N.Y.H.C.
dir. Frank Pavich
This is the legendary 1995 documentary of the New York hardcore scene featuring Freddy Madball, Roger Miret from AF (interviewed in the hospital after breaking his back, spoiler alert, PS), Lord Ezec, No Redeeming Social Value, a bunch of the dudes from 108 and District 9, and a little too much Rick from 25 ta Life at the live-in comic book store he evidently called an apartment. Until now it's been mostly consigned to shitty, third-generation VHS copies—I think the last time it was screened for the public was at some festival seven or eight years ago. Anyways, talk about your fucking timecapsule. Even if you don't give a single shit about any of these bands, you can still marvel at an era when a singer in a newsies cap and triple-X Kentucky Wildcats jersey was taken seriously, when a ginormous Puerto Rican dude singing while wearing an empty Jansport backpack was taken seriously, and when all the yo-ness that would eventually saturate the scene was in its earliest stages and somehow still kind of cool-seeming.Other highlights include the bassist from 108 doing his interview in full Krishna facepaint, one of the dudes from District 9 trying to explain very carefully what he does for a living and getting cut off by the other guy yelling "Nigga, you a garbage man!" and the other-other dude from District 9 looking exactly like a Klingon with a smooth forehead—I don't think I made out a single word he said over the sound of my own cackling. Not that this film should be considered fodder for snooty, post-collegiate toffs with no appreciation of hardcore to laugh at a bunch of amazingly sincere if maybe not especially well-spoken guys describing their life's single passion. I know what I said before about single shits and all, but I'm taking that back. If you can't take the live footage for the incredible document of a crucial moment in New York musical and social history that it is without chuckling over the subtitles they put in for Rick ta Life's mushmouth, you're out. Seriously, fuck off back to the Hills.That said, what's arguably better than the original film are all the follow-up interviews the director did with its major players over the last three years. That's where you get show-stoppers like No Redeeming Social Value shitting on every other band in the scene from the black guy's backyard tiki bar, John Joseph of the Cro-Mags falling in and out of a thick southern accent, and Ezec rambling for nearly 20 minutes about his dog then calling his mom, all the while high out of his fucking mind. I was watching this for the first time with some buds the other night, and right as Ezec got off the phone with his mom, two of my pals said the same thing in sync, "Ha, now he's going to be like 'Who's got the coke?'" Two seconds later, Ezec looked straight at us through the camera and said "Who's got the coke?"
LEROY GUMPTIONMORE: I WANT MY DVDS - HC TUESDAY PART II
dir. Frank Pavich
This is the legendary 1995 documentary of the New York hardcore scene featuring Freddy Madball, Roger Miret from AF (interviewed in the hospital after breaking his back, spoiler alert, PS), Lord Ezec, No Redeeming Social Value, a bunch of the dudes from 108 and District 9, and a little too much Rick from 25 ta Life at the live-in comic book store he evidently called an apartment. Until now it's been mostly consigned to shitty, third-generation VHS copies—I think the last time it was screened for the public was at some festival seven or eight years ago. Anyways, talk about your fucking timecapsule. Even if you don't give a single shit about any of these bands, you can still marvel at an era when a singer in a newsies cap and triple-X Kentucky Wildcats jersey was taken seriously, when a ginormous Puerto Rican dude singing while wearing an empty Jansport backpack was taken seriously, and when all the yo-ness that would eventually saturate the scene was in its earliest stages and somehow still kind of cool-seeming.Other highlights include the bassist from 108 doing his interview in full Krishna facepaint, one of the dudes from District 9 trying to explain very carefully what he does for a living and getting cut off by the other guy yelling "Nigga, you a garbage man!" and the other-other dude from District 9 looking exactly like a Klingon with a smooth forehead—I don't think I made out a single word he said over the sound of my own cackling. Not that this film should be considered fodder for snooty, post-collegiate toffs with no appreciation of hardcore to laugh at a bunch of amazingly sincere if maybe not especially well-spoken guys describing their life's single passion. I know what I said before about single shits and all, but I'm taking that back. If you can't take the live footage for the incredible document of a crucial moment in New York musical and social history that it is without chuckling over the subtitles they put in for Rick ta Life's mushmouth, you're out. Seriously, fuck off back to the Hills.That said, what's arguably better than the original film are all the follow-up interviews the director did with its major players over the last three years. That's where you get show-stoppers like No Redeeming Social Value shitting on every other band in the scene from the black guy's backyard tiki bar, John Joseph of the Cro-Mags falling in and out of a thick southern accent, and Ezec rambling for nearly 20 minutes about his dog then calling his mom, all the while high out of his fucking mind. I was watching this for the first time with some buds the other night, and right as Ezec got off the phone with his mom, two of my pals said the same thing in sync, "Ha, now he's going to be like 'Who's got the coke?'" Two seconds later, Ezec looked straight at us through the camera and said "Who's got the coke?"
LEROY GUMPTIONMORE: I WANT MY DVDS - HC TUESDAY PART II