a Godzilla-like Jesus destroying a city, blind sheep with cloth over their eyes, etc.) which, I guess, is their prerogative if the Albany Historic Preservation Society is allowing them to use the space to show art pieces as they see fit. What I have more of a problem with is painting upon the crumbling walls of the church.

Maybe it really pissed me off because, in my personal opinion, the art that will now remain on these church walls forever was pointless, cliché, or just plain stupid. I learned later that the “Blind Sheep” Stencil was already there, meaning someone broke into the abandoned church between 1993 and 2009 and decided to “boldly” deface the wall of a religious institution with no one there to be offended by their actions. Cool, that makes me feel slightly better about how lame it is. What I don’t feel good about is the “Gnome Room,” off of the alter (I believe called the lecturne???) in which a priest once upon a time blessed thousands of heavenly hosts for devout and loyal parishioners. Now in its stead lies a room that, other than the dozen neon gnomes painted haphazardly upon its face, is bloated from leaky ceilings and pealing from years of neglect. If I was an “artist” and wanted to be so daring as to update the ancient beauty of a church with my own “art,” I would make damn sure it meant something! I don’t care what or who you believe in, people cried and prayed and laughed and sang in the presence of their God in that Church. People cared so much about those walls and what they represented only for someone to come along and paint a Gnome on it. Whether or not there is a God has little relevance, it’s about having some God damn respect.

I wish this was the only disappointing aspect of my trek into the squalor of Albany’s modern art “scene.” Apart from the loud music, embarrassing dancing, and alcohol consumption, it has come to my attention that one of the artists has expropriated the idea for her work from Germany. A woman in Berlin decided to take guerrilla art to an in-your-face but tame direction when she came up with the idea to become a “Papergirl” (http://www.papergirl-berlin.de/). Her and her art friends wrapped paintings, photographs, prints, and the like as if they were scrolls and using bicycles distributed them freely to passersby, forcing their artistic expression upon people who might not be so willing to walk into a gallery or rub elbows with berets. In a city like Berlin this type of thing might be acceptable or even welcomed. Berlin was absolutely destroyed in World War II so it’s relatively new in that all of its architecture is from the 50s, 60s, and 70s, with even its most archaic looking buildings simply modern remakes of their original designs. It was also a city divided for a huge chunk of the 20th century with the Soviet Union encroaching from the East and the Liberal usurpers “preventing the spread of Communism” from the West. I might be on the wrong track, but after such a tumultuous recent history Berlin could have evolved into a friendly, unified city unafraid of change and “newness” in the 21st Century. Unfortunately, a young woman has decided to recreate this in Albany, the exact same way, using the same name (http://alloveralbany.com/archive/2009/09/03/papergirl). Unfortunately, there is very little “new” about Albany, unless you count that exodus of closed minded frat-boys and party girls into the city every year to buy pizza, vomit, and throw their garbage everywhere. Most of the people I know (including college age kids, middle class adults, and Arbor Hill constituents) would be completely turned off by the idea of receiving a photograph from some artsy fuck on a bike. Not only that but its A BLATANT RIP OFF OF SOMEONES ORIGINAL WORK! I thought only musicians could make a fortune off of stealing someone else’s work and presenting it as their own (Ben Gibbard or Adam Young? http://www.myspace.com/owlcity). A huge portion of the church was sectioned off to accommodate for the watercolor paintings and nude photos of pregnant women that would be handed out in the “Papergirl Albany” Project, not to mention sculptures of bikes with Christmas lights draped over them. How does this merit a huge section of a church art gallery or extensive coverage in an Albany blog?

Which leaves me with one unfortunate question:

If the blessed walls of a hundred year old Church and the original ideas of a German artist aren’t untouchable, what is sacred?

- Tony

Caleb Lionheart started in the summer of 2007, as an idea for a solo project I had wanted to make for a long time. I had just gotten off of a full US tour with Aficionado, and was really itching to make my own music. I had written a few songs alone in my room with an acoustic guitar but I really wanted to sing in a fast, melodic punk band in the same vein as my personal musical deities (i.e. Chris Conley, Dan Yemin, Vinny Caruana, Fat Mike, etc). I asked Kris Wildermuth if he had some free time, and the rest of it kind of fell into place after that. At first I wrote about what a sophomore in college usually writes about: girls, restlessness, growing up. But as I continued to dredge my own conscience for inspiration I started to realize that I wanted to critique the world around me. Haven’t we heard enough songs about a young, sensitive 20 something’s search for love in Suburban America? I thought so, and continue to.

I was once told by Kyle Chapman of Farewell Party Records that everything you sing needs to be truth or no one will care about it. I whole heartedly agree, but truth is such an intangible subjective based solely on points of view, opinions, and “facts.” My conception of truth may be totally different than yours. The poverty, depravity, and hopelessness I see on a daily basis in downtown Albany might be completely different than what you read about in your local newspaper, or keep on in the background as you sip your coffee in the morning. I reflect my surroundings and influences as best I can, but they might contradict your personal outlook. That contradiction does not mean we can not support each other. If I ever offend anyone with lines like “The sky is empty, we’re alone in the world” or “A thousand paper cranes over Nagasaki,” I sincerely apologize (see “Eyes To An Empty Sky” and “Adrenaline” in our Some Lyrics myspace blog http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=147149637&blogId=257662485). I would be doing a disservice to everyone that comes to see our band play, to my band-mates, and even myself if I pretended to be passionate about things I could care less about. Whether you are liberal, conservative, rural, urban, suburban, drive a smart-car or a Hummer, believe in God(s), or are in doubt, it doesn’t matter: differences make us human. I sure as hell didn’t vote for John McCain, but one of our friends nicknamed “The Republican” sports a Caleb Lionheart tattoo.

I can’t express to you how good it feels to hear a crowd of people screaming “WHAT WILL BECOME OF US!?!” I can’t express to you how good it feels to see men, women, black, red, white, orange, and green coming together under the auspices of punk, rock, or hardcore. It’s been two years, I’m not convinced it won’t be two more. If anyone ever has a problem with what I sing, or would like to initiate intelligent, thought provoking political, religious, or social discourse with myself, or anyone else in my band, we would be more than happy to talk with you. Jay might want to discuss his views of “alien assistance,” and Wild might want to blow your mind with the latest fucked up news article, but for the most part we are all completely willing to talk with anyone about just about anything. You’re just as much a part of this as I am. In the words of Kid Dynamite, “We’re all singing along to the same tune, just like you. Big deal, we wrote it… Now it’s time to promote it. Remember, we’re all in this together.” Now rip the microphone out of my hand, make the stage yours, and sing all the words you know no matter what they mean to you. See you soon.

- Tony