whyvern

close [x]

"Soldiers aren't born... they just fucking die."

Ever since my friend died, I think about this song alot. We used to sing it on the porch of this one punk house together all the time.

He was from the Ukraine and we bonded over a shared love of Soviet Punk... something which is apparently pretty rare for Americans to have. I took 8 years of Russian in school and was pretty eager to practice my Russian with him. So we became really good friends over a shared language, shared musical taste and many many cases of Stroh's Beer.

When we found out that Egor Letov died, all the punks drank a beer. No matter how much he ended up sucking in the end of his life he still did a lot for punks everywhere. It's really inspiring to think that someone can travel through the Soviet underground play these songs of resistance and stay punk even after the KGB sends you to a mental institution then it puts our problems as American punks into perspective for sure. Ya it sucks that the cops keep evicting our friends and people get busted for shit all the time, but damn, none of us will ever have to be tortured for being a punk. I guess you could argue that the police brutality that we're all subject to for just living and being freaks might be torture, but it pails in comparison to what the fucking KGB would do to us. People like Egor Letov, the punks of Medillin, Columbia and the punks in Khatmandu, Nepal have always been really inspiring to me. Knowing that we're not the only ones out there helps me stay punk and be proud that I'm a punk. We talked about punk all over the world, and then we started singing. Me and Andrew sang 'Soldatami Nje Rozhdajucza' as loud as we could. I wonder what Egor Letov would have thought of us. A Ukrainian and American punk singing his song, together in the belly of the American Conservative Consumerist Empire that we've all fought so hard against. It was one of those moments in my life that was truely beautiful. Not just the song; the whole setting. Surrounded by friends, Lookout Mountain looming in the background, the city lights of Chattanooga as bright and daunting as ever, and the fucking Moon, the brightest moon that entire Winter.

I think about that whenever I hear this song. It's so loaded. Mostly though, I think about Andrew and then I think about the war that we're all fighting now, the war than Andrew taught me so much about.

The fascists are gaining ground now and....

SOLDIERS AREN'T BORN / THEY JUST FUCKING DIE.

close [x]

The first time I heard this song, I was riding my bike through Worcester, MA trying to get the shitty tour I just went on outta my head and focus on finding my place in a new town and fitting into a new community. I remember when I reached the top of the hill at the College of The Holy Cross and looked out at my new city just sitting there in the hot August air wondering what all this city held for me, what all leaving that other city meant. Friends near and far. Love and hate. My favorite line is still "I feel like I just met you, but it's been so long / you said our love would never die, / well I guess one of us was wrong". I didn't know anything about CRACKROCK at the time. Josh Mayfield had sent me a copy of the Region Rock tape that Iggy Scam put out (3 months after I ordered it by the way) and I needed something to listen to on my bike while I got my bearings to find classes because I was commuting to different schools. This song came on and I was blown away, I had no idea what they were saying with the exception of the one line I could make out and loved, but I loved everything about the song, the energy and depression and bitterness was how I felt in that transition. Moving to Worcester taught me alot about myself and how I handle change and I think it made all this moving back and forth alot easier. This song still means alot to me as does the time I spent in the city and the things I left behind in Huntsville. Sometimes I miss them all but most of the time I'm just looking for the next place once this one wears itself out.