Cave In

I have heard too much good and too much bad to go in expecting nothing. I have to hit the edge of the spectra tonight. Which end? The end that propels me to an infinity; the end that makes my skull throb; my scalp reverberate. My eyes are numb. My teeth shatter. It is bliss. Shamefully this lasts only so long. I soon beg for them to hurry up… hurry the fuck up. Get a move on. Take a pill. Any-fucking-thing. FOR FUCK’S SAKE PLAY THE DAMN SONG. They don’t increase in pace. I crack my knees as I fall in despair for myself. Oceansize, Oceansize, why must you tease me so. If you were a lover I’d have left you in bitter exasperation.

I drag my desiccated soul stageward again. Experience is personal. Cave In: they are so very young. Was the whole hardcore shebang of that late 90s just a throe of unmitigated teenage angst? Such influential work can surely nay be discredited so. Surely there is still something more to them. Surely they can still violate my face with brutality; brutality lauded so, so far. The brutality that was induced into so much *hXc *and beyond into the neo-hardcore-post-census crews of yonder. Some disciples of which are to appear before me tonight.

They have changed. It’s different. Where is that edge. So raw before, it’s been accosted by the wet ‘n’ dry. And the goddamned Brasso. It’s acrylic. A fine finish on it now as well. Smoothed. Totally super-translucent in too many places now. There seems to be nothing there but you know there is. Or there used to be.