2 Gyrlz Quarterly review of Queercore Blitz

Review: Queercore Blitz featuring Triple Crème, Dead Betties, Jack Queen, and Dominatrix, December 3rd at the Meow Meow, Portland, Oregon.

The Queercore Blitz tour, above and beyond anything else they might accomplish, stands as a testament to the old adage “the personal is political.” They’re here, they’re queer, they’re punk, get used to it. The current queercore renaissance is the second go-round for the genre, which found its roots in acts as diverse as Heatmiser and Pansy Division. The big difference with this incarnation is the lack of identity politics, and politics in general, in the lyrics. Were it not for the band’s butch and femme aesthetics, no one would peg them as queer. The audience at the Meow Meow didn’t get songs about Measure 36 or odes to Gavin Newsom. Instead, they got a typical punk show: fun and energetic, with songs about alienation, lost love, and parents who just don’t understand.

The crowd at the Meow Meow was, for the most part, young, shiny, and energetic. Their outfits were carefully crafted, and they seemed happy and well adjusted. No fights broke out, and the dancers took pains to assure the tiny pit was a safe space. The audience lives in a world of “Please Don’t Kill the Freshman,” “Queer Eye,” and “Will and Grace.” Gay and lesbian teens in Portland have their own youth center and community resources. While the politics surrounding gay marriage must distress them, many queer teens I know aren’t terribly concerned about marriage to begin with. They operate on the assumption that by the time they’re old enough to consider it, the culture will have shifted in their favor.

Perhaps I’m overanalyzing what was, in retrospect, a simple punk rock show. New York’s Triple Crème played fast, sloppy girl punk, a la L7 or Babes in Toyland. They even threw in an Ozzy riff. The Dead Betties played what I can only describe as screamo, while Jack Queen and Dominatrix played straight ahead, eighties-influenced punk. Had the show not been billed as “queercore,” I would have been just another all-ages punk gig. But the lack of politics at the show was, to me, shocking. There were no pink triangles. No baskets of condoms, or information about AIDS. The show was energetic, and the kids seemed to have a great time. But I fear that, by depoliticizing the punk, we’re doing them a disservice. The fact is, the wider world is still a terribly unfriendly place for GLBTQ youth. I’ve read enough diatribes from the red states to believe that the vaunted “culture wars” could go either way.

The kids need to go out and have fun. But they can’t get too comfortable. Queer youth aren’t ready to hang up the politics quite yet.