I Want to Taste the Salt of Your Skin

I'm wearing a vintage Kenny Rogers t-shirt today that my brother got me for Christmas in 2018 and it got me thinking about wearing the shirts of bands that you don't listen to, which has persisted as a hot-button issue in rock subcultures since merch really started to take off.

Not actually my shirt, but that is the one I currently have on.

Seeing somebody who more than likely doesn't listen to a band wearing a band's shirt and trying to needle them about their choice of shirt is something that the most basic rock bro loves to do. Case in point:



I guess that because you have devoted so much of your life to learning minutiae about a specific type of music, it feels good to identify and out somebody who is, in your estimation, a poseur. That will certainly make you feel big, but it also reflects more deeply ingrained gender dynamics in music, as especially rock music. How many of the people that he does it to in the above video are women? Does he gravitate to women rather than men because he assumes that most men will know? How many of those women were just panicking because they were put on the spot?

Being asked about the t-shirt that you're wearing is something that Rebecca has always worried about and that I had a hard time relating to. Becks hated talking about music and movies and their feelings about those things because there was such a history of men not believing their feelings were genuine. I couldn't believe that "Oh you like this band, name 5 songs" was a real thing, but obviously it happens all the time.

Who fucking cares what someone is wearing? Most male rock music fans are the type of losers who put any woman that listens to the same music as them on a unattainable pedestal anyways, so why are you purposefully trying to drive them away from that?

How that relates to my current shirt though is that the current fad of wearing vintage shirts is basically entirely built on wearing the shirts of bands you don't like.

Sidenote: Today, we were listening to Third Eye Blind's Self-Titled while driving. I wondered what type of merch 3EB has right now (it's all bad) and that led to me looking for their shirts on Etsy, where their 90s merch was going for hundreds of dollars.

A prime example of this is me right now. I don't really care about Kenny Rogers at all. "The Gambler" is a great classic rock staple and the MadTV skit was pretty funny, but other than that I have no tie to his music whatever. I like wearing the shirt because of commodity fetishism and because I love the aesthetic of old rock shirts. I can put on this t-shirt and because it's Kenny Rogers and it has the sewn-on stripes on the sleeves, it makes me look like Kelso.

Though at one time a celebrity wearing the logos of bands they clearly didn't listen to was grounds to roast them online, somewhere in the last 15 years the rock side of that argument lost so soundly that no one even noticed at all. Anyone bringing up that sort of argumentation now sounds like Abe Simpson in a bad way,* and we can see that reflected in current style.

*I find that "Ok boomer" got so tired after like a day. I get extreme chills of embarrassment every time someone uses it now.

Now, when someone wears a vintage t-shirt, like let's say an Instagram influencer wearing a Judas Priest shirt or something, it's about them acknowledging the spot that Judas Priest once occupied in music and pop culture discourse, rather than voicing your opinion of their music. What you're really saying by wearing your vintage shirt is "I know that heavy metal used to be dangerous and edgy and I like the aesthetic of the band". It's a post-modern way of interacting with popular culture, because we are now bringing the discourse and culture surrounding an idea or a band into our fashion choices, adding an extra, critical step in the choice beyond "I like the band, so I'm wearing the t-shirt", which I also still do.

I guess it's similar to other fashion trends coming back around again, like acid-washed jeans and hippie skirts, where a young person wearing them is doing so because the idea that it used to be cool is now cool enough to display that you know that.

Episodes From a Struggle Against Capitalism in 2018

One of my biggest vices is buying T-shirts. I can't get enough of them. Even though I have two deep drawers that are overflowing with them, I'm drawn to them like a moth to a bug zapper and just keep buying them anyways. It also doesn't help that most of my main interests have turned into glorified T-shirt factories. Punk bands set up a mini-mall in the venue and the Jays have a store the size of an Olympic swimming pool designed to sell things with their logo on it.

Beyond the utilitarian aspect of having a shirt to wear each day, I like T-shirts as a sort of artifact. I think it's cool that when I wear a band's shirt it's indicative of my enjoyment of them, but is also a physical manifestation of my memory of seeing that band on that night. I love my Lifetime shirt because it reminds me of the one time that I'll have gotten to see one of my favourite bands. More than that, it's also an artifact from that specific iteration of the band. I love my Sidekicks shirt because it was from their tour right after Awkward Breeds came out and is a nice reminder of when all of my friends and I were mesmerized by what the band was doing and excited to see them play the legion in Guelph.

This all being said, I am drowning in T-shirts and I am constantly trying to consume less in my life, so I made a pledge to myself in January 2018 that I would not buy any T-shirts (or clothes, really) for the whole year. I know that it's a silly project, but I also think that its non-essentialness and stupidity is part of what makes it fun.

