Label Me / Dischord Records
Words by Rick Moslen
Growing up, many of us believed in punk rock but never considered ourselves “punk.” We moshed at shows, bought $3 Epitaph compilations, and complained about Green Day not being a real punk band, but despite a few oddly colored hair manifestations, we never looked the part. Then high school arrived and we discovered Fugazi (cue Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus). Not only did they look like regular dudes, but their aesthetic was as essential as the music. My high school punk band suddenly sported Fugazi-esque principles: only charge $3 at shows; strictly play all-ages venues (we were teenagers…easy done as said); and halt mid-song if douchebags in the crowd become too rowdy (Fugazi fans know these characters as “ice cream eating mother fuckers”). In the end, both the music and ideologies behind Dischord Records allowed us to believe that REAL punk rock actually existed—and not in a studded-belt fashion sense or overproduced corporate sort of way.
Dischord birthed in hopes of documenting the burgeoning Washington DC hardcore scene in 1980, because Ian MacKaye (Minor Threat, Fugazi) and Jeff Nelson (Minor Threat) assumed the scene would die once everyone grew up. Thirty-one years following the first Teen Idles 7”, the label’s more relevant than ever. Dischord helped sprout the DIY (Do It Yourself) work ethic that’s surfaced the past thirty years through bands, independent labels, music zines, indie record shops, more bands, music venues (including peoples’ houses), independent concert promoters, and blogs—like the one you’re reading now. It countered rock n’ roll machismo by unintentionally influencing Straight Edge culture and helping bring about the Riot Grrl movement and “emocore” bands. Dischord cemented Washington DC as a genuine historical music scene, and along with early-DC band Bad Brains, LA’s SST Records, San Francisco’s Alternative Tentacles label, and hundreds of others, Dischord legitimized punk rock as an independently produced yet emotionally definitive musical genre. Thanks, guys!
The label’s recently reissued over 40 classic Dischord albums. Purchase them all—hell—they won’t poke holes in your otherwise small wallet. Dischord sells their albums at more-than reasonable prices. Early on MacKaye and company acknowledged their largest monetary hurdle: the distribution. Solution? Have another company distribute the records. Simple! Their deal with Southern Records helped poor students, suffering artists, and crust punks everywhere escape chain store prices when buying their favorite records (without asking mom and dad for the money).
One can read about Dischord’s history in-depth via hundreds of websites, blogs, and books, but for now, onto the music…here we go… a few essential Dischord albums in the order of their appearance:
Scream, Still Screaming (1983)
Close your eyes and picture a “punk” show. Do the romantic lyrics to MXPX’s “Punk Rawk Show” come to mind, or do you dream of an ear-shattering basement with shirtless, sweaty dudes spluttering and flying everywhere? Well, Scream soundtracks the latter mental image. They’re known in rock history as Dave Grohl’s pre-Nirvana band, but Scream’s best albums materialized way before that joker joined.
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring (1985)
Emotional, passionate, physical. Girls you wish these adjectives painted your new boyfriend—instead the words illustrate early-80’s punk band Rites of Spring. Their only album proved that it’s ok to experiment and sing about ones own soul through hardcore music—hell even your mom will shed a tear as she pokes through your room, discovers the lyric sheet, and indulges in Guy Picciotto’s musings.
Dag Nasty, Can I Say (1986)
Hit up a local punk rock karaoke night, belt a rendition of “Values Here” or “Circles,” and prepare for punk rock dorks to buy you drinks (the even greater irony is that you’ll get an extra whiskey shot if you sing the harmonies). Brian Baker (Minor Threat) merged with other DC veterans and formed the fist-pumping, straight edge Dag Nasty. Soon Dave Smalley (of the straight-edge band DYS) joined on vocals and they cut this swag album.
Fugazi, 13 Songs (1988)
Choosing a favorite Fugazi album is like deciding which one of your balls a doctor needs to cut off—it’s impossible—you need them all. So I chickened out on this one and asked my roommate Caroline to name her favorite Fugazi release instead. She chose 13 Songs, noting that “Waiting Room” changed her life. Excellent choice…it changed lots of peoples’ lives.
Jawbox, Novelty (1992)
J Robbins’ guitar sang 90’s distorted crunch like no other. Simply put, Jawbox rocked. Sure they pissed off some by signing to a major label, but WHO CARES. At least the band’s flirtation with Atlantic Records resulted in an awesome album. They were one of two Dischord bands that signed to major labels…I shudder to think about the other band’s major label experiences…what’s their name again?
Hoover, The Lurid Traversal of Route 7 (1994)
Holy Roller’s Fabuley was originally slotted here—but then I realized the absence of Trusty’s catchy Goodbye Dr. Fate—awesome as well. THEN Hoover came to mind. I finally grew tired…and lazy…so I settled with Hoover. Dischord bands specialized in intensity—especially these gents. Like…wow. If you’re looking for the best representation of Dischord’s post-hardcore sound, check out this album.
The Warmers, The Warmers (1996)
Along with a few sweet Indian restaurants, The Warmers were probably DC’s best-kept secret. I can cheat and call them a Fugazi ripoff, but “Snake Charmer’s” opening drumbeat instantly proves me wrong. They graced us with (only) one damn album and then quit to indulge in wilder endeavors: Alec MacKaye became an art snob, Amy Farina continued her textured drumming in The Evens, and Juan Luis Carrera managed bands like Modest Mouse. Musicians these days…they grow up so fast.
Q and Not U, No Kill No Beep Beep (2000)
Once-destined as the less-riotous Minor Threat of a younger generation, Q and Not U perfectly foreshadowed early -2000’s dance-punk tastes—but they were way better than any of that other shit. Playfully violent suburban imagery (“Dress me in your favorite clothes / kill me with your favorite comb”), John Davis’ shotgun drumming, and soaring guitars fly through No Kill No Beep Beep… the first Dischord release to speak towards this century’s adolescents (that included me).
Lungfish, Love is Love (2003)
Pop quiz. Lungfish was:
a) The longest-surviving Dischord band
b) Arguably the most underappreciated Dischord band
c) A group of fellows who used repetition and cryptic poetry (courtesy of lyrical wizard Daniel Higgs) and created this divine-like state in the listener’s mind if repeated (with no breaks) for a few hours straight.
d) All of the above
Don’t be a fool—the answer’s ‘D.’
Lungfish / Fearfully and Wonderfully
Beauty Pill, The Unsustainable Life (2004)
The rhythmic orgy of “The Western Prayer,” the spare acoustics on “Prison Song,” the lyrical drug trafficking during “The Mule on a Plane”— so many random stellar moments on Beauty Pill’s full-length. I warn you that the album’s a grower, but Chad Clark’s somber lyrics, the male/female vocals, and warm guitar tones create the perfect Dischord sound for the new century.
Beauty Pill / The Western Prayer
Whether your an ice cream eating motherfucker or a DIY punk, you can’t deny Dischord’s catalog. Revisit those Fugazi albums and more at the Dischord’s Store page.
Filed under: Label Me, Not Blake, Jim, or Brendan
this is amazing. don’t forget unwound, they brought the pain
[...] one of the best DC bands (recall my write-up on Dischord Records and contemplate the magnitude of that statement), formed as a joke punk group during the 80s. Thank [...]