by Hugo Reyes (@hvreyes5)
Twenty minutes and nine songs. That’s all the Swing Kids needed to attain their cult status in the hardcore scene of the 90’s. Now with Anthology, that measly number is now eleven, adding two songs from their reunion seven inch in 2010. In the intervening 26 years since they released their debut EP, the world of hardcore has changed tremendously. When they formed in 1994, screamo had yet to even be its own subgenre.
Bands like Saetia and Heroin were just another band on the hardcore bill, even if they were looked down upon. In a little bit over a decade, this new outgrowth of punk had built up an established cannon. With an established cannon, comes copy cats and recreation, instead of reinvention. Justin Pearson, the singer of Swing Kids, describes being surrounded by “jock hardcore” at the time. These were bands that essentially existed for dudes to mosh to. While “mosh bands” have their place, being surrounded by them can feel alienating, as if you’re not allowed into the club unless you make this specific kind of music.
This is where Swing Kids comes about, as a response to the drab hardcore that was ever present. This wasn’t music you could dance to. If you tried, it would just look like a person high on caffeine, shaking and convulsing with no discernible rhythm. It trafficked outside of the predictable 4/4 rhythm. This was hardcore’s version of jazz music— frenetic and frenzied, with no care to what came before. “Disease,” the opening track on their self titled EP, starts out with a piano and frantic drum fill, sounding more at home on a Miles Davis record than a hardcore one. Then there’s the on the nose closer of “Blue Note,” a similarly meandering track, that rises and falls with Pearson’s vocals.
The closing note on the band was unfortunately written in 1998, when guitarist Eric Allen took his own life. It was only one year after Swing Kids broke up. At least through nine songs, Allen made an indelible impact on the hardcore community. Refused would take the concept of hardcore’s jazz music to make Shape of Punk To Come, the inescapable classic. Orchid would go on to even make more spastic and shrill guitar tones in the following years.
“El Camino Car Crash,” the last song the band recorded would be a peek into this future, hinting at where the genre would go. The guitar and vocals are in an intense game of tug and pull from the start, responding to each other in a game of one upmanship. That tension is only relieved once the song fades out. It’s as close to a fitting end as the band would get, going out in a haze of screams instead of a respectful bow.