CRABCORE!
(NOTE: I realize that in today’s fleeting world of two-minute internet phenomena, I’m way late to the train when it comes to commenting on the subject matter in today’s post. To that, all I can say is: fuck you, I’m a busy dude. Besides, all of last month’s blogs around the internet on this subject were, like, three lines long and consisted mostly of “OMG WTF.” When you want in-depth analysis of meaningless shit, you come to Cultural Zero.)
Fig.1: This senior portrait of me in all my embarrassing hesher glory is important context for the insanity yet to come. Note: I no longer own the Trixter hat.
If you’re anything like me, you were probably a kid once. And unless you’re one of those insufferable types who were raised by ultra-hip parents with cutting-edge style and taste in music, you often heard your square, out-of-touch parents crack wise about your favorite bands being a whole bunch of “noise.”
This was definitely the case with my parents, whose record collection consisted of Oak Ridge Boys greatest hits collections and Dick Clark’s 20 Years of Rock ‘n’ Roll, featuring “Wooly Bully” (and, inexplicably, Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison, which I promptly stole from them upon discovery and which was responsible for my now-ingrained love of the Man in Black. How my parents stumbled upon a record that awesome I’ll never guess. Maybe a babysitter left it behind one night or something).
My parents were patient, supportive sorts while I paraded around in my hair metal jean jacket and sang the praises of Slaughter and Warrant, but in the back of their heads I could tell they were asking, “what in the holy hell is wrong with the Kids These Days?” To his credit, my dad tried—he once slipped me a dubbed copy of Iron Butterfly’s “In A Gadda Da Vida” and suggested I might enjoy the drum solo—but he mostly left me alone to discover quality music on my own (although I’m pretty sure that if I played him some Six Finger Satellite or Melt-Banana today, he’d still wonder what the hell my deal was. Probably still call it all “noise,” which I would enthusiastically agree with and then explain why that’s a good thing). Meanwhile, I swore that I would always be hip to new music and not flatly dismiss something that the next generation was freaking out over. I will not be my parents!
But.
It was my introduction to the concept of crabcore that finally turned me into my parents. Behold—the song that finally poked the “get off my lawn” receptors in my brain and caused a knee-jerk “Holy mother of Jesus WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE KIDS THESE DAYS” reflex in my jaw, lips and tongue: “Stick Stickly” (for fuck’s sake) by (in the name of all that is holy) Attack Attack!.
Fig.2: When they cast the blonde chick and put her in the video, didn’t they think it was a bad sign that she kept putting her hands over her ears and wincing in pain?
Hrm, terrible screamo with autotune, and did you make it to the 2:46 mark? That techno breakdown is the sound of your brain shutting down in a flurry of broken synapses. Seriously, the first time I watched this video and that breakdown shit I was all Guy From Scanners up in here.
Someone, somewhere (I haven’t the energy or will to find out who) dubbed this crap “crabcore” after the idiotic “crouch” pose that the members strike in the video. Yep—the “genre” label has nothing to do with the actual “music,” but everything to do with the dance moves—which, incidentally, are so laughably choreographed that they remind me of the shit Warrant pulled in the “Down Boys” video back in ‘89.
Fig.3: New game: SHREDDING or POOPING?
Certain corners of the internet went nuclear mocking this stuff back in June and July, to the point that the video nearly disappeared from YouTube (that’s right—the video is so bad it almost got laughed off of YouTube). An epic Wikipedia entry on crabcore was written and then removed by the site (but not before it was reposted elsewhere).
But crabcore lives on. Observe—another band with awful riffs and auto-tune surfaced shortly after Attack Attack!: Confide, seen here covering that boring-ass Postal Service song “Such Great Heights.” What can Brown Note do for you?
Fig.4: Note the worst/greatest misuse of Obamamania in history–the “HOPE” tattoo (is it even a real tattoo?) on the drummer’s fingers. Oh, Confide! No one asked me to the junior high dance and my mom won’t buy me a Playstation, but you encourage me to have HOPE!
And I can proudly report that my band and I have observed this crabcore phenomenon occurring naturally in the wild. A recent weekend trip to Dubuque, IA found us playing with a high school metal band that attempted to mimic the signature crabcore elements: screamo w/synth, the crabwalk, the running in place. I was thrilled to get to experience this stuff in person. And of course, it was terrible, but I can’t hate on it too much because the kids were in high school! My high school band was a cover band called “Crazy Dawg” that played BTO and Poison, poorly. However, at least we were listening to music produced by people older than us. Taking influence from Attack Attack! (whose bassist, according to his MySpace page [“mepunkrockjock?” GOD DAMMIT], is seventeen fricking years old) when you’re the same age as them is akin to the proverbial snake eating its own tail.
