Dedicated to the memory of Emily Aideen
Part I: Fat, Sweaty And Mean
One can experience loneliness in two ways: by feeling lonely in the world or by feeling the loneliness of the world.”
About six years ago—and wow, the world is a much different place now—I was a staff writer for HEATHEN HARVEST, and with very little ego, I can say I was one of the more reliable ones they had available. A few factors came together for me, but I was lucky enough to be granted the opportunity to write an editorial piece—a very personal pet-piece—dealing with my personal search for, and experience with, loving Noise, making Noise, watching Noise, but also being a queer; basically, feeling adrift between two worlds and wondering if others felt similarly.
At the time, this little project of mine was met fairly enthusiastically by a lot of different people—fans, artists; established names and up-and-coming converts—which, in retrospect, seemed like maybe more than a little self-congratulatory back-patting, and some sheepish chance to feel the light brush of fame against our cheeks. Look, I cast no aspersions. I find the whole experience of seeing my friends’ names and bands lauded by strangers supremely cool. A handful of you were in Michael Tau’s Extreme Music book, and I got a rush every time I saw someone I knew quoted or referenced. I want stuff I like to get the recognition I think it deserves, but more than that, I want people I believe in, people I call friends, chosen family, #NoiseFam… I wanna see them succeed. I want all our dreams to come true. We only have one shot at this, so having a fun go at life seems like a pretty fair ask. Anyway, rambling digression aside…
On a personal level, I had finally broken into the “fest circuit,” which for the Noise scene isn’t quite on the same level as say, Maryland DeathFest or Lollapalooza if you need some sort of cross-cultural marker. Having said that, whether I was at Kansas Noise Fest III (2017) or Midwest Harsh Fest 4 (2018) or Tulsa Noise Fest 2 (2019), there are always invigorating surprises, bucket list acts, and more than enough friends both new and old to catch up with and/or meet in person. We joke that fests are more family reunion than extravagant concert—arguably most of the audience is other noise musicians, if not mainly performers—but that’s okay; I think in a sense this also belies a lot of the motivations behind why “we” make noise. We find ourselves shouting into the wilderness in the best manner in which we know how, looking for our own weird tribe. These days, that’s a lot easier than it used to be. I know, I sound like an old man yelling at a cloud when I say that, but kid, please, trust me—you don’t know how good you have it. Even in the MySpace era, things were so much more muddled and difficult to track down than they are these days. The double-edged sword of the Social Media/post-Internet era is that finding this shit is way easier but, you have to wade through way more subpar garbage and half-earnest schlock to find what’s really great. Plus, the more niche your interest, the farther away your friends will probably live (depending on your starting point).
On the outside, I guess it would seem odd for a project like STRAIGHT PANIC to be sharing motel rooms with RAPE-X and ROSEMARY MALIGN, but you know, that’s kind of the point. Minus the rare “bad guy,” most of us are artists in an arguably niche genre/artistic philosophy/whatever. Most genres are the same, I think, statistically. For every Count Grishnackh, there are probably at least five Corpse Grinder characters. Which is where I found myself straddling the line between attempting to “queer the pitch,” make a statement, do the BIG, GRAND THING, but also still, y’know, kind of being just another dude in all black, swilling beer, pumping my fist, and generally being a bro among bros.
On one hand, I know I have changed the game a little. All of my proof is anecdotal, but without outing anyone or putting people on the spot, more than a few artists and friends have confided in me that STRAIGHT PANIC gave them the confidence to do their own work, be honest about some shit, whatever. That’s amazing. That’s awesome. I think that any artist worth their salt only ever really hopes for that—confirmation of impact. I had young trans audience members thank me for performing in Minneapolis all of eight or nine years ago when the project first started; they were appreciative that I aggressively made a space for them in a scene that they found interesting, but unwelcoming (if only in presentation).
I reached out to friends and contemporaries, and eight out of eleven respondents agreed overwhelmingly. Yes, the presence of “out” Queer projects (still) matters.
