Rock’n’roll has always been filled with queers—some
closeted, some out and proud. If the history of music is
filled with degenerates, misfits and weirdos, then you
will surely find creative homos at the forefront. From the
jazz era to the current wave of rock’n’rollers, music
has always been a source of inspiration and creativity for
gay men and women. When disco exploded onto the scene and
topped billboard charts, gay men and women were there to
create the noise, the fashion and the subculture. For me,
growing up as an ‘80s kid, punk was the noise that made
me aware that being different and queer was something that
was dangerous and messy.
When punk music came into my life, it was with a bang.
Hearing X-Ray Spex for the first time spoke to me much
more eloquently than any fluffy disco tracks. Here was a
subculture that embraced humor (however black), politics
and an acceptance of the strange and the alienated. What
more could a burgeoning gay boy ask for? Through punk, I
met other alienated, fucked-up kids, went to shows and
found groups of like-minded individuals with the same
political slant and social awareness. But sexuality,
despite punk’s radical ideals and seeming approval of
what mainstream society despised, was still very much a
closeted state. Gays were tolerated, but, except for a few
notable performers like Wayne County, were relegated to
the background. There were punkers who were queer but for
whatever reason chose to remain tight-lipped behind their
instruments.
In the late ‘80s, queercore became a truly memorable
movement. Fanzines were being produced that allowed gay
punks to network with each other and shows were booked
with queer bands proudly performing under the banner of
being gay. Tagging along with the Riot Grrrl movement,
queercore musicians were as volatile and outspoken as
their straight punk counterparts. Bands such as Tribe 8,
Huggy Bear, Sister George and Fifth Column brought a
decidedly queer theme to their music. Now, queer punks did
not have to become disco bunnies nor hide their lust for
their fellow punks. Kids were able to embrace the noise
and make no apologies for liking someone of the same
gender. Gay boys and girls wrote songs for and about other
gay boys and girls. Taking the spirit of punk to heart,
many of these bands had only the basic idea about how to
play their instruments. But what they lacked in musical
finesse, they more than made up for in their enthusiasm
and their heart. Although the queercore scene has created
some memorable music and shows, bands seemed to implode
and many notable forerunners have come and gone.
But the legacy of the ‘90s Riot Grrl movement and
queercore has paved the way for some great current bands.
Currently, the rise of the bands like Scissor Sisters and
Sleater-Kinney who have crossed over to both straight and
gay rockers gives hope that queer musicians will find a
wider audience. In the book, “Homocore: the Loud and
Raucous Rise of Queer Rock,” David Ciminelli and Ken
Knox do a fine job in documenting the US queer rock scene.
From Pansy Division to lesser-known bands like Best
Revenge and I Am Loved, it’s a great starter kit for any
young gay boy or girl interested in gay punk bands. It
will be interesting to see if the homocore movement can
regain the momentum that it had in the ‘90s. Even if it
doesn’t and has to retreat back to the underground, I
for one am excited to hear the noise and clamor the new
crop of queer punk boys and girls will make.
De Kwok is a writer and photographer living in Seattle.
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