TITLE: "We Gotta Know"
ARTIST: The Cro-Mags
ALBUM: The Age of Quarrel
RELEASE DATE: 1986
My son, as it's turning out, is not a morning person. From the moment he woke this morning, he behaved like an obstinate little bastard. After throwing several moany tantrums, making his big sister repeatedly cry and spitting out most of his breakfast, it became glaringly apparent that our little lad needed some air. So I strapped him into the stroller, and he and I set off for a nice, relaxing morning stroll through the East Village.
The streets at this early hour were practically devoid of any semblance of life, which was surprising for a beautiful Spring morning. Crossing 2nd Avenue, we passed a sullen young lady of about twenty years of age in clingy, leopard-print tights, a bullet belt, Doc Martens and a meticulously frayed denim vest walking a pair of suitably mangey dogs. As if on cue, upon spotting our stroller, she sneered, and turned her back to us -- revealing what looked like a freshly minted back-patch on her vest featuring the iconic sleeve of The Age of Quarrel by the Cro-Mags (an album that is about as old as she is). I had to laugh.
East Villagers -- scratch that, make that most New Yorkers -- tend to hate strollers. Much of the time, I don't blame them. Many stroller-pushing parents don't seem to take into account that not everyone considers their children royalty. As such, these pig-headed parents will plough down narrow sidewalks with their clunky double-wides while blabbing on their cellphones, fully expecting all and sundry in their path to dutifully hop out of their way, lest they get run over. It's a presumptuous attitude to say the least, and earns all the scorn it attracts. While there certainly have been moments when I've been tempted to use our ridiculously pricey stroller as a battering ram (I've often toyed with the idea of putting metal spikes and a cow-catcher on the front end), I can happily attest that I've never struck anyone with it, much less run over their toes.
More to the point -- and I've ranted about this before -- human beings procreate (even Cro-Mags founder Harley Flanagan has two little boys -- go give him shit, I dare ya!). While little Miss Ersatz-Punkette (she very well may have been Lauren from "America's Next Top Model: Cycle 10," now that I think about it -- although she lives in Brooklyn, if memory serves) with her scruffy pooches might think we're ruining her little bohemian daydream existence by having kids and daring to sully St. Marks Place, I'd hasten to remind her that it's 2008 -- it's been a LOOOOOOOOONG damn time since the East Village -- now rife with stand-alone ATM machines on virtually every corner -- was a hotbed of punk rock. If anything, it was dying on the day she was born. Hell, I even saw the Age of Quarrel-era Cro-Mags when she herself was being pushed around in a damn stroller, so fuckin' check mate, princess! And at least my kids don't shit all over the street like your stupid mutts, you poser!
I hurrumphed to myself for the next several blocks while Oliver happily babbled away. We turned around when we hit Avenue A and gradually made our way back. But I've had "We Gotta Know" by the Cro-Mags stuck in my head ever since. I still have the vinyl of the album, but it currently resides in a big case of records stored down on Van Dam Street. Moreover, I have no turntable anymore (heavy sigh). Still itching to get my `86 hardcore on, when Peg took the kids out earlier this afternoon, I set out in search of the Cro-Mags on compact disc.
I headed west this time. Ironically -- and some might say tragically -- of the (very) few remaining record shops left in the East Village, the chances of finding any albums by bands like the Cro-Mags therein are exceptionally slim. I mean, ya might luck out at Sounds, but it'd be a stretch. Moreover, despite its hallowed status in hardcore circles, The Age of Quarrel always seems to be out of print. I remember seeing a couple of versions of it floating around, but always with completely different cover art. I walked over to Generation Records on Thompson Street -- arguably the preeminent Manhattan stronghold for music of this variety (purists might also cite Bleeker Bob's, but albums procured at that shop always seem to come covered in a disquieting patina of mysterious slime). I wasn't in Generation for more than a second before I saw the vintage cover of Quarrel (the blinding mushroom cloud) exploding right in front of me, lovingly emblazoned with the legend Original Remastered Recording as if it was some lost concerto by Brahms. Fourteen dollars later, the album was once again mine to spin.
The Age of Quarrel was probably one of the last legitimate hardcore albums I got into before tiring of the whole scene. The band itself -- despite including guitarist Doug Holland, originally from the (to my mind vastly superior) proto-hardcore band Kraut -- seemed somewhat hard to fully endorse. Though not quite as meat-headed as their scene-brethren in Agnostic Front nor as jokey as the comparatively light-hearted Murphy's Law, the Cro-Mags themselves were, frankly, a pack of scary dudes. And as a band, they attracted an equally scary audience. A Cro-Mags show was always an excellent opportunity to have your teeth knocked out by a gaggle of angry, sweaty skinheads. If you were audacious enough to, say, have hair in front of them, you probably bore all the trappings of an excellent beat-down recipient. I believe that the band members themselves were a bit more enlightened, but not their crowds. This is also why it was so seemingly incongruous to learn that at least two members of the original Cro-Mags (bassist Flanagan and burly vocalist John Joseph) were practicing followers of Hare Krishna. I've never been able to quite reconcile that, but that very conflict certainly leant the band more mystique than the rest of the (proudly) knuckle-dragging NYHC horde.
In any case, The Age of Quarrel was one of the first albums that truly fused hardcore punk with heavy metal. The end result was positively visceral. Pairing the stealthy oomph of the Bad Brains with the crunching heaviosity of bands like Anthrax, this fleeting incarnation of the Cro-Mags seemed to embody the brutal strengths of both genres. I was a sophomore in college when the album came out, and I resisted it for a long time (I was busily getting into more gothy stuff like The Mission and 'college rock' like The Feelies). But when I first heard the blustering strains of "We Gotta Know" flooding out of my friend Jeff's room across the dank, basement-level hall of our dormitory, I succumbed. Simply put, The Age of Quarrel is NYHC at its very finest.
The Cro-Mags themselves, evidently, didn't play nice together, and the Age of Quarrel line-up was soon history. Harley and founding guitarist Parris Mayhew carry on today, but Doug Holland and John Joseph are long gone, and acrimoniously so. I have no clue what happened to drummer Mackie, but the last I remember was that he was drumming for the since-defunct ska band, Urban Blight. John just penned a sprawling autobiography. Doug Holland occasionally reforms Kraut, it seems, but I have idea what he's up to otherwise. I don't have a lot of opportunities -- let alone inclination -- to listen to the stuff anymore, but every now and then, it all comes rushing back.
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