The Pit
Last night's concert was a lot of fun. I went hoping to have a good time and hear some good music and I was not disappointed.
I was able to once again witness that magnificent mess that is the punk rock mosh pit. I don't how many of you have been subjected to my babble regarding what I believe to be one of the greatest cultural phenomenons to come out of the latter half of the 20th century, but if you have, I apologize for this gratuitous indulgence.
The type of mosh pit that I'm referring to is of the smaller more intimate kind. Not the bloody mess born of festival thrash metal in which the strongest or stupidest attempt to beat the living crap out of one another. Those have their own goals and purposes. But it's in these smaller venues that a working microcosm of anarchist punk philosophy rises out of the ambivalent the dance floor.
Last night, we were all hanging around soaking in the funky house sound of MGMT and it was all very chill. Next, on comes Anti-Flag, who are neither the most inspiring looking guys, nor the most melodic. But up they come, ready to give what I thought would be the normal lip-sevice: "Hello Sacramento, blah blah blah." Instead he rises a fist in the air and passionately proclaims,
"Brothers and sisters: Take care of each other. Respect each other... AND FUCK SHIT UP."
Instantly, the floor erupts into a desperately gyrating, flailing, celebratory riot which soon forms itself into a circle of pinballing individuals and the bouncers propping them up, keeping everyone upright and moving.
Hands outstretched, we reach for one another - to shove, to jostle, to catch, and often just to connect. Reckless abandon. Safety in numbers. Camaraderie in conflict.
The beauty of the pit is that it doesn't work without both aggression and compassion. The moshers and bouncers. I've watched pits fail when, timid and scared, people step back and avoid. Refusing to push back when pushed. Or when the pit gets too violent. When we stop looking out for each other and when someone falls they have to pick themselves up. Then it collapses. No one has a good time. You're either frustrated or afraid.
And there it is. Simple, dynamic, organic, honest, eloquent: When someone pushes, push back. When someone falls, pick them up.
This is how the world could work. This is how we think it should. And here in a small sense, this is where it does.
Brother and sisters: Take care of each other. Respect each other. And fuck shit up.
I was able to once again witness that magnificent mess that is the punk rock mosh pit. I don't how many of you have been subjected to my babble regarding what I believe to be one of the greatest cultural phenomenons to come out of the latter half of the 20th century, but if you have, I apologize for this gratuitous indulgence.
The type of mosh pit that I'm referring to is of the smaller more intimate kind. Not the bloody mess born of festival thrash metal in which the strongest or stupidest attempt to beat the living crap out of one another. Those have their own goals and purposes. But it's in these smaller venues that a working microcosm of anarchist punk philosophy rises out of the ambivalent the dance floor.
Last night, we were all hanging around soaking in the funky house sound of MGMT and it was all very chill. Next, on comes Anti-Flag, who are neither the most inspiring looking guys, nor the most melodic. But up they come, ready to give what I thought would be the normal lip-sevice: "Hello Sacramento, blah blah blah." Instead he rises a fist in the air and passionately proclaims,
"Brothers and sisters: Take care of each other. Respect each other... AND FUCK SHIT UP."
Instantly, the floor erupts into a desperately gyrating, flailing, celebratory riot which soon forms itself into a circle of pinballing individuals and the bouncers propping them up, keeping everyone upright and moving.
Hands outstretched, we reach for one another - to shove, to jostle, to catch, and often just to connect. Reckless abandon. Safety in numbers. Camaraderie in conflict.
The beauty of the pit is that it doesn't work without both aggression and compassion. The moshers and bouncers. I've watched pits fail when, timid and scared, people step back and avoid. Refusing to push back when pushed. Or when the pit gets too violent. When we stop looking out for each other and when someone falls they have to pick themselves up. Then it collapses. No one has a good time. You're either frustrated or afraid.
And there it is. Simple, dynamic, organic, honest, eloquent: When someone pushes, push back. When someone falls, pick them up.
This is how the world could work. This is how we think it should. And here in a small sense, this is where it does.
Brother and sisters: Take care of each other. Respect each other. And fuck shit up.