Rancid
I went to see the band Rancid last night and had a good time, although not nearly as much fun as most of the rabid fans there.
It was heartwarming to see a group that means so much to so many people; I appreciated the showmanship of Tim and Lars, and the musicianship and songwriting skills of all four members; and it particularly warmed my heart when they did the one song I was most familiar with, the old Operation Ivy Tune, “Unity,” but I felt a more like an anthropologist than a real member of the tribe.
That’s on me, of course, not the band, but it make me think how much a person’s affection for a group depends on the context. Had I spent hours in my room with Rancid cranked up so that I, too, could sing along with every song they played, I would have been right there in the mosh pit with my fellow fans; as it was, having never even owned Rancid album, and having always—unreflectively, and with a bias that comes from I know not where—sort of believed that they were the sell-out version of OpIvy—I was pretty much on the periphery, emotionally as well as physically.
It seemed to me that, for the true fans, Rancid is way more than a band; they’re like a symbol of a scene, a state of mind, a commitment to something—even if that’s only to being a fan of Rancid. I appreciate that, even if I’m outside of it.
I got to wondering whether any musical group plays that same role in my own current consciousness; as a teenager in the early 1970s, King Crimson certainly did, and maybe Devo for a spell a few years later.
Today, though, I can’t think of any band around which any scene I am (or aspire to be) a part of is organized.
I guess cycling does that for me these days.
It was heartwarming to see a group that means so much to so many people; I appreciated the showmanship of Tim and Lars, and the musicianship and songwriting skills of all four members; and it particularly warmed my heart when they did the one song I was most familiar with, the old Operation Ivy Tune, “Unity,” but I felt a more like an anthropologist than a real member of the tribe.
That’s on me, of course, not the band, but it make me think how much a person’s affection for a group depends on the context. Had I spent hours in my room with Rancid cranked up so that I, too, could sing along with every song they played, I would have been right there in the mosh pit with my fellow fans; as it was, having never even owned Rancid album, and having always—unreflectively, and with a bias that comes from I know not where—sort of believed that they were the sell-out version of OpIvy—I was pretty much on the periphery, emotionally as well as physically.
It seemed to me that, for the true fans, Rancid is way more than a band; they’re like a symbol of a scene, a state of mind, a commitment to something—even if that’s only to being a fan of Rancid. I appreciate that, even if I’m outside of it.
I got to wondering whether any musical group plays that same role in my own current consciousness; as a teenager in the early 1970s, King Crimson certainly did, and maybe Devo for a spell a few years later.
Today, though, I can’t think of any band around which any scene I am (or aspire to be) a part of is organized.
I guess cycling does that for me these days.
posted by Professor Dave at 2:45 PM
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