Welcome to the Suburban Jungle. (We've got fun and games...somewhere.)
I live in a small town in Pennsylvania. I am three hours from Philadelphia. I am three hours from Pittsburgh. I am two hours from where I went to college, and even though that was nestled in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch Country (where the Amish live), I was still closer to a lot more things to do. I was especially a lot closer to more shows. I am here, in the home of Little League Baseball, in a town that has a vast history. Long, long ago, this town was filled with more millionaires per capita than anywhere in the country, because they had all gotten rich off of a lumbering boom at the time. There are sites that were used on the Underground Railroad. There are more churches than I've seen in any other small town...ever.
But there are no punks.
I take that back. There are very few punks who are identifiable as such. However, there are few to no punk, emo and ska shows here. Unless you go to one of the two colleges in town, people are not familiar with independent rock on the radio. Some of the teenagers here think punk is only Good Charlotte or New Found Glory. We have one indie record store, but they actually stock a lot of punk and indie music. It's corraled in its own corner of the store, but now and then I'll brush elbows with a goth kid perusing the Misfits' entire catalog.
I feel a little like Paula Cole, but I really have to ask, "where have all the punk kids gone?" Signs pop up here and there, like the kids discussing punk by the spiked bracelets in Hot Topic at the mall, kids at the coffee shops or late night at Denny's with dyed hair or "emo" glasses or straight edge t-shirts. I live in a small town. The punk kids are not easily spotted.
The truth is, when you're like me, out of college and heading out into that great, scary, occasionally right-wingy place known as "the real world" or even "the workforce," you can't always look as punk rock as you want to, unless you're willing to spend your life as a cashier or something similar.
This column is about that. This column is about what makes a person punk, and how to hold onto that when there's not a huge scene to support you. This is about who is punk and who is not, about where the punks in the small towns are hiding, and about hanging out with punk and indie kids. What makes us tick? Who the hell do we think we are wasting our money on basement shows, club shows, the Warped tour, tattoos?
This column is going to be about living your life as a punk. Or a ska kid. Or an indie/emo kid. This is a column that will be about how we get by, and I hope that you love it as much as I love the concept of it. Keep your eyes peeled, because this space is going to get a lot more interesting in the coming days. If you have any story ideas for me about your small-town or suburban punk rock life, have questions or comments, or if you think I'm stupid for trying to describe something like this, send me an email.
See you all back here next time, as we try to live underground while we are wandering just slightly above.