Yes. 100% yes. I’ve had younger Queer artists tell me that FAGGOT FRONT was the reason they felt comfortable making noise as a Queer person. I’ve had younger Queer artists come out to me before their friends and family, just because they’ve observed the way I live my life and conduct myself. Closeted younger artists have come to me for Queer advice. To vent about things they don’t feel comfortable telling their parents or friends. This is the privilege and duty of all older Queer people, and especially Queer artists in a small scene. We must be loud and proud and unapologetic. We must support each other. This goes beyond noise. REVEL IN YOUR QUEERNESS! FUCK HETERONORMATIVITY!”
I’m all for it. Is there really anything better than an aggressively gay aesthetic? Also, I dunno, seeing queer artists, whether they were noise or otherwise, made me feel less alone as a sullen teen in semi rural Oregon.”
Yes! Why not?!? Does my out and openness bother other artists or musicians that much? What’s it to ya??? All kidding aside, I love seeing queer representation in all art. This work often validates feelings and thoughts I have in all areas of art and not just noise. I get excited over seeing Queer Noise artists in the same way I do about queer punk artists. It’s just fucking cool to see people like me or similar to me in thought and expression.”
It does matter. We need to be seen. We need to heard. Our lives, our views, our love is important. It is scary to be out, but once you are out, you wonder why you were ever in the closet to begin with. Standing up and saying I am who I am is not only brave but something that should be cheered. It takes nerve, sacrifice, guts, passion to take on what may come your way. Being true to yourself……nothing else compares to that bravery. Our community also needs to come together to support our trans brothers and sisters too. It’s sad that there is still a lack of caring, compassion for the trans community within our own community. I don’t get it. We are all family. ALL OF US. Seeing more queer and trans noise artists out in the noise scene is fantastic. I hope this continues and the support grows.”
Yes it fucking matters if there are out and open queer noise acts. It matters to every queer or closeted person, just as it matters to see us in any form of media and culture. It is important for our survival to see representation, and it is important to our oppressors to see us still thriving and creating no matter what they throw at us.”
I think having out and open acts matter to those that want to be out and open. The way has been paved, floodgates open. It matters.”
Like I said, this isn’t scientific data. These are friends of mine, mostly (not entirely) of Western-European heritage, almost exclusively over 30, all living in America. I did a bad job of sourcing viewpoints, but I also want to show how, try as one might, we all inhabit our own spheres, whether intentionally or not. Plus, y’know, I sent out some questionnaires that didn’t get returned. That’s okay too.
So yes, for the most part, “we” seem to still think that being OUT and VISIBLE as artists matters, if not for the youth and the next generation and those who need that push or reassurance that they can, then for ourselves to feel genuine and honest and authentic. Those are valid reasons, arguably, to pursue a goal.
…but at what cost? Look, I love how visibly queer and trans noise is these days. I even had a “crisis of faith” one might say, where I considered hanging up the STRAIGHT PANIC moniker for good because, “who really needs to hear what one more cisgender White guy has to say (even if he is a proud bottom)?” Sure, the avant-garde/underground/experimental realm always was Queer/friendly—maybe it’s just a shift in my own perspective—but there’s less guesswork these days. Maybe that’s detracting from more important topics (as arguably Identity Politics has turned out to be as a political strategy). Maybe that’s part of the death of nuance. Maybe I helped start something, even unintentionally, that’s begun to eat its own tail. When a queer-under-30 can get a Halloween cover show, with a roster of almost exclusively queer performers, canceled twice at two different venues for being “problematic” … what community are we speaking for and claiming to protect, and from whom? If we can’t even dress up like monsters for Halloween, then what’s the point anymore?
Part II: Failed Ideas In Practice
A l’exemple de Saturne, la révolution dévore ses enfants.”
I’m coming up against a wall and I’m not sure whether it’s age, outlook, upbringing, or some melange of everything that we call the “lived human experience,” but I find myself being simultaneously inspired by the youth, and terrified of them. Maybe that’s the natural order. Maybe I’m too adept at putting myself in the other person’s position. So I did what most anyone does when they can’t seem to locate the path they were on—I talked to people.
