Columns

Blank Generation

“Everything is infinite, nothing is eternal”
—Martha 

Well. I got The Email today. I couldn’t quite believe it until I spent the rest of the day lying in bed and listening to Dork Rock Cork Rod and crying. It’s kinda stupid, I guess. Or at least that’s how it would seem to most of the world. I spend enough energy trying to tell myself that punk rock matters in a big way. How am I supposed to get other people to understand that? As someone who is just starting to put her life in the hands of this… movement, or whatever you want to call it, it’s depressing to see a fantastic and irreplaceable idea that you can hold in your own two hands unable to continue to sustain itself. 

This feeling reminds of when I was somewhere around the age of seven, listening to “Do You Remember Rock N Roll Radio?” by The Ramones. I was lying in bed, with the covers pulled over my head, and having a total existential crisis. I didn’t know anything about DIY punk, I didn’t know that punk bands still existed, and I was still mostly listening to stuff in my dad’s CD collection. Although I fell in love with the song because of the awe-inspiring power of the music, the lyrics totally depressed me. If rock’n’roll was on the verge of becoming “just part of the past” all the way back at the end of the ’70s (which was about a million years ago for me back then), the it must be really dead in 2010. And if it was dead, then I’d never get to do it. I didn’t have a concrete idea of was doing it involved, just that it had to be done and I wanted to be doing it. 

For better or worse, MRR shaped a part of who I am. I think it was the first zine I bought myself. I’ve discovered countless bands by going through every entry in the reviews section and circling the ones that seem like something I would like (yeah, I know I’m a loser). I was asked if I wanted to do this column, and even though I’ve never done anything remotely like this before, I went for it, because I’d regret it if I didn’t. I am 

grateful that I’ve gotten to be a small part of almost half-century long history of this magazine, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to accept this shitty ending happily. To the board: your magazine taught us how to see through bullshit, how to tell when we’re being treated unfairly, and, most importantly, what to do next. Print media will only die if you let it. Punk rock will be dead to you when you’re the one trying to fuck over the kids. Things are brewing underground, so keep your eyes and ears open. Long live the open-minded, and long live honest punk rock.