Where Have The Rouges Gone?

As I have scanned the modern times in search of ingenuity, innovation, and other hip sounding "i" words, I've noticed something startling: There is a distinct lack of rogues out there.

Musicians, once the breeding ground for malicious and unsavory characters is now a dried out, post-apocalyptic wasteland of all things rebellious and rude. Where once nicotine infused, leather clad warriors of the cause existed, now only the emo-approved, Gap wearing poetry class rejects remain. Angst riddled they may be, but where's the fury? Where's all that vehement anger that only a few short years ago seemed to be in hefty demand?

It's a little strange for me to speak out about these things, considering how when I first picked up an instrument, anger was the last thing on my agenda. My initial aim was to be the voice of civility in otherwise aggressive music. Someone who could speak intelligently over the dim of loud electric guitars and double bass drums. As such, I had no time for the angry rantings of my more militant brethren. But, time makes fools of us all, and while age softens most mortals, it seems to have only made me more pissed off. And when I am enraged by the times we live in and seek a little furious testosterone set to a 4/4 beat, I look into the plethora of modern music available to me and find......nothing.

Seriously, there's nothing out there. Everyone seems very confused these days about what they're supposed to be doing. The pop guys are starting to dress like the emo guys, the emo guys are starting to dress like rap gusy, the rap guys are starting to dress like the metal guys, and the metal guys are starting to dress like the homeless. And the fury? Well songs about fancy cars, fly women, and associating inner turmoil with mortuary jargon may do it for you, but it doesn't really do it for me.

Even in the psychobilly realms, where that historic rebellion is claimed to be carried on is lacking somehow. Sure the songs got the beat, but it's hard to take them seriously when they're playing on Gretch guitars and upright basses costing several thousand dollars. And don't get me started on the clothes. Those old fashioned leathers and bowler shirts run a few benjamins, believe me I've checked.

Look back at the grunge era of yore. Sure there were a lot of guys tearing their flannel shirts and buying old, fucked up guitars to fit the scene, but at least the brunt of them were genuinely pissed. Throw a handful of 90's rejects into a rubber room with the current crop of hipsters, I promise you only the grunge disciples would be walking out.

And it's not happening in my little corner of artistic inequity. Remember the latter part of the 90's, how we had this wave of rebellious independent filmmakers out there trying to show the film industry how to make honest, raw movies? Tarrantino and Rodriguez were out there leading the charge and saying, "Hey, you don't need to be sucking on the tit of the major studios to make some good shit!" It was a breath of fresh air, and many undisciplined young men and women ran out there with camcorders to make their statement in the new age. Most of it was crap, but at least there was spirit involved. What about now? Rodriguez has made family films and leaves his wife to bang one of the Charmed? Where's the rebellion in that?

And what about the restaurant business? Once the home of the most despicable scum out there, slowly it too is being civilized. The drug bending, dangerous fringe of society that could only earn an income by wielding sharp knives on other people's food is slowly being washed out. In it's place, are culinary school grads. Eagle eyed and honor bound people with high hopes of becoming the next Rachael Ray. And yes, I am glad to see the kitchens of my local eateries finally getting some respect. It's hard work, and they deserve credit for what they do. Still, the cacophony of the disreputables is missed.

Leather jackets have been converted into semi-casual attire. Harley Davidson speaks more for businessmen than it does for biker gangs. The musical bastions who once spoke about living dangerously and against the system, are now trying to get with skanks on VH-1. And where are the leagues of young folks who grew up with this venom and were destined to succeed them? I don't know. Not here, that's for sure. Even in times like these, where there is so goddamn much to be pissed off about, the fringe voice seems to run pretty silent. The occasional outcry of hippes with petitions is about all we have anymore. It's been near 50 years since Vietnam, and when the country was against the war and the government said, "you're either with us or against us," people made their choice. And from that came an explosion of flower children, Hell's Angels, vagabonds, marauders, and others who went against the grain. And yet here we sit in similar times and have been given a similar ultimatum, and the fringe has disappeared.

Maybe the times are harder, I don't know. Gas costs too much to take in any soul-searching journeys. Hitchhiking is deadly, jobs are lacking, and the drugs aren't as much fun anymore. But I would assume that music, the birth-child of rebellion, would still be free. That the loud volume of heartfelt individuals who are displeased with the state of things would stand out as a lighthouse in the dim. But I see very little of that happening. Technology has robbed a bit of the old musical soul. Electronic drums and samplers are replacing more traditional rhythm sections, and the amatuer has the ability to showcase his work. A collage of bloops and bleeps that are far more sterility clean than any Erasure album. But at least Erasure knew how to spin a melody. So far the brunt of what I've heard leads me to believe they haven't even gotten past the presets on all that shiny new synthesizer equipment that Santa brought them. And presets doth not bring the rebellious spirit.

I have no idea what comes next, or even if anything comes at all. This may be a lull in our collective, or simply the evolution of a more civilized human. Regardless, I'll be shifting between Link Wray and Parliament albums waiting for the next revival of the rogue.