Dispatches from Asian American Unity Fest, Year Two by Olivia West [Part 2]

[This is part 2 of an amazing article written by Olivia West as a beautiful reflection of this year’s Asian American Unity Fest. Please read part 1 here.]

In 2019, I played a few shows with my good friends in Side Action. Someone responded to an instagram post of the singer Malaya with “is that Rhylli from Krimewatch?” and we had that ongoing joke for years. I went to college with Malaya’s sister Addy of Rat Tally, whom I was often mistaken for, even by people I had one-on-one projects with. The same thing happened with Sehun from No Model and Pierre from Dog Breath. Sehun even had bracelets made that said “We are all Pierre from Dog Breath.” I’m glad we can laugh in the face of being wrong Asianed. We are taking control of our narrative and power through music. Being authentic in your experience and using it to fuel your art seems to be the way of the pack. Sehun told me “I wanted to start a band like No Model for over 10 years. I didn’t want to start a band without having an idea of what I wanted to say. I really unlocked that when I started looking deeper inside myself and my lived experience as a Korean adoptee in New Jersey with a white family. I think there’s too many bands that manufacture their message now. I just try to be 100% authentic with what I want to say and what the goal is with the band.” That’s exactly why No Model is so effective. No Model closed the night with an explosive performance. Nic Palermo threw his guitar and stage dove mid set, Sehun bloodied his forehead on another poor SM58 grill, and the energy was through the roof. No Model is one of those bands that is undeniably fun and real, every member knows what they’re doing. It would be hard not to lock in during one of their shows.

“I’m glad we can laugh in the face of being wrong Asianed.”

Usually, I’m too tired to stand for every band or go to an aftershow, but this fest warranted a second and third wind. In an absolutely packed and sweaty room at The Broadway, Raw Distractions from Japan, the supergroup Real Asian Hate, Quiz and Boil took the stage. The aftershow pulled in a lot of people who weren’t at the main event, which made sense given the shift in sound. The main shows leaned more into hardcore, while the aftershow brought in the UK82 side of things. Across the full weekend you got metallic hardcore, melodic hardcore, hardcore punk, NYHC and a raw punk band from Japan. I won’t make a scene unity joke.

Real Asian Hate at the Broadway aftershow, photos by Ray Mock

Even those of us from places with significant Asian populations grew up feeling isolated in heavy music spaces. Moving from Washington to Boston made that even more obvious to me. Molly put it simply: “I felt comfortable in hardcore, but part of me still wasn’t sure if I belonged there because I didn’t see many people who looked like me.” AAU attendee and photographer Hee Jin Kim described the feeling perfectly: “This is what white people must have been feeling their entire lives. We have such a beautiful, diverse group of people, and I feel so at ease here.” 

My childhood friend Mei invited me to one of my first DIY shows at Heartland in Seattle’s U District by handing me a flyer scribbled on scrap paper during a plant ID class. Years later, after countless carpools and basement shows, Mei’s father finally asked, “How was the play tonight?” They had to explain we were not putting on full scale musical theatre productions. In many of our cultures, family comes first. Christian of Brainwashed said “My dad heard me listening to Avenged Sevenfold, he thought it sucked. But eventually Minor Threat and Black Flag came into my vision, I got there eventually.” Hee Jin grew up in a small coastal town where shows actually happened at churches, so it felt familiar enough to her parents at first. When they actually heard the music, “They did not like it. But I still went.” Nic’s entryway was his dad’s CD collection, bands like the Rolling Stones and Kiss, his brother and friends filling in the gaps from there.

“This is what white people must have been feeling their entire lives. We have such a beautiful, diverse group of people, and I feel so at ease here.”

A 2017 screenshot from my own father, at a conference for Pearl Drums in Europe.

Growing up with a Korean rocker dad, I’d ask him how he identified and he’d respond, “We are all children of God.” This man is not religious. I think him playing in bands with plenty of other Asian or Indigenous people settled his mindset. At the same time, if a white guy rubbed him the wrong way, he had no hesitation speaking his mind. When I asked if he had thoughts for this article he said, “If I was in a Korean hardcore band playing to a predominantly white audience, I’d take a jar of kimchi and start throwing it at them yelling, ‘Who’s the kimchi eater now?’ hahahaha!” He’s clearly still hung up on the stinky lunch thing. 

One of my dad’s bands in 1986; three multi-racial asians, one indigenous guy and one haole. Now that’s what I call Tacoma.

