Life Harvester #š¤·š»āāļø: Your Favorite Thing
Life Harvester is written byĀ Colin HagendorfĀ and edited by Rebecca Giordano. This is the email version of a print publicationĀ available forĀ low-cost individual subscription viaĀ PaypalĀ or onĀ Patreon. Life Harvester subscriptions are free to prisoners. If you know an incarcerated person who would like to receive a newsletter every month, get in touch with me directly and Iāll take care of it.
DONāT BREAK YOUR NECK WHEN YOU FALL DOWN LAUGHING
Inspired by Davey Davis, Iāve decided to do a little round up your five favorite moments from this past year of Harvesting. An email exclusive! Life Harv is and always will be a print publication first and foremost, but itās been nice to have the digital edish where I can include color pictures of the dogs or add links for a more interactive reading experience. Real heads know that those benefits are no match for the sheer joy of opening an envelope and reading off an actual piece of paper, but Iām a modern gal, I like to keep up with the times. Iāve been moving my writing around the internet since Lifejournal. Why would now be any different?
Thanks to the magic of analytics, the assessment of āfavoriteā is based primarily on whatās been read and shared the most. From there, Iām just guessing which part people liked best based on Golnar from Gaz or Harris from Glue texting me compliments. Why do I only get feedback from hardcore singers? Iād like to take a moment to encourage drummers, bassists, even those who identify as ālead guitarā to write in as well. Hell, literally everyone should write me whenever you feel like telling me you enjoyed something or telling me off! Iāve been doing zines for a quarter century (my first ever fanzine will be old enough to rent a car in 2021) and itās always been about sending a signal out into the universe hoping to hear a signal back this entire time.
ANYWAY, on with the show:
A friend of mine who works with young people recently texted the group chat to ask if we were familiar with the band Drug Church. A young person she worked with had discovered that she was into hardcore and thought she might like them. She was curious if any of us other aging punks were acquainted. None of us were. The two women with boyfriends in the chat asked their beaus, though, and the boyfriends were in agreement: Drug Church sucks. āTheyāre Ceremony-core,ā it was reported that one boyfriend exclaimed. āThe singer masturbates and eats it because he āwonāt spill his seedā,ā said another.
I was curious about a band that had provoked such ire in the male partners of two women I hold in high esteem, so I gave them a listen. Drug Church make music that I can only describe as āPissed JeansĀ for stupid people,ā or maybe āincelĀ Wrangler Brutes,ā palatable grunge fronted by a former male model. The lyrics, by and large, are sardonic send ups of middle-class convention, oftentimes told in the second person. The narrator of the songs is addressing a āyou,ā the presumably male listener, failing to live up to bourgeois standards. The major faults here are that the singer isnāt smart or funny and that he seems to perceive himself as a victim. While bands like Pissed Jeans or Wrangler Brutes trade in similar subject matter, those bands respective lyricists are both brilliant and funny writers whose lyrics evoke the claustrophobia of late capitalism, aware of the absurdity of their circumstances and their powerlessness to change them without whining about how hard it is to be a cis white man.
This is now a review of the singer: store-brand Sam McPheeters withĀ V for VendettaĀ politics. Imagine if Ricky Gervais had a neck tattoo. Most pictures of the band I was able to find online are taken from angles that make him seem taller than his bandmates, when in a handful of other photos he actually seems to be shorter than them. My least favorite kind of insecure man. Becca says he looks like Tony Hawk, suggests we call him Wony Walk in the classic Mario/Wario naming convention. I found an interview with him inĀ ForbesĀ (LOL) where he claims that he is āpunkās big bad wolfā because heās a fearless truth teller, letting loose such eye-opening insights as āreligion, straight up, is fake as hell.ā
Can you handle the raw, unbridled truth? Do you think the biggest problem with hardcore today is that it doesnāt sound enough like Bush? Are you prepared to have your pathetic, venal nature laid bare for all to see? Would you like to have your mind blown by the black sheep son from a family of lawyers? If you answered yes to these questions, Drug Church is the band for you.
Dear Shabby,
Iām at a point in my life where I have a lot of opportunities to have sex with people (high school). However, Iām conflicted over whether to just have fun and make memories by screwing whoever whenever, or only have sex with people I truly love and care about. I was gonna ask my mom, but sheās Catholic. How should I decide what I want sex to mean to me?