But if I’m reluctant to slam local Dubuque kids for being clueless (because c’mon, they’ll grow up and find DEVO and Slade albums soon enough), why am I so eager to write a whole column shitting on more famous crabcore bands that are the same age? After all, these kids may be playing the Warped Tour and getting famous for having no concept of musical history, but they’re just as likely to someday finally hear a Who, Mission of Burma or Sonic Youth record. Well, probably because A) it’s fun, and B) seeing this kind of crap being rewarded by record labels with tour support and video budgets, and thus making it less likely that these kids will ever search out anything good, is a bit scary.
I’ve always been suspicious of rewarding musical mediocrity, whether it’s a slot on Warped Tour for screamo kids who’ve never heard an emo record from the 80s or 90s; fans of so-called “lo-fi” bands who sound exactly like garage bands from the 60s and 70s and contribute nothing new other than purposely shitty recording; or people flipping out over the latest local band that happens to throw an accordion or something else “unconventional” into the mix. And because I’m a jerk, I like to blame this latest reduction of bad metal and faux-“sensitive” lyrics on every screamo kid who attended a bad metal show at the Shorewood Legion Hall or That One Building On Center Street in the first half of this decade, less interested in songwriting or musicianship than in “brutal riffage” or doing spin-kicks in the pit like they were testing for their green belt in douche-fu. Thanks, mid-00s hardcore kids! You’ve given us Attack Attack! And Confide! And their stupid layered hairdos! Get off my lawn!
See? I’ve finally become my parents. Well, except for the whole “living in a small town and not doing anything creative ever” thing. But despite the fact that, like the crabcore kids of today, I once dressed like an asshole and listened to vapid bullshit and should therefore give them a chance to get their heads out of their butts too, I find myself more inclined to listen to music that’s stood the test of time than whatever is being churned out today. That’s a little scary to me, but a little comforting too, because I know the Wipers’ first three albums will never disappoint me. It’s not that I dismiss anything new—I dismiss anything that sucks. Thank god I have that Ponytail record to back me up.
Anyway, what’s really worse? Jean jackets and a mullet?
Or v-neck t-shirts and emo hair?
Jesus. At least I didn’t sit in a salon and spend money to look like a prick.
Holy crap, DJ. You even looked like a douche FOR 1992. Your togs, specs and do are SO 1987!
But you’ve caught up nicely. Now you’re simply classic.
In the good way.
Fun column DJ! Liked it a lot!
And, (I’m sure you’ll be getting a lot of these comments) thank you so much for posting your senior picture. I- I- I- don’t know what to say. Can I get a print copy for my apartment?
I don’t know, I still don’t think CRABCORE is really outrageously different than it’s two predecessors (screamo and postal service) i actually don’t see it being all that outrageously different than Ponytail, or Mission to Burma.
I know people who would call almost everything you mentioned (positively or negatively) in this article “common practice music” and who are appalled that any such things are still being produced and taken seriously these days.
“…doing spin-kicks in the pit like they were testing for their green belt in douche-fu.”
Ba-dump-bump. Love that one. — Strini
Ben: You know a lot of snobs. 😉
Kids are so wacky!
And did anyone notice the t-shirt that kid on the right (in the last picture) is wearing? It’s all the buttons one might find on a tape deck, or a VCR. Two things I guarantee those lil Emo embryos have never seen or owned.
You don’t know to much im seeing you listen to everyone else on the web.
I personally know attack attack and they have no idea what crabcore is and don’t consider themselves it at all. Whats wrong with being 17 are you trying to dog on them for success at 17 in my eyes thats no where near a problem look at miley cyrus shes like 14. And emo hair i would go along the lines of trendy hair the guys are no where near being emo.
And the stance he does is just to seem original i don’t like its that cool but they have to have some stage presence and not just stand around (probably what your band does).And the confide im a big fan. First off theres no autotune and guys a good singer check out hes solo project he has some acoustic and its good and the love hope thing on his hands is because he strongly believes in god. And why go this far to diss any type of music everyone making music should just be doing what they love not trying to sounds like everyone else i dont see why its a problem. Learn your facts to if your gonna write something like this and don’t just go by what everyone says on the internet.