My experience is rarely identical to another Asian person’s experience, even another Wasian’s. Pan-Asian solidarity isn’t perfect, but it can become a useful tool when carving out space in scenes that often flatten us into the same category anyway. Christian told me “Being mixed, people weren’t necessarily angry at me for being Asian. All they knew was I was different and they wanted to make sure you know that. It doesn’t matter what you are. They all see you a certain way. They don’t care what specific nationality you are. It’s just whatever they think.” I relate to that deeply. I’ve heard variations of “I knew you were something, I just didn’t know what” my entire life. A thinly veiled comment. Even people who consider themselves progressive often reduce racism to skin tone while missing its cultural dimensions entirely. They clock that you’re different but can’t articulate why they don’t fully connect with you. Hee Jin added, “You’re made to feel like such an outsider, especially in a scene that’s supposed to be open.”

Day two at Gold Sounds was packed, as most of their hardcore shows are. Nic, Fizzy, Anthony and I had zipped from The Broadway to pregame at Gold Sounds until 4am the night before, so I already had a taste ofthe vibe. Fizzy hit me with a “Princess hands, Olivia!” while giving me some much needed pool tips. Still, nothing quite prepares you for the body heat, or the journey through it to the bathroom the next day.

From left to right; Pocholo and Nic of No Model being interviewed by the Paper Blog writers, Hee Jin Kim, Molly of Cherub Chains and Hannah of the Sour crew. Photo by Hee Jin Kim

Silent Spring from Mass kicked off the show. This band is the definition of “the kids will be alright.” When every standing member of your band is fully two stepping to emo metalcore riffs from 2007, you can’t help but feel their excitement to be up there. Too True from NC was up next. If you were lucky enough, you could have grabbed some Lumpia from the singer Joe’s vendor spot, Kuya Bear, on day one. Cujo from WA opened with a Nirvana riff that got all the kids jumping. Speaking with them outside, I found out I went to the same high school as the singer and guitarist, and that I had played a HC cover set with my ska band (lol) at the Boiler Room in 2016 with their drummer’s band, Power. Clock Out played some classic MA hardcore and they were a highlight. I met their singer, Victor Nguyen, while taking photos with Joe for the “Where Are You Really (Really) From?“, a self-published collection documenting Asians in hardcore and punk across the country. My favorite song of theirs is “Callin’ Out.”

No Model at The Meadows by Ray Mock

I had never listened to Sour prior to this show but I was blown away. Not only is everyone in the band super friendly, and has a lot to say about music, they were enthralling to watch. Nothing better than a tight rhythm section. The bassist, Daniel Powers, told me the guitarist Nate writes all the music, and because it’s so well written it’s like “he passes me a perfect steak and I sear it,” and ain’t that the truth. I’m hoping they tour to Boston very soon, but I will settle for seeing them at No Model’s last show on September 18th at TV Eye. Pocholo of No Model told me “It feels like I’m graduating,” reflecting on the band’s ending. On making music going forward: “I have to put in the effort to find people and make sure they’re on the same brain wave. Graduating into doing this in a way that isn’t so easy.” Ferment is as stylish as they are powerful. I wish they made size youth medium “Asian” belly rocker tanks; y’all would be sick of me. The impromptu Real Asian Hate set was even better than at the aftershow on night one.

Ferment at Gold Sounds on day two, photos by Ruben Romero

The lovely Judy organized the day two afterparty Karaoke at Alphaville. What’s more Asian than Karaoke? My uncle (콩나물 침) Kim used to have karaoke parties for my large extended family. He would sing ‘You Are My Sunshine,’ drink from his handle of jack and pass out. Pocholo and Judy sang “This Love” by Maroon 5, Nic sang “The Boys are Back in Town” and a Red Hot Chili Peppers tune with Sehun. Maya Bowman, friend of the pod, graced us with a beautiful rendition of Blue Bayou; a highlight was Sehun moshing and then getting a group to wave their lighters in appreciation. 

Signing my yearbook photo in Chang Hwan from No Model’s copy of the “Where Are You Really (Really) From?” book

In punk, people love to sort each other into tourists and lifers. Often this black and white thinking is what draws them to the subculture. What I loved about this fest was seeing heavy music extend beyond just the bands, into vendors, art, and community. I met up with my long time friend Nori, who is now living in Kobe and operating an English speaking bookstore there, alongside Bison, artist residency housing he renovated from abandoned buildings with friends. I met Nori years ago when he booked my bands in a space above his mother’s weaving and indigo dyeing studio in Worcester. He no longer plays in bands or notes a local punk community but is a working artist and supporting other people like him. However punk touches us, it ripples through our lives outward towards collective spaces, multimedia art, and shared learning. The organizers of AAU want to inspire young people to go out, build community, and make art. I hope they do.