by Aaron Jenkins

As I brooded on Broadway one lazy afternoon, a poster featuring President Bush's head over crossbones caught my eye, imploring me to "Take Action Now." It was an invitation to the first general meeting of Bands Against Bush (BAB), to be held at the Vera Project on August 4. Since the sign invited everyone from "MCs, punks, and techno hunks" to "queercoreans in DeLoreans," I figured a socially aware 17-year-old like me would fit right in.

That night, I found myself sitting in a talking circle in Vera's drab concert chamber on Fourth Avenue with a dry-erase idea board hovering over us. Of the sixteen other folks in the room, all were white, some were pierced, and most wore Converse. They all looked far cooler than I ever could. But behind the emo glasses and underneath the bedhead they were just people with a vague idea that making loud music induces positive change.

"Chris," a soft-spoken guy in his early 20s, wore a tank top and ripped black-and-white-striped capris. He facilitated the meeting and gave us the scoop. The BAB concept is the brainchild of Tobi Vail, a punk/activist from Olympia who Rocked Against Reagan 20 years ago and never lost faith. Vail recalls pogo-ing in Olympia with safety-pinned teens sporting combat boots and Mohawks, slam-dancing against Reaganomics. "By becoming punks and joining together with other kids who didn't want to fit into mainstream America," she remembers, "we were protesting the government and questioning society." (Since teens stopped "pogo-ing" before I was "walk-ing," I can't relate to protesting Ronald Reagan, but since I don't want to join today's Abercrombie clones, I get where Vail is going with this.)

Seeing a connection between the trickle-down Reaganomics of the early '80s and today's Bush tax cuts, Vail, 34, is now co-organizing a massive punk show and protest in over 20 cities across the country, including Seattle, Olympia, and D.C. (plus Dublin, London, and Paris). The Bush-bashing is scheduled for October 11. In a scant four months, the BAB theme has grown out of Vail's nostalgia to spawn more than 20 chapters-including three in Washington State. More than 35 bands are standing "in solidarity," including local punk favorites Shoplifting (Chris' band), Mea Culpa, and the Gossip. BAB Olympia (featuring Al Larsen and C Average) is already slated to take over the capitol campus with bands and workshops. Seattle doesn't have its bands or venues slated yet.

BAB wants to get kids who are already interested in music to get interested in politics--or, as BAB puts it, "to politicize existing underground music/culture/art scenes and to bridge the gap between those scenes and the activist communities that are organizing the current protests...worldwide." BAB wants to involve as many music styles as possible in its idealistic effort. (With the exception of some self-conscious "outreach" by the likes of the Clash and Minor Threat in the early '80s, the anti-Reagan punk scene was pretty damn white.) Thus, there is a conscious effort to recruit hiphop groups--but despite Olympia's impressive rock lineup, none are signed up yet.

Someone at the meeting pointed out that minorities would be interested in joining the cause because Bush's policies are creating ill will in minority communities. And I'm sure that, had any blacks (besides me) or Latinos been at the meeting, they would have asked why the fliers, which had been plastered across Capitol Hill, were hardly in evidence at spots like 23rd and Jackson, or Rainier and MLK. Someone did propose a "diversity mandate"--essentially, a requirement that BAB have sufficient ethnic representation at all meetings and events. Thankfully, this embarrassing edict--it seemed hollow and cloyingly politically correct--was tossed out.

Another PC thing that was pretty cloying at the August 4 meeting was the emphasis on consensus. In that infinitely frustrating decision-making process, everyone must agree with every action. If someone dissents then nothing gets done. But if everyone in your group is predisposed to agree, then aren't you just preaching to the choir?