What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Okay, so it's been awhile, but things are crazy. And by things, I mean me. I'm nuts. But if you're reading this, that's probably why. I can only guess.

So June went by stupidly fast because I went on an excursion to Minnesota. You want proof?



There it is.

I didn't expect to enjoy being back as much as I did, but it was amazing. It's always weird little things that you miss. Like your siblings.

While I was there, I went down to Infinity and got a new tattoo. I went with M and she got another one, too, and yes, I did say "another". M has loads of tattoos and she looks great, and the guys at Infinity always do an awesome job. Plus, they've got a candy machine full of chewy Spree. What more could you ask for?

Anyway, it was good being back, and it got me thinking about how little I've actually changed since high school. I have a couple of degrees now, and the Punk is pretty awesome, but everything about me is still pretty much the same. Same politics, same accent, same magazine, better record collection. People say you change as you get older, but they're wrong. If you change too much, you're not doing it right.

I always thought it would be awesome be publish The Antagonist forever, but I didn't think it would actually happen. I know ten years isn't all that long, but it's not bad, and the magazine's longevity has been the greatest surprise ever. I put it down to being stubborn, foolhardy, and irritated enough with the world that I have to constantly make fun of it.

Sure, things have changed over the years -- it's more about the music now, for one thing -- but I think it's better than ever. Issue 6 is going to be a weird one. It's our Post-Apocalyptic Silent Movie issue. Why? Well it beats the hell out of "Fall Fashion Dos and Don'ts".

For this one we've got an interview with Dandelion Snow, Niki Lee's first column all the way from West Hollywood, a review of Emily's Army at the Troubadour, Violent Matt's investigation of Coulrophobia, the fear of clowns, and loads of exciting pictures of Sammie. Here's one:



I'm having a lot of fun with this one, changing all the fonts and colours for the occasion (way more exciting to me than you can imagine), and going out of my way to find content just that little bit weirder.

Why not?

Now I say this a lot, but I am always looking for new writers, models, bands, artists, etc, etc, so if you or anyone you know would like to get involved in any capacity from any part of the world, let me know. It's been clinically proven that I am actually the nicest Editor in the history of Creation, so get in touch, and I might even bake for you: primaryantagonist@gmail.com

Green Day at the Birmingham NEC

Just got back from the Green Day show in Birmingham and I'm covered in bruises.

It was an amazing show, and it was nice to see one that I didn't have to write about, although I find I do that anyway (Exhibit A). It's a way of life at this point. I left my camera at the hotel cause I didn't want anything to happen to it and immediately felt weird and anxious without it. It was just as well, really -- we were too far away to get good pictures and I probably would have killed the poor thing at some point -- I managed to fall over a row of seats at the LG Arena stone cold sober. Impressive, right?

Everything that needs to be said about Green Day's live performances has already been said. Listening to the giddy teenage girls sitting behind me on the bus for the three hours it took to get to Birmingham left me with the impression that I knew what I was getting myself into, but I didn't expect my reaction. As I said, I couldn't really see anything at the show, but I still felt for a second like I was ten again, strapped into a pair of black and pink rollerblades with a Blizzard in one hand and a discman in the other; Dookie was the first CD I admit to owning. I knew all the words (much to my mother's chagrin after hearing Longview), and I still do.

So does everyone else, it so happens. The audience participation level rivalled mass viewings of Rocky Horror Picture Show and the set was longer. Everybody was singing, and what struck me about that was how clear it was for 16,000 people. When Billie Joe's voice dropped out leaving the entire audience singing Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) it was incredibly moving. I bet the Church wishes it could rally a congregation together like that -- not only in size, but in time, harmony, and accuracy. The passion was palpable. Somehow this band has managed to draw together masses and masses of people through music and a message -- it's Punk values on a worldwide scale and it's inspiring.

On a side note, I don't think I'll ever forget the weirdness of feeling like the only American in Birmingham during American Idiot. Being surrounded by that many bouncing Europeans shouting about just a few of the failings of my home country, well... that was awkward. Don't get me wrong, I was shouting, too, but I wasn't in a hurry to announce "hey, this song's about me!", either. Still, it was cool to be at the back watching all this from a different perspective. When American Idiot came out, I was still in Minnesota. It really has a different resonance when it feels like it's aimed more at you...