āUncertain in Union CityDear Uncertain,
I think you know that I canāt help you decide what sex should mean to you. But, I can share some of my own experiences, and, hopefully, give you some things to think about. The good news, right off the bat, is that youāve already gotten over one of the biggest obstacles in thinking about your own sexuality: the notion of virginity. Virginity is made up patriarchy stuff and it isnāt helpful to anyone.ĀThe other good news is that the binary youāve established in your letter (Whatever Wherever vs Only True Love) is also made up. I can think of some short flings and one-off hook ups Iāve had that were full of genuine care. Some have developed into friendships that have lasted for literal decades! Iāve also had years-long relationships that were ostensibly of the āTrue Loveā variety that Iām still unpacking the residual trauma from in therapy. And so my advice, in short is, āĀæporque no los dos?ā You canāt decide in advance what the emotional stakes will be of sex you havenāt had yet, because thatās not always something you can know.
The important thing is to try your best to stay present and keep tabs on whether or not youāre into whatās happening. Stop if youāre not. Consent is not a contract. Even if you verbally agreed to something, itās okay to change your mind if youāre not into it. Sex can provide an incredible feeling of embodiment, an unparalleled sense of connection with others, but it can also be a source of pain and the site of trauma, so just like, be gentle with yourself and your future partners.
Thereās just no simple answer to your question, and the fact is, youāll likely be figuring it out well past high school. Thatās because desires change throughout the course of a life. Desire can be exhilarating and it can be scary. Being desired can feel powerful and it can feel absolutely dehumanizing. Your task is only to figure out what you wantĀ right now, not to worry about what it will or wonāt mean later. And sometimes you can only figure that stuff out by doing it. Sometimes that involves another person, but masturbation is a great way to work that stuff out too. Where do you like to be touched? How? Desire is morally neutral. What kind of sex you want or donāt want doesnāt mean anything about who you are, just like any other arbitrary preference.
This is a good time to think about what you mean when you say sex, which you donāt really specify. Are you talking strictly about penetrative intercourse? If so, I would encourage you to broaden your definition. Whether your desire feels queer or not, thereās a lot to be learned from queer sex, both in terms of acknowledging desires that have been historically frowned upon, and also in terms of opening up the field for what sex can mean. Iām not sure if kids today still talk about the old baseball analogy (first base is kissing, home plate is p in v), but approaching sex with that kind of dogma, or an expectation that it can only āprogressā in a specific linear fashion, forecloses on a lot of possibilities, a lot of opportunities for fun and pleasure, and creates a sense of momentum for both partners that can be extremely limiting and lead to some pretty uncomfortable outcomes.
This is why my advice is also to over-communicate. Talk about what your feelings and intentions are. This will be awkward at first, but will maybe avoid some instances of having your feelings hurt, or worse yet of hurtingĀ someone elseāsĀ feelings. But truth is, once you start having sex you are beginning an inevitable journey towards both having your feelings hurt and hurting the feelings of others, and itās totally worth it. Good luck.
xo, ShabbyIf youād like to submit a question to ASK A SHMUCK, please fill out this form, send an email to colin.hagendorf@gmail.com with the subject āADVICE HARVESTER,ā or simply reply to this very message!
