Essays by Matt

THE UNKNOWN

By Matt Damn Kuchna

They call 1991 "the year punk broke." Sure, I guess, if you think it takes co-opting and mass popular acceptance to approximate a "break-through," and if you call Nirvana, Mudhoney, Soundgarden et al. "punk." I don't and I didn't; to me, "punk rock" and its breakthrough/breakout had happened as of its genesis, and if sales and charts and videos, and sold-out tours full of converts in costumes, had eluded it, that was part and parcel of its nature. Everyone isn't a "punk." That's why some things and people are, ya dig?

So those of us with a grasp watched and chuckled, and for a while, it was funny. Nirvana in the New York Times, grunge fashions at the mall; kids who thought this was all so new and revolutionary dying their hair pink and scrubbing up their acne, scowling like a badass in a Pearl Jam t-shirt and combat boots walking down the street with mom; and, of course, the musical companions of our lives, the flames behind the fire in our underground theory, the people we called brethren and inspiration, dragged out into the marketplace to stand there, bewildered or smug, and falling flat on their faces, almost every last one of them.

And then came -- what? 1994? Two words: Green Day. Now, honestly, I'd been predicting it for years, but I'm sorry I was right. I'm not even going to get into the whole post-Green Day "punk" marketing boom 'n' bullshit because, really, what's the point? Anyone who's too young or stupid to remember the times before that happened wouldn't understand, and all the rest of y'all reacted the right way: with fury, anger and spite, at first, spitting bile at the Blink-182s and the Suicide Machines and (the) Whomever(s) -- and then realizing it wasn't always the bands that were frauds, but that times had changed, paradigms had shifted, and definitions of genres of music had become so ingrained in our culture that it was looking fairly grim... so here I sit with a knowledgeable frown and a hint of disgust, lamenting the days when anything seemed fresh or rebellious and any music was inventive.

I'm burned out, baby; the machinery pulled my youthful spirit out of me like the husks of style emblazoned on my mind by the good 'uns, and packaged it and sold it, distilled into 3 chords and snot, the form all anyone knew. So fuck it, I gave up. You want it like this? You enjoy it. I only listen to Steely Dan and the Wu-Tang Clan nowadays -- ya geddit? One of them is totally synthetic, full of idiotic codes and a motivation lost to the annals of time, and the other one is... oh, never mind.

Honestly, I even have a hard time listening to ALL's new record Mass Nerder. It's great, really; it's ALL's newest record, they'll never stop, I have no complaints about their approach and they keep perfecting their vision -- they even brought ALLroy back. They know what's up.

But I don't know. The malls hooked a big ol' walletchain up to my heart and yanked it away on the tour bus bumper. Pop and punk -- these are no longer two great tastes that taste great together for me. The second I hear a harmony or a Stevenson-esque drum roll, I pass and I play "Punch Me Harder" by Superchunk. Or any NoMeansNo record. Or Pretzel Logic. (Have I mentioned the Wu-Tang Clan?)

However. But. Yet.

There are times when I (you) can hear a band and remember when... when a band tells you implicitly that they know what they're doing, when you hear more than the radio and less than (e)M(p)TV in their style.

A band whose influences tell you they came up through the minors the right way, a band who integrates their influences into their own sound, a band who can step beyond the constructs of a tired marketing ploy and push the boundaries.

A band who remembers the way it was and keeps living it that way now.

A band, in short, doomed to failure.

A band forever to be Unknown.

I'm friends with the Unknown -- let me get that out of the way, get that conflict of interest out in the open. They embarrass me. Why? 'Cause they still care and they still believe. Because they're still doing it to do it, because they're making the music they wanna make -- and, well, trends and backlashes be damned. Since far before 1993, predating the X-plosion, the Unknown has been polishing and perfecting catchy, deep, crystalline, hyper pop punky tunes with a zest for fun, life, reflection and animation.

They'll never stop, no matter how many shitty bands who might find them boring for being too progressive sign with Stagnant Pop or whatever... Get this -- the Unknown combine Japcore-hyper gloss intensity with old-school beerblasting with classic dynamic guitar riffage and top it off with heartfelt, emphatic SINGing, and they work and they sweat and they smile and they laugh. And no one cares and they take their 30 bucks to the diner and plan their next record or show.

Hey, maybe they're stupid. I don't know many other musicians who haven't traded in one trend for another searching for that breakout moment. I don't know anyone as true to themselves and as honorable as the Unknown. Maybe they're uncool. Nah, they're definitely uncool. They like kung-fu and Star Trek and all things Asian and old school punk. They like to eat, they wear flannel, they have jobs and they are constantly trying to be creative. Maybe they're weak. I don't know; I personally can't write a melody to save my life -- that's why my last band ripped off Kyuss and hid behind discord. Maybe they're too smart or proud. They don't even mind showing you how much they like ALL ("Incredible") -- and if that's not unhip, come to think of it, I don't know what is.

Anyway, they say nice guys finish last. There you go. You'll never get it. The Unknown aren't interested in "finishing." This is what they do, who they are, how they live. Do you know who you are?

Do you want to?