Granted, me asking my friends questions doesn’t come anywhere close to being statistically significant or even scientifically sound, but there’s something to be said for at least asking for some outside opinions. What I find is that generally that youth are happy to have found us, and we’re happy to have them, but there is—as usual with basically everything everywhere anymore—a very vocal minority of Internet-weaned whelps who have been raised almost exclusively in niche-micro-Identity echo chambers who have come to think that discomfort equals danger; distaste equals dissent; discourse equals defiance. Add to that, there seems to be a subcourse of “Ideological Purity” tests that are constantly ongoing in some sort of Hegel-cum-Kafka-cum-Nietzsche three-way circle-jerk clusterfuck. NO ONE IS PERFECT ALL THE TIME, AND WE NEED TO STOP EXPECTING THAT OF PEOPLE. Humans are messy things, and people who are often on the edges of the dominant social paradigm tend to be messier still. Just look at how Marsha Johnson and Silvia Rivera were treated by the established “gay rights” movement of their own time. Things have not changed so very much. Lecture me about your proper pronouns, and I’ll introduce you to a self-described “tranny faggot” who does sex work to get money to eat and pay for a room to sleep in. The “Revolutionary Vanguard” is a nice idea, but it lacks nuance. (jfc, again with that word).
See, here’s the thing. Returning back to the now-semi-mythic Halloween gig… One of the issues raised by one individual (who just happened to be in the position of power of being the venue booker), was that Whitehouse had “fascist ties,” or some other such rubbish. I say that’s rubbish because, and I quote:
[… I]n early 1983 I released a power electronics compilation tape I decided to call ‘White Power’ (fuck knows what I was thinking) and plonked a great big swastika on the front cover. I’m sometimes, and obviously not unreasonably, challenged about that tape in particular. What can I say? I want to make clear now that I am not, and have never been a fascist. We’re talking about a particularly stupid and obnoxious schoolboy bedroom compilation tape that sold a handful of copies and has never been licensed for re-released in any form whatsoever. As a middle-aged man I’m mortified by the whole thing and I can only guess at the motives of my much younger self.”
If anyone takes issue with that, and argues that I’m simply defending one of the old guard (who was, give or take, 15 years old at the time), then look up my FIRE ISLAND ALASKA release from 2010, Horns For Maldoror, which features a big, fat swastika made of cocaine on the cover. The album was supposed to be some sort of “indictment against the excesses of youth,” a sort of “youth is wasted on the young” mentality after having read Maldoror for the first time in my life, and honestly “what the fuck was I thinking” is mostly my reaction to that artistic design choice these days, but oh well, what can one do with the past except to learn from the lessons it provided gracefully/graciously. My point in all of this, is that youthful exuberance breeds excessive, explosive gestures which at the time feel sound, well-rounded, thoughtful… but age about as well as a two-liter jug of urine.
Queer kids, you are more than welcome here in the underground. If this space truly feels like home to you, we’ll have you, we’ll encourage you, we’ll book you (when you’re ready) and collab with you and release your work (when it’s ready), but understand what this place is; understand how this space came to be; understand what this space stands for. Most of us make difficult, ugly art as a way of processing the world at large, coping with traumas both personal and societal, trying to make sense of cruelties and injustices of which we have no tangible powers to impart upon. Being on the “right side of history” is well and noble, but intention is 9/10s of the law and a lot of you like to act like cops. Just remember what makes up the paving stones to Hell. In other words—make sure your motivations are legitimate.
Are you good?
Or are you just concerned with being seen as good?
The camps are now open / Loosened definitions set / Everyone’s guilty”
About The Author: Thomas Boettner
Self-exiled ex-Southerner with—until recently—3½ year attention span for most cities. Midwestern at heart, with a taste for the transgressive, experimental, unorthodox, and trash/sleaze. Currently located in Providence, Rhode Island; not that hard to see why H.P. Lovecraft had such a chip on his shoulder (minus the racism, I mean). Niche famous as STRAIGHT PANIC, which is pretty cool in certain circles. Multi-disciplinary artist, mostly self-taught. My dog thinks I’m pretty great. linktr.ee/T.Boettner