LIFE HARV 20: PRISON ABOLITION
I got a text from my old friend Clancy the other day that said, āWhere do I start with abolitionist literature?ā I was honored to be seen as a resource, but it forced me to admit that though I have a committed abolitionist viewpoint, I havenāt done much reading on the subject. My belief that police and prisons cannot be fixed or reformed but must be abolished evolved slowly and organically. First introduced to the notion through punk rock provocation, my position grew from my engagement with anarchist and anti-capitalist movements and was sharpened through involvement in feminist organizing around sexual assault, which led me directly to the rich intellectual tradition of the many Black feminist scholars of the contemporary abolition movement.Ā
I believe that United States history, part of the global history of settler colonialism and racial capitalism, is a history of violenceāthe ongoing genocide of the Indigenous people of this continent, the Atlantic slave trade and its legacy, the murderous quelling of the labor movements of the 1800s, our perpetual pursuit of imperialist dominance around the globe. There are too many instances to list. I believe that our culture and economy were built and are maintained through the blood and labor of enslaved Black populations and their descendants and the colonization of lands outside US borders. I believe that despite countless attempts to reform our racist society, Black communities in the US have been repeatedly denied the opportunities granted to others in this country, that this denial of rights has not been a flaw that just needs to be ironed out, but is fundamental to how our society is organized. Through systemic injustices (redlining, school defunding, predatory military recruiting, the rollback of social welfare programs, and on and on), many Black people and communities have been deliberately kept as a racialized underclass on whose backs much of this system operates. I believe that this system harms everyone but the wealthiest. It is necessary for all of us, if we want lives for ourselves and our loved ones, to fight the criminalization of Blackness in this country. Police and prisons maintain this order through violence. We cannot change anything without completely dismantling these institutions and building new ones from scratch.Ā
Although my beliefs are strong today, there was a time in my life when these concepts were new to me, when the notion of a world without prisons or police seemed impossible. In this moment, as the abolitionist stance is receiving more mainstream attention than it has at any point in my lifetime, as other people who once considered a world without police or prisons anathema are beginning to rethink their opinions, there may be a utility in tracing that trajectory.
LIFE HARV 15: ADULT PUBERTY PART 1
Before I started my transition, everyone warned me that going on hormones would be rough and that Iād go through a second puberty. But like any truly shitty situation (getting dumped, scabies, etc), accepting the inevitability is nowhere near as horrifying as dealing with it. The early physical effects of hrt were immediate and intense. My skin felt tender, my senses were heightened. For the first week I was convinced I was on the verge of getting a cold. I also found myself more easily irritable than I can recall being maybe ever, and hyper-sensitive. The most minor perceived slight could hurt my feelings for hours. I described it all to Becca and she said, āyouāre not getting a cold, boo, youāre PMSing.āĀ
I started experiencing intense emotional overwhelm followed by complete breakdown/shutdown almost immediately too. It would be fair to call these moments tantrums. They tended to last 30 minutes, occasionally a few hours. It wasnāt until around 3 months on estradiol and spiro that I experienced my first bout of sustained moodiness. It lasted over a week, and while it wasnāt unrelenting, it consistently manifested for almost 10 days.Ā
The hallmarks of chemically-induced adult puberty (which Iāll henceforth refer to as Manās Puberty) are not that different from those of the (mostly) naturally occurring puberty seen in human adolescents (Godās Puberty, subsequently). A pubescent tantrum is largely a juncture of multiple frustrations/confusions. They can be external (you donāt understand me!/why donāt you understand me?), internal (I donāt understand me!/why donāt I understand me?), broad (no one understands me!/whyā¦), etc. When I described the experience to my mom, she said it sounded similar to menopause.
Due to their emotional similarity, the primary differences that can be observed between Manās Puberty & Godās Puberty are largely about awareness/accountability. In my experience during Godās Puberty, at least in my very male adolescence, there was little expectation that I would be reasonable, and I felt very little sense of personal responsibility to those around me. I was a literal child, just figuring out social norms, overwhelmed by horniness. Obviously, I wouldnāt be able to control myself. Make no mistake, my parents made it clear when I behaved out of line, but we didnāt process how my volatility had impacted them. They assumed that they possessed an emotional maturity that I, with my less developed brain, lacked, and so accommodations were made. Now, however, Iām a grown ass woman who has been through years of therapy. My hormones are in flux and my loved ones are understanding that this will sometimes lead to instances of chaotic behavior, but I have a responsibility to them to be conscientious about the ways that it impacts them that I didnāt feel as a teen.
In the end, I guess the only observation Iām really making here is that itās harder to act like a maniac when youāre an emotionally responsible adult. Yet despite forcing me to throw fits and then apologize for them, transitioning has been worth it because I feel more and more like myself every day and because I get a weekly text from a high school best friend that says āare you a hot chick yet?ā
Punk icon andĀ Life HarvĀ lifestyle inspoĀ Layla GibbonĀ has been posting a lot of Blue Ćyster Cult (BĆC) ephemera on Instagram, and having never really fucked with that band, it got me intrigued. Mostly, they have an incredible logo. Plus, Becca had just suggested I put their hit āDonāt Fear the Reaperā onĀ a recent Life Harv Mix Club tape, and that song objectively rules.
