By KELEFA SANNEH
Why was last year's Warped Tour so dispiriting? Because the bands were so competent, playing a streamlined form of punk rock built on solid tunes and fast tempos. They gave the kids exactly what they wanted and nothing more.
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But the lineup showed how much this world has changed over the past 12 months. Last year's dull competence was replaced by an exciting confusion, a sense that for neither the first nor the last time musicians and fans were trying to figure out exactly what punk rock meant.
This change has a lot to do with the ascendance of emo, the sentimental subgenre that has taken over mainstream punk rock. (And no, "mainstream punk rock," is no longer a contradiction in terms.) These bands shared a sensibility but not a sound, and they found a wide range of ways to express it, from crooning to screaming, from strumming to bashing.
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As always, plenty of other attractions competed for the fans' attention: skateboard demonstrations, a hip-hop tent, T-shirt vendors, chances to meet the bands.
But some of the most popular diversions were the most low-concept. An impromptu mud-wrestling match, in front of a spectacularly splattered Mister Softee truck, drew spectators all afternoon.
A crowd formed around some menacing-looking fellows in combat boots who were torturing young music fans with a pole. But it's not what you think: the men were marines, and believe it or not, punks were standing in line for the opportunity to do chin-ups.
A military recruiting station might once have seemed like the antithesis of punk rock, but these days punk isn't really a rallying cry for the antisocial, it's a hobby for high-energy teenagers. And the marines offered these kids more or less the same thing that the histrionic emo bands did: a chance to blow off steam.