CHIRP: Chicago Independent Radio Project

Posted by Ange C. on July 29, 2008 around 11am

Finally able to steal away time from the hullabaloo of life, I was able to chill out for the evening and closing portions of Pitchfork with the CHIRP family. Before I left for Pitchfork, I saw a checkered tie I found lying in my room. It had been while since I had sported a tie, so I decided to give it a go for old time’s sake. While taking down tables, a fellow CHIRPie commented on how they liked my tie. I laughed and replied: “Haha, I got this tie during my wanna-be punk-ska days.” Commence dream-like past memory sequence!

I went to an all girls suburban Catholic high school, so the means of expressing yourself through dress was pretty limited, thanks to that awesomely restrictive dress code. There was a girl named Lauren who I remember was able to pull off a ‘punk meets school girl’ look without getting in trouble with the dean, and, needless to say, she got lots of stares when she chopped off her hair to sport a short, spunky, mosh approved bob. She got me to listen to a local ska band she followed called AKA, which was my first taste of what ska music was. We rounded up the gang and revved up our friend’s mom’s clunker of a van (think of the clunker in Little Miss Sunshine), and drove out to Mojoe’s in Orland Park. Bless that woman’s heart; it’s quite a tall order to deal with high school punk kids jumping around in the back seat, with their spiked bracelets and shoes scratching the upholstery. However, when I had my first mosh pit experience at Mojoe’s with the Cancer Merchants playing “Punk Rock Rules,” let’s just say I’d rather have those spikes scratch the upholstery than my face…

Pushing, shoving, a punch or kick here and there in the air (and maybe a poor soul’s face)… is this what the whole high school punk/ska scene was all about? Did I really need to rip up my jeans, have razor sharp jewelry to fit in, listen to the most obscure bands and measure each other’s punkness? So in this temporary period of high school insecurity, I revamped my wardrobe and started sporting studded bracelets and necklaces, and somewhere along the line, I bought that checkered tie.

My quick ascent to looking punk ended with an equally, if not faster, descent out of the punk look. I found out the hard way that I was allergic to stainless steel and nickel, which is such a staple in all those studded whatevers. I got sick and was covered with rashes. Then a light bulb flickered in my little head, and it dawned upon me that the music was the important part, and who the hell cares what you wear; you can still be naked and be considered a punk at heart.

Don’t show up to your next punk show naked; the moshers might just have a field day… Watch out for those spikes.