Like I do with any phase Iām considering going through, I consulted a few trusted friends. When asked āhow do you feel about BĆC?ā Pint-sized shredderĀ Marissa PaternosterĀ of Screaming Females simply said āI think theyāre fuckin sick.ā Long termĀ MRRĀ shitworker and former teen metalhead Rotten Ron Reddy was like āthey rip. Did you know they went to school with the Dictators?āĀ
I felt ready to take the leap, so I asked Queens-born cool guy and my most trusted musical resource, Cory Feierman atĀ Academy Records, āwhere do I start?ā āJust go in order,ā he told me. āThe first record is perfect. The key to digging them is to get into their mindset. Theyāre five idiots from Long Island with names like Buck Dharma. They call their instruments shit like āstun guitar.ā They scared parents before KISS. Theyāre funny, heavy, but not afraid to get a lil jazzy.ā He had me at āfive idiots from Long Island.ā
For a long weekend, the first three BĆC albums were all I listened to. That Sunday, I was playing the self titled record for the 16th time while Becca was in the kitchen. When it ended, I figured Iād put on something different before she asked me to stop. I had just selected Mope GroovesĀ JOYfor a change of pace when she shouted āI think I just accidentally made beef stew.ā A startling exclamation from my vegan girlfriend. Turned out sheād been making lentils with the broth from a homemade seitan and sheād used too much broth. She threw in some carrots and potatoes, worked a little culinary magic, and voila, beef stew. āIāll put on some beef stew music,ā I called back.Ā
āWhat the fuck is that?ā
āYou know, music that you would eat beef stew to. This record I was about to put on just isnāt right for the meal.ā I was in a bind. What felt right was BĆC and that was a no-go. I wracked my brain and finally settled on the self-titled first record by Welsh power trio Budgie, an album I was introduced to 15 years ago by the painterĀ Eleanor Swordy.Ā
As the descending riff ofĀ āGutsāĀ blasted into our home, Becca looked perplexed. āItĀ isĀ beef stew music, but whatĀ makesĀ it beef stew music?ā Truth be told, I didnāt know, it was just a feeling. In a moment of inspiration, I pulled upĀ a picture of Budgieon my phone. The band are sitting on a roof ledge with what I imagine to be a council flat in the background. Drummer Pete Boot (what a name!) is clad in tight denim, staring into the distance slack jawed, his face framed by a mop of unruly hair. Guitarist Tony Bourge is in the center, looking straight ahead, shirt unbuttoned halfway down, a mischievous half-smile beneath his Fu Manchu mustache. Bassist Burke Shelley has an arm draped over Bourgeās shoulder. Heās hunched over, squinting through his large-framed spectacles, hair nipple-length, wearing some kind of tunic. Theyāre not an outrageously ugly bunch, all told, but the picture isnāt flattering. The overall impression it leaves about its subjects is that theyāre unintelligent. They look dumb. As Becca looked at the picture I asked, āI mean, what do you think these guys eat?ā
BĆ«Ć«f Stew was born.
Throughout our meal and in the days and weeks that followed, we tried to come up withĀ a concrete explanation of BĆ«Ć«f Stew. The two concise definitions Iāve been throwing around are āheavy rock that sticks to your gut,ā and āproto-metal by white idiots.ā The real essence of BĆ«Ć«f Stew is somewhere in between.Ā
In establishing the confines of the genre, it was easier, at first, to categorize what BĆ«Ć«f StewĀ isnāt. We had to map the borders, so to speak. My exploration led me astray many times.Ā Blue Cheer, for instance. Theyāre white, theyāre dumb, theyāre LOUD. But thereās too much fuzz, and theyāre too bluesy for a true Stew sound.Ā Motorhead, too fast.Ā Slade, too glam.Ā AC/DC, too pub rock. Becca made this assessment, āAC/DC is all in the throat. BĆ«Ć«f Stew is down lower than that. BĆ«Ć«f Stew is in the hips,ā and she began to gyrate while leering at me. A vulgar display, but she was right.Ā Dust, despite being the first band of rockās most lovable dum-dum Marky Ramone, strive for a sense of low-brow sophistication in their arrangements and lyrics that disqualifies them from Stew categorization. Perhaps theyāre more of a BĆ«Ć«f Bourguignon.
