In the spring of 1988, just before I started dating my future wife, I was in the midst of the most rebellious phase of my life. I was very much into the hardcore punk scene. Nothing came close to the emotion one experienced being with lots of people crammed into a small space, listening to the thunderous sounds of a NYHC band, moshing around in a circle and releasing all pent-up frustrations in a furious explosion of energy. I can remember all the times having to go down to the city just to find hardcore albums and see shows that were otherwise unavailable up here - short of the venues that played in Middletown, NY at a makeshift music hall called "The Grunge Club." For a while, I used to hang out with a group called Affirmative Action who practiced and played there with other local bands before Mark Johnson began organizing headline events. Before that, we used to just call the place "The Warehouse", because thats what it was; a old warehouse with it's entrance being down an alleyway and up a fire escape - a freaking block away from the police station! The place was totally illegit for breaking fire code and in order to skirt the liqueur laws for the kegs, they sold empty cups for $5 a piece. It became a major hangout as more and more local underground bands formed and needed a decent place to jam-out.
Up here in Orange County, there were only a handful of girls who were into the scene. From what I found this far out of NYC, hardcore punk was mostly a guy thing. However, there was one girl who broke the mold. Christine O'Dwyer was a free spirit if I had ever known one. No one could ever hope to put her in a box and she was definitely no follower of passing fashionable trends. She was what you might consider a little hard around the edges, but she was still very much a beautiful girl... and I had the privilege of escorting her to the 1988 Monroe-Woodbury Senior Prom! In honor of such an occasion, I decked out in black tux, combat boots, Gunnery Sergeant chevron lapel pins and a safety pin w/ razor blade earing. Not to brag, but we looked damned good together that night.
It wouldn't be much of a stretch for me to say that we stood out a bit. Not like I gave a shit or anything. The food sucked and the music was DEFINITELY not to my taste, but we had a good time none-the-less. BTW, I was not the only guy there wearing combat boots that evening. Another friend of ours named Max wore his as well. I can't remember if Chris wore her Doc Martens or not. I think she did. Alzheimer's disease must be setting in. Maybe she'll remind me if she ever decides to take the time and read this post. With two other friends, we left the prom and crashed in a hotel room for the night. The next day the four of us took off down to Seaside Heights, NJ to hang out for the rest of the weekend.
After Chris graduated, she took off to California and I only saw her once more after that when she came back to visit in the early '90s. I missed her very much. We had lots of fun hanging out. I was happy to have recently found her on Facebook. She's back living in Monroe now and I hope that someday soon we can get together and bullshit over old times and a couple of cold beers.
Since way back when I started my jukebox, I've been meaning to get around to doing something and this occasion has given me an excuse for doing so. I dug out a shit-load of my old albums and tapes from storage and digitized some of my favorite hardcore tracks for your listening enjoyment.
Keep in mind that I listened to this crap for years... and still do on occasion when the attitude is ripe ;)
Listening to that old stuff brings back lots of memories. For nostalgic effect, I even pulled out my old leather jacket, suspenders and combat boots - the same ones I wore on the night of that prom - just to contemplate how it was that I survived those times. Uh-oh, the jacket don't fit, I must've gained a few pounds... LMFAO!!! The boots fit but they're way too stiff for stompage.
Anyway, that's a little glimpse into my wild past. It's amazing how things change in 20 years. Back then, I didn't think I'd make it to 35 and here I am working on the big five-oh. ...holy crap!
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