No Age, Weirdo Rippers

Maybe it's that i've been listening to joy division, but No Age sounds like, well, joy division. or at least they want to. the freshness of exploration landed joy division in a place they didn't realize they were in, whereas the kids that are No Age stand firmly in this information age, knowing that no matter how far they escape they're still here. They still use the internet. They have mp3s. I can't help but hear someone else in them, even if they won't admit it. They're a replica of an 80s post punk band. A fine replica.

Well. Okay. They don't sound like joy division, really. I made most of that first paragraph up. But the idea's the same. Rock died somewhere at the turn of the century. Bands like No Age do what they can to revive it, but it's just a time cycle. They sprout, they grow, and then they die, not before pollinating the ground for others to do the same. And the same they become, growing, dying, finding that the counterculture is no longer interested in being anti. instead, it is more inter, obstinately defending the power of we, against all powers and politics and religions. So these rock bands that eventually die spring forth new ones that die, and so on and so forth. There's no forward movement, just a circle. Rock is a ferris wheel, frightening for the little ones and nostalgic for everyone else. We enjoy it as much as we can, and it reminds us that it's okay to ask, to ourselves or to the Man, who the f cares? I want to go on this ferris wheel, no matter how clearly I've overgrown it. Well. As great as that self-freedom is, we have families. We have friends. We have a world to which we are accountable, people, nations, animals and plants. We're not ticking time bombs set to explode at any moment, fragile, dangerous. Not caring isn't cool anymore. It's appreciated as much as fundamental religion. You're free to not care, but don't start imposing that view on me, or anyone else. Keep your rock to yourself.

Maybe there's still room to not care. There's still a pocket of air that's safe to abuse. A messed up family or something. Living off food stamps and getting beat up by gang members. I don't know what it is. Immediate problems need to be more glaring and important than, say, problems in the Darfur or the US Farm Bill. And that's not hard to achieve, since the injustices closer in physical and, more importantly, emotional proximity to us appear bigger than they really are. So look at that kid in the suburbs who happens to hate life. He hates his parents, his school and himself. The Darfur? He hates that too. Burma? He is the monk, beaten by some societal force that tells him he sucks. The state of the world doesn't urge him to get over himself, but instead reaffirms his need to screw it all. He picks up a guitar. He turns up his amp. He finds refuge in the noise, a kind of demon that whispers in his ear, through the distortion and noise, that nothing matters. So he makes a song that says, lyrically and musically, nothing matters. And it rings true to a generation. The problem is, that generation has long gone. We're not so angry anymore.

Or maybe it's not anger, just a sort of self-obsession. America's not short on that. In fact, nobody is. Some cultures may appear more community centered, but I think there are selfish bastards everywhere. I get the point though, that America is especially self-obsessed. Since we have the means, we go to amazing lengths to preserve ourselves. It rings at least a little bit true for rich people everywhere, but the 21st century America is a hotbed for such people. The reaction against such obsession is just more of the same. It's the idiot protesters who trashed all the Starbucks cafes in Seattle. It's the World Social Forum. It's No Age. It's a big F you to any teenager who hangs out at shopping malls, plays on the football team or sips five dollar mochaccinos. It doesn't care about others' feelings, or the fact that they're no better for seeing the phoniness and not doing anything about it other than complaining. It doesn't care about the Darfur. They don't call themselves monks.

So what's No Age's tragedy? If I could hear an intelligible lyric I'd be able to say. But since I can't, I'll just have to say, suburban teenage angst, drug use, and no babes.

The spirit of angst that makes such music, while debatably dead, does indeed make awesome music. So hey. No Age rocks. And they don't overstep their artistry; each song is short and to the point. They still wail a big f you to the Man, even if that's no longer our anthem. Should they mature, they'd lose whatever freshness they have. If they can become more themselves, more focused, more ridiculous, then maybe they'll be great. It might not be a healthy path into themselves, but it will be enjoyable for listeners until the next cool band sprouts from underneath them. But here in the year 2007, with Sufjan selling out baroque orchestra shows in NYC, maybe we won't even care. Talk about underground.