The first real lead (after Budgie of course) came with Dustās outer borough contemporaries,Ā Sir Lord Baltimore. They claim to be the first band referred to as āheavy metalā in print, though that distinction actually belongs toĀ Humble Pie, whoās British approximation of a Dixie shuffle I might characterize as Hamburger Helper. Sir Lord Baltimoreās riff-heavy rock presaged stoner metal bands like Sleep, and for that we all owe them. Their first LPĀ Kingdom ComeĀ is a ripper through and through, not even slowed down by the tinkling zither on Ren Faire balladĀ āLake Isle of Innesfree.ā
From there, I immersed myself in early hard rock and proto-metal, whittling away bands that promised me Stew but left my ladle dry (Grand Funk Railroad,Ā Primevil), and finding more whoās Stew was thick and filling (Leaf Hound,Ā Ancient Grease,Ā Luciferās Friend). One afternoon Becca burst into my office. āDo you thinkĀ āPurple HazeāĀ was the first BĆ«Ć«f Stew song?!ā As soon as we hit play, I knew she was onto something. The history of rock music consists, almost entirely, of white co-optation of black innovation. Why would BĆ«Ć«f Stew be any different?
Soon I began compiling tracks forĀ this monthās Mix Club tapeĀ (which you can stream for free, along with all past mixes atĀ patreon.com/lifeharvester) when I hit a wall. I had 53 minutes of Stew for a 60 minute cassette and had seemingly exhausted all my resources. In my moment of need, I turned toĀ Perry Shall, accomplished illustrator and front-man for Philadelphian BĆ«Ć«f Stew-revivalistsĀ Hound. Perry was quick to pick up what I was putting down, and immediately suggested BloodrockāsĀ āMelvin Laid An Egg,āĀ a seven minute hard rock meditation on life in the side show, described byĀ blogger Casey Chambers of Wichita, KS, seemingly the only person on the internet who has written about this song, as āmindless heavy metal poundage begging to be cranked.ā
Perry also suggested āPhiladelphia BĆ«Ć«f Stew royalty,ā BANG!, whoās Stewy debut recordĀ Mother / Bow to the KingĀ might as well have been recorded in a crock pot. They didnāt make the tape because I mistakenly listened to their next album, which isĀ likeĀ Stew, butĀ not quiteĀ Stew. āI might call that BĆ«Ć«f Stroganoff,ā Perry said.
In the end, we were able to identify three dominant lyrical themes of the genreāWomen Are Evil And I Am Mesmerized (Sir Lord Baltimore āHell Hound,āYesterdayās Children āEvil Woman,āAncient Grease āWomen and Children Firstā), Hey Check It Out I Do Drugs (Black Sabbath āFaeries Wear Boots,āThe Jimi Hendrix Experience āPurple Haze,āLeaf Hound āGrowers of Mushroomā), and People Like Me Have Been Victimized By Society (Luciferās Friend āEverybodyās Clown,āGranicus āBad Talkā).Ā
The latter subject is most aptly summed up by Budgieās unfortunately namedĀ āRape of the Locks,āĀ a song which compares the band membersā parents wanting to cut their hair to a violent sexual assault. Coarse analogy aside, the song rips. It opens with two ringing chords and 30 seconds of chaotic noodling before settling into a steady gallop. The two chords, itās worth noting, are identical to the beginning ofĀ āSonic Reducer.āCould the Budgie/Dead Boys connection be part of a heretofore unknown Stew to Punk pipeline?Ā
āLocksā also features what Becca and I have come to think of as the apex of BĆ«Ć«f Stew lyricism when Burke Shelley wails, āI grow my mind inside my head. I grow my hair to keep it fed.ā Faux-intellectual but ultimately meaningless drivel, in service of nothing but looking cool and rocking hard. And who doesnāt want that? In the unrelentingly horrific moment in which we live, during which liking anything fun has to be justified as relevant, why not lose yourself for a few minutes in something totally dumb, something thatās only reason for being is the fact of its own existence? I donāt want to live in a BĆ«Ć«f Stew world, but I think we all could use a BĆ«Ć«f Stew dinner.