This is a quote from a piece Greg Bennick of Trial (Please, if you are not familiar with Trial, they were/are everything that was right about hardcore in the 90's, they are a classic now, you should know of them)wrote recently about their performance at this year's Rain fest. Their performance was scheduled to coincide with the anniversary of the death of their bassist and friend, Brian Redman, almost to the minute! Trial is a powerful band with a powerful message, and the sincerity of their message and love for humanity, animals, and the earth is true and real, with out pretense. Hardcore changed my life, completely.I found straight edge and Hardcore at a time in my life when I truly NEEDED it. Hardcore is a different form of art and culture than almost any other.Hardcore is a way of thinking, a way of living, a confrontation on a personal and mass level, through the power of music and art, of the world's ills and injustices; and a confrontation of the ills inside yourself.
So with that being said, and with permission from Greg Bennick of Trial, I want to post his message about Rain Fest and the significance of this culture to him.
Reflections on the Trial set at Rain Fest
"How did it go?"
That text came in at 2:30AM last night from someone in my life who has never been to a hardcore show, someone I met only recently with whom I had shared about the music, the band, our history, and the meaning of it all. How was I to respond in one text? How was I to describe how it went?
At first, I thought about saying "Wait til I write about it...so much happened." More could be said about the show last night than could ever fit into one note, one post, one text, one telling of the story. Because there were eight hundred versions of the story from last night, one from each person who was there and all completely valid. Where would I fit in the part about the kid who flew from Georgia to see the band who was so excited afterwards to say hi, or the part about the girl who simply said "thank you" to me afterwards with a depth of sincerity and heart in her eyes that came from the level of the soul. Where would I put in the part about what it felt like to play without Brian Redman our bassist who died twenty months, almost to the hour, before the set last night. And where would I fit in the part about how wonderful it was to play with Roger Kilburn, our new bassist, and his courage for stepping up to play with and to fully be a part of the band. Where would I describe sharing the stage with Rosie McPherson, Brian's mother. Or with Jake Conroy, devoted activist for free speech, animal rights, and trusted friend who shared inspiring and powerful words with the audience about solidarity and community in the face of the loss of our most basic civil liberties. Where would I put a description of love and respect for my band mates, with whom I share one heart and a singularity of passion and focus. Somewhere in the midst of that writing I would also have to make reference to every person in the room and hear what each of them felt and thought, and talk about the fest itself and how much work went into making this weekend happen, and somehow then reference all those who we miss so much who couldn't make it to the show, and then talk too about what it meant to me to play, to speak, to share.
But the question remains. "How did it go?"
How it went can be summed up in one experience that most of the people there weren't aware of. After the set a guy walked up to me and leaned in close to say thank you. As we embraced, he spoke to me and said, "Two of my friends died this morning in Iraq. I have been sober for years, and tonight all I was going to do was go home and get drunk. But coming here instead and seeing you guys made me realize that I want to keep my heart strong and stay clear and focused."
And in that moment is the answer to the question of what happened at the show last night. Drinking, and my personal feelings on it aside, what that moment was about is the courage in that young man's heart to look into the face of life, and of death, and be fully present. Present to the pain. Present to his fear. Present to those who survived who live on. He came into the show as one person, and was leaving as another person. That transformation was entirely his doing. Trial was simply the soundtrack, and everyone in the room supporting players to the story.
Hardcore at its best when it is filled with unbridled passion, energy, ideas, action, motion, intensity, and love. It looks like a room full of people losing their minds and hearts. It looks like bodies colliding and fists flailing. It sounds like a freight train colliding with a hurricane, plus guitars and screaming. At its best, hardcore hurts and thrives and feels like pure fire. But at the center of it all, when it all comes down, hardcore is about life. Its about what we feel and how the music and the experience of being a part of it guides the course of our lives as a result. In those moments of playing, life happens. That has always been the goal, to have that be true. Its not just screaming for the sake of words being shared. Its not about just jumping around. Its about feeling so deeply that its undeniable and about sharing sincerely even when we are terrified to do so. Its about connecting with others even though it feels safer to be alone, to be distant. Its about challenging ourselves to be a part of something, a part of other people, to give ourselves to others and to share and connect as if our very next breath depends on the ability of those around us to inhale and feel alive as well. And this happens on the scale of the room yes, but ultimately, hopefully, it happens one on one. When we can look another person in the eyes and share something, feel something, understand something together, we have crossed the greatest of distances. And to do so takes courage. To be in the moment. Without the patterns we live with. Without the armor we wear. Without the fear we often maintain.
Life only starts when resistance to our vulnerability ends.
So when that guy had the courage to feel, to connect, and then spoke to me last night, the entire essence of the band, of the show, of the night came into focus. The legacy of Brian Redman. The reason behind Rainfest. The motivation to do this band. One person, affected at the level of the heart and mind to the point where his life was changed. That is real. That is hardcore. That is Trial. That happened because of all of us.
And that, my dear friends, whom I respect so much and thank so deeply for being a part of last night and for all Trial shows yet to come, is what happened last night at Rainfest, at the first Trial show back in a very long time.
That, is how it went.
Trial (Full Set, original mix) from hate5six on Vimeo.
The above video is from the Burning Fight book release show, and the beginning always gives me goose bumps, our local friend, John Wheeler was there working the show that night, and said the intensity was amazing. I bet :)
Thank you again Greg, I hope you get a chance to see this.
Unrestrained by Trial
the wreckage of humanity has been strewn across the land
and now the hour of desperation is at hand
we the maggots feed off the dead seeking solace in a bed of broken glass
we bleed infected water beneath bright skins of polished steel
through empty, yearning, starved and frustrated hearts
which long for risk and reason
this is a standard and sterile half-life to lead
empty facades conceal slow decay
within these new dark ages which breed discontent
to give up all hope to see the dawn
reveals a victims face beneath the veneer
struggling to show that it's been wronged
led astray by the myths of the Father
with ancient wounds often ignored
fighting for scraps from the table while we slowly rot on the floor
struggling for balance amid these unholy lies
reflecting terror and chaos
we are born into suffering
with constructs icons, idols, and eyes
which manifest and forecast our fear of our own demise
but on the eve of the apocalypse
you can burn these words into my flesh:
“we are tortured and insane disillusioned and mundane
unknown and unnamed desperate and enslaved
and we want something more”
as an aside, last night, my twin brother, who lives in Los Angeles, was attacked by strangers when he was walking home, they tripped him then repeatedly kicked him, breaking his nose. This beating ironically happened 17 years to the day of the most violent night of our lives as kids (there is a blog below about that night). The world is sick and broken, hardcore works because it is made up of individuals (for the most part) that are compassionate and have mutual respect for each other.Imagine if the world worked that way? Take the lessons of Hardcore, and apply it to your life, and the world will start to slowly change.
"Hierarchy, dominance and submission, repression and power - these are facts of everyday life. Revolution is a process, and even the eradication of coercive institutions will not automatically create a liberatory society. We create that society by building new institutions, by changing the character of our social relationships, by changing ourselves - and throughout that process by changing the distribution of power in society. It is by the constant building of new forms of organization, by the continual critical evaluation of our successes and failures, that we prevent old ideas and old forms of organization from re-emerging."
- Carol and Howard J. Ehrlich
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