Chad. 21. New Bedford, Massachusetts. I want to live free. No masters. No gods. Stay young till I die. (Somehow that's odd).

LAST.FM
unbornwhiskey:

Sound of the City: Live: Converge and Rorschach Turn (Le) Poisson Rouge into a Sweaty Basement

Hardcore shows transpire at a singular intensity, pitched upward and out. Even between songs, people are being swept up in something like quicksilver. Skin leaps. Nothing is neutral. On Saturday, when the rain and heat had transformed doors and people into uncomfortable expansions of themselves, this was even more urgent. Converge capitalized on this; they seemed to always be moving, tremulous, unsettled. Their songs, all shifting parts, melted finely into each other; I swore that I heard “Axe to Fall” twice. The effect is haunting. Also, in the extremities of hardcore shows, a 45-minute set can seem a small lifetime. Time is negotiated. In the relentlessness of “The Broken Vow,” a small two minutes of the set, I felt as if I’d traveled widely without having moved at all. The band seemed to play in a private dome where time was vacuumed out.

In which I try to identify transcendent qualities particular to hardcore shows and maybe witnessing Shostakovich 10.
thedevilistakingnames:

The punkest Gremlin.
plague-soundscapes:

Unless you were at Le Poisson Rouge in NYC tonight, its safe to say my night was better than yours.
mattxpike:

My Jane Doe , thanks @jbannon #janedoeproject #friendship #deathwish 
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