I’ve mentioned on the various blogs I’ve contributed to that I have a dark past, one that I keep locked up and only reveal to people I trust… I was once a hardcore kid. It started with the song “405″ by Death Cab for Cutie, moved quickly to Taking Back Sunday, then Funeral for a Friend, then Underoath. Underoath is a bit of a gateway drug for the scenestar, it is at this point a kid decides to remain content with this degree of hardcore-ness, or take it up a notch into the realm of Converge, Comeback Kid, and Dillinger Escape Plan, I took the latter. I was a pilgrim in an unholy land at most of these shows throughout my high school years, learning the ropes of something I barely understood. By the time I went to university in Montreal, I felt I had the moves, the anger, and the agility to outwit, outlast, and outplay anyone at a show. I would roll with hardcore crews, spin-kick kids in the face, and was once credited with accidentally shattering a girl’s nose with my fist. That was until Comeback Kid rolled through with Bane. Comeback Kid brings out an entirely different breed of people in Montreal: thirty year old skin heads who are so furious with life that they are willing to kill people if it makes them feel slightly better. I met their wrath in October of 2005, full-force. Mom and Dad, if you’re reading this, you might want to stop NOW:

Throwing Down to The Number Twelve Looks Like You

The openers for the night were The Reason, now this was before The Reason began sucking like a hooker on dollar night, they got the  crowd at least a little pumped, and few kids were even moshing. I stuck to the side and quietly surveyed the situation and what I saw was quite terrifying: jacked assholes assembling - beer in hand and shit eating grin glued to their face. I felt safe though, the kids I rolled with at these shows were beginning to show up in great numbers, so at the very least they had my back. The Reason’s set ended and Comeback Kid began setting up, one Quebecois guy in my crew, Marc, noted the rather odd crowd forming and said, “I think I’m going to sit this one out.” This was by far the smartest thing said the entire evening, and in reality, I should have followed his lead, I was young and arrogant though, and I wanted to dance… my fuck, I wanted to dance.

Lights dim, the boys from Comeback Kid come on stage, and the pit instantly is opened by spin kicks and windmills. These guys were not fucking around, my nose was bloody before the first note was played, the entirety of my crew backs off, with the exception of me and one psycho motherfucker who was the meanest dancer I’ve ever met. Three songs in I’m covered in blood and bruised to shit… but I’m still moving, driven by more adrenaline than I could possibly imagine. It got so violent that it wasn’t dancing anymore, it was just a bunch of guys aiming to seriously injure people, and I was the tiniest person still left in the pit, all of their attention was directed at me. “Loreli” comes on and within four seconds I’m kicked in the head so hard I actually never felt it… I was knocked unconscious THAT quickly. I’m dragged out of the pit and I come to, I’m told by everyone around me I should sit out the rest of the set, I refuse, and jump right back into the pit. I’m quite confused however and begin vomiting all over the place, this just infuriates the shit-fucks in the pit. Final song comes on, Wake the Dead, seriously… one of the most bad ass songs I’ve ever heard. I’m dancing, I’ve lost a lot of blood, I’m easily concussed, but I’m loving it. With maybe thirty seconds left in the song, I’m crushed by a guy twice my size. I felt this one, but was knocked out cold. It wasn’t the initial hit that knocked me out, it was my head hitting the ground at a lightning pace. The set ends, I’m pulled out, and eventually come to. I was told that  I was out for at least two minutes. I skip the Bane set and walk to the hospital. I suffered not one, but two concussions on the same night, at the same show, during the same band, ten minutes from each other.

I’m FUCKING HARDCORE.