Hardcore Dancing: A Strictly Platonic Relationship

Curse you, I Declare War, Rotten Sound, The Acacia Strain, Nails, and many other bands in the Hardcore vein for making me a throw down-hungry motherfucker.

I used to hate the fuck out of Hardcore dancing. Hate hate hated! I would snicker on the sidelines as skinny kids flailed desperately at the surrounding air, seemingly combating an army of well trained assassins all whilst pulling down stars, mowing their invisible lawns, and picking up non-existent change, which in a couple of cases, I provided out of pure disdain. It was funny, too.

In an activity that requires lots of swinging and flipping, why does everyone have a hat on? Fuck.

So much I hated these people, that I would talk behind their backs, or even call for my fellow Metalheads to knock them down. Of course, I still kinda do this, but only if those assholes decide to invade a trve Metal pit with that dickery. If you’re gonna Dragon Ball Z combo the very air, do it at a show that no one will look at you funny for it. Or The Faceless.

Secretly enjoying some Tech Death

Yes I know Hardcore dancing isn’t a new phenomenon, and has been bastardized by kids who saw one Sick Of It All video when they were 12 and improv when in doubt, but I still have my right to bitch. It’s ended up in too many places where it shouldn’t be, and most of the people who do it could care less if their left Converse All Star ends up in your trachea. It’s madness I say! But if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. At least when the time is right.


If you’re too lazy to click the video I worked so hard on for about 45 minutes(shame, SHAME!), I’ll tell you this; the last section of the song is damn perfect for Two-Stepping, and activity which I had, until recently, condemned as assholic and unfit for anyone to do. Ever. But then I realized, why the hell not? It is a great way to stay in shape, first off. Gotta watch that fat. Secondly, it’s fun when you drop your preconceived prejudices about Hardcore Dancing in general. Forget the stupid kids who try to throw down at a Thrash show, this is about the real shit that tells society to go die in a hole. Especially Bush. But he’s not in office anymore so I guess all those shirt designs and album covers are obsolete now.

Haha! It’s funny because people don’t like him and he has a mighty morphin’ snake face!

People who know me or have listened to me rant about how stupid hardcore dancing and the people that do it are, and know that I borderline breathe fire at its misuse, will probably assume I’m under some strange spell, but fear not! I’ve simply opened my mind to a new way of showgoing. I’ve come to terms with the fact that not everyone’s down to push mosh, and in some instances push moshing might earn me a deft five knuckle dusting to my bishonen features. That’s a no-go. It’s either throw the fuck down when the situation calls for it, or die. I like to live and tell people about how violently awesome the show was the next day, so why the fuck shouldn’t I go bro?

Just to clarify, when I say Hardcore dancing, I mean the kind that doesn’t involve instruction from Mr. Miyagi. I may be the type to acknowledge that all moshing looks silly to the outsider, but even I have limits to how far I’ll degrade my damn self. Spinkicking, bicycle kicking, mule kicking, full on somersaults, cartwheels, and floorpunching aren’t my thing, and I laugh quietly to myself when I witness them. There’s a difference between getting out your frustrations and having a good time and pirouetting and collecting laundry money. Vast difference. So large, the Mojave desert’s grains spaced out 5 miles each would be about a seventh of that length. And I get the feeling that the world is turning on its side for some reason. This is unsettling. But moving on…

I can’t say what brought this change on, but I’m glad it did happen. I’m still a Metal guy, but I’ve come to see the value in Hardcore and its mannerisms. Just as a nice civil push mosh helps 300 pound drunkards in black with long hair vent after getting out their cubicles or just enjoy some righteous headbangery, the Hardcore pit gets out the anger of everyday life for the featherweight shorthairs in various colors. Both have their uses, but the trouble is that sometimes the Hardcore sector overreaches its bounds. My epiphany on Hardcore dancing has somewhat helped me realize that yes, we both look stupid as hell, but no matter what, it’s fun as fuck. Just no karate bullshit, or you’ll be laughed at.

I give up. I’m finally posting this damn picture.

It’s gotten to the point where I now practice my moves. Imagine that! Me, a metalhead, boning up on his swingin’ around, stomping, and Two-Stepping, the technique of his sworn enemy, the Dancer. It’s supposed to be my antimatter, the action which, when performed, damns me to an eternity of crushing by an infinitely dense hole in the gravitational blanket of space time. I ain’t supposed to like it, much less do it. But hey, you like what you like, and so what if it just so happens to be what all the most annoying mallcore kids or beefy dickheads like? When push fails to come to shove, alternate your feet and destroy.

And avoid this guy.

Cheers fuckers, stay xTUFFx.


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