Staying in Arlington for so long has made me antsy. After 17 years, I’ve been to all the stores in the area, been to the mall innumerable times and eaten at every establishment, excluding anything resembling vegan or primarily “healthy” food, given my disgust with anything resembling a vegetable. Subsequently, boredom blooms like uncontrollable ivy and frustration bubbles without any satiation in sight.
At an early age, I was injected with any and all music my parents enjoyed. I didn’t sing along to Disney CDs or the ABCs. Rather, I listened to those singing of lost loves, of worlds beyond our own (thank you for inspiring my love for space, Ziggy Stardust) and those that were masters of guitar. Through my father, I was soon introduced to his musical interests, including bluegrass, speed metal and the genre that changed everything – punk.
When I was younger, I didn’t really understand what punk singers were singing about or why they were so upset, but I liked the way Gordon Gano whined crookedly, how Cherie Currie told the world she was uncontrollable and how Joey Ramone sung almost unintelligibly. With age comes understanding and as soon as I revisited the genre, I fell in love. I was enthralled, in love beyond all belief. Finally, something that represented how I felt.
I was bored, feeling trapped in a small suburb that had nothing of entertainment to offer except a movie theatre and mini golf. No concerts at hole-in-the-wall venues, no places to explore for hours, no one that shared my interests or who found my crippling introvertedness entertaining. There was no culture and I felt misunderstood, lonely and frustrated. This does a number on the psyche and somehow secretly saps all the hope out of the soul. But now I had album after album of music to listen to that spoke directly to me, music that made me want to jump and scream, music that inspired creativity. These bands felt the same as me when it came to politics and equality, the riot grrrl movement making me proud to be who I was and inspiring me to be strong and unstoppable as a female.
So I cranked up the volume and drooled at the sounds of wailing guitars and scratching voices. DIY and punk go hand in hand, and I bought a large, green army jacket from Goodwill and cut it up to fit appropriately and sewed numerous patches on it of all my favorite punk bands – an outward sign to others of my beliefs and what bands to reference when I couldn’t exactly express myself. Despite all the clothes, albums and vinyl, it still wasn’t enough. I needed to be in it.
Despite major belief, punk is not dead – it’s simply hiding. It’s been hiding under mounds of pop singles and “entertainers,” not musicians, but rest assured, it’s still kicking and screaming. You just need to know where to look. My first punk show was nothing short of exciting and stress relieving. I discarded all insecurities at the door and screamed and pushed in the pit, feeling alive and became someone that I suppressed in my everyday life. I was allowed to express my frustration and enjoy loud music without any discipline. Having gotten a taste of how liberating being that close to live punk music could be, I wondered how it would feel to not just watch but participate.
I ran to the nearest Guitar Center, which isn’t near at all, and purchased a red Ibanez GSR200 4-string bass guitar. A couple months after playing with it and not getting where I wanted to be, I went back to get an electric guitar. An all black, glossy Epiphone Les Paul Special II was purchased cheaply, because what says punk rock like not being able to afford a better guitar. Regardless, I was in love with it. Amps soon began piling up: one purchased for $30 at a pawn shop, one from Amazon and two others found on the side of the road – I’d like to think the universe wanted me to get better sound quality when playing. So I began to play and I couldn’t be happier creating and learning.
Punk has done a lot for me. It’s my outlet in a town that has none, my inspiration when I feel defeated, my motivation to pick up the guitar and turn my amp all the way up in the silent hopes of blowing the speaker so I can upgrade with what little money I have. My love for writing can be applied to creating fanzines, my next endeavor. Even more, I want to join a band or create one so I can be that escape for the kid like me that feels frustrated with life. Maybe once I hit college, I’ll find those riot grrrls who are looking for a guitar player or at least a couple of people who think similarly when it comes to music. So many possibilities exist for me through this genre and I want to give a hearty thank you to my parents for making it a point to expose me to honest music at such a young age. So as I look for a band to join or people to simply play music with, fanzine collaborators and DIY aficionados, I’ll keep the music turned up and look forward to a future where I can be as creative as I want.
