Boston UnsceneBut amidst the despair for the death of true indies and the DIY ethic in Boston, the diversity of scenes and their sounds may well prove to be the key to preserving the zones of the underground. "It's real hard to define a single sound for Boston, I think it's one of the good things," suggests Bill Peregoy, who runs an independent record label in addition to his day job. "It hasn't been beaten on by the press, it's not that somebody picked up and decided this is the Boston sound, and the A & R people converge on the city and everybody tries to sound like that because they think that's what you have to be to be successful."
Barring all media infiltration nightmares, Boston's noisy subcultures thrive. A glance past the open doorway of offices, cafes, lounges and dorms across town each Thursday reveals shoulders hunched over the weekly Phoenix, eager eyes scoping out the latest club listings. A fretless foray into a smoky venue will reveal a crowd of people invested in the moment, foraging for new audio, pushing new ways to be underground from the finite set of possible chords. A local label's motto: "Noisy boys and girls prefer Sonic Bubblegum," successfully conveys one direction. Following seminal noisy steps of punk and hardcore, a loud scene of bands like Spore, Dambuilders, Queer, SK-70, Kudgel, Tulips has emerged.
Many "loud" bands carry a distinctive gender balance, men and women playing together in bands generating a new genre of noise and perpetuating a sexual politic that hasn't been tagged yet. Reviews of these bands describe a dichotomy between female voices trying to "gain control of this bludgeoning machine, " says Mike Hibarger, also a member of the Tulips. "What [these reviews] are saying is, 'Oh, I dunno if I can handle this loud grunge hard rock noise thing with girls singing. I dunno if I can handle that yet. I can handle all girl groups, ooh, aren't they cute.'" If it's not chickcore, riot grrrl or complacent doll pop, then it approaches something dangerously close to bands and women performers actually distinguished not by gender but by the hooks and contours of their songs.