Episodes From a Struggle Against Capitalism in 2018

1. The 2018 Toronto Blue Jays Season

The mighty king of the sports T-shirt world is undoubtedly the "shirsey", a T-shirt with a print of the front of a sports team's uniform on the front and a player's name and number on the back. Since I'm far too poor to chase my dream of a walk-in closet filled with different jerseys to wear each day, shirseys area fun and economical secondary option. Since they are so much cheaper than an actual jersey, you don't have to put as much thought into which player's shirt you purchase, as you won't be saddled with an expensive monstrosity you hate to wear if the guy's production falls off a cliff, or worse, right after you purchase it. As such, getting obscure or silly shirseys is a fun thing to do if you like sports.

As I've already covered on IMU, the 2018 Jays were fucking awful, so names that you would be proud to wear on your back were slim. But what the team lacked in star power, they made up for in spades with "that guy?" options. Curtis Granderson? Steve Pearce? Aledmys Diaz? These all would have been elite additions to my collection of heroes past, but thanks to my extreme will power and personal sacrifice, those shirts will go to someone more in need.

2. Power Trip, w/ Sheer Mag, Fury, and Red Death

Thanks to the rise of large-scale music festivals in North America, the days of elite package tours that travel all over Canada and the United States are a thing of the past. Mid-level bands still come through Toronto regularly, but I long for my youth when it seemed like a band at the height of their powers with several other signed acts were a regular occurrence. I am by no means hating on watching local bands, but it's just not the same as when you would go to a show and see four really good bands who were all extremely tight from playing each night on tour and were diverse musically.

That longing for package tours was a huge part of why I was so excited for Power Trip coming through Toronto in May with Sheer Mag and Fury. The show was rammed inside and each band had an elite merch set up that was as diverse as their sounds. Power Trip do great pastiches of 80's thrash shirts, whereas Sheer Mag's simple logo shirts seem like a classic design from when the "band shirt" was still in its infancy in the 70's. This show was my hardest test. Both bands' shirts would instantly enter into my primary rotation and get a lot of reps during the summer, but I persevered and out-lasted my desire to get one.

Also, at this show I saw a huge hesher metalhead in a battle vest puke on a couple while they were making out.

3. Joyce Manor, w/ Vundabar, and Big Eyes

Joyce Manor has been a favourite of mine for the better part of a decade now, ever since I heard their self-titled first record. Despite my long-standing love and appreciation of their music, I somehow only managed to see them for the first time this year, touring on Million Dollars to Kill Me.

Sidenote: This long streak of missing them included a 2011 show featuring their first trip to Canada, Lemuria touring Get Better. What a show.

I would love to have a Joyce Manor shirt and proudly display my appreciation for a band who's put out 5 good records in a row, but instead they had the misfortune of scheduling this show while I was on my T-shirt exodus. It seemed like there were many good options from afar, but I opted to not put myself through torture and didn't approach the table.

4. Algernon Cadwallader annouce a reissue of their discography

One of the saddest experiences you can have as a music fan is getting heavily into an artist shortly after they break up. Me checking out Television for the first time this week certainly has an air of "I can't believe they were this good the whole time!", but it's not nearly as bitter as realizing Algernon Cadwallader were emo gods only a year or two after they broke up. To make matters worse, there were times I could have seen them, but opted not to! What an idiot I was!

I scoured the internet to see if any record labels or online stores still had stock of Algernon merch, but the band's staunch DIY stance, a huge part of why I love them so much, meant their post-career online presence was next to nothing. I was haunted my image of a t-shirt, long since sold out, in online stores that no longer shipped.

Then, in the fall of 2018, the band announced that they would be reissuing all of their music through Asian Man Records. Cool! On top of that, the band would be reprinting their first t-shirt design and selling that as well. WHAT. ON TOP OF THAT, they would also be printing that design on my other apparel weakness, a black pullover hoodie. It was like Algernon had reached into my mind and plucked out what I wanted most.

But this wasn't about what I wanted. It was about what I had promised myself. And that was to buy no T-shirts during the 2018 calendar year. Mody Dick ate my harpoon and swam away. The marlin decomposed while tied to the side of my boat. I lay on my couch thinking of an alternate world where I would have an Algernon Cadwallader T-shirt.

5. The Sidekicks, w/Gladie, Found Objects, and Wayfarer

Like all good dramas, my quest to buy no new T-shirts was expertly paced. After the climax of the T-shirt I had dreamed of slipping away, the plot resolved with a lesser event. Like how the big death always happens in the second last episode of a season in The Wire. I saw one of my favourite Ontario bands, Wayfarer, play with one of my favourite active bands, the Sidekicks. The Sidekicks came on strong with a white long-sleeve that said "America's Greatest Living Rock 'n Roll Band" on the front and "POWER POP" down the sleeves, but I had already won my war. No shirts would enter my closet this year.