Still gothic after all these years
Part 5
by Ellen Barry, photos by Dana Smith
Among the ideological splits that have arisen within goth in recent years are
disagreements on such issues as the coolness of the Internet, the appeal of
vampires, and -- notably -- the centrality of pain, as typified by the debate
between "mopeygoths" and "perkygoths." These days, the modern goth has a
well-developed sense of irony about the prototypical suffering goth: dancing
alone with a rose, considering his mortality. In Boston, at least, overt
suffering is out of fashion. Sara Arnold, who at 17 is one of the youngest
full-fledged members of the community, says "more than anything, it's
lighthearted." Rachel Pollock, who is known professionally as DJ Lady Bathory
and will soon be appearing at Ceremony and Hell, doesn't have one good thing to
say about the pain crowd.
For the gloomy kind of goth, she writes in an e-mail interview, "moving within
the subculture was symptomatic of their angst, and once they [weren't] feeling
gloomy anymore, they didn't want to subscribe to a dark aesthetic anymore
either. Unfortunately, I think it is all too often these woebegone
wrist-to-forehead types that pimp themselves to the press and proclaim nonsense
like `Goth is about my inner tragedy.' "
Moreover, adds Shannon Davis, long-term angst takes a lot out of you: "If
you're into it for a long time, you just can't maintain that level of
unhappiness."
But there are others who still feel that anguish is essential to the goth
experience. "I don't advocate that goths be depressed every day of the week,
but I do find the lack of angst a bit . . . um . . . odd,"
groused one in a posting on alt.gothic. "I mean, this is the gothic newsgroup,
no? Ian Curtis DID kill himself, no?" Another defender of pain is "Scary" Gary
Franklin, 34, a Portland, Oregon, man who founded the National Goth Singles
Network in an effort to build a community for small-town goths. Call a 1-900
number, and you can hook up with lonesome goths like Amadeo, from central
Texas, who describes himself as "6 foot, 180 pounds, very dark eyes and long,
black curled locks like beautiful spirals of shadow, with light-colored flesh
. . . and a devilish black goatee."
When Scary Gary thinks of a goth, he thinks of pain: "Pain seems to go
hand-in-hand with what constitutes goth. If you want to make a very broad
generalization, your average punk is very angry inside, whereas your average
goth is very sad."
Scary Gary thinks of himself as a humanitarian, but mention his name and many
Boston goths will respond with a flood of vitriolic accusations: that he's
cashing in on the scene; that to him, anguish is no more than a market; that
he's a poseur. On top of a natural goth aversion to promoters is a sense that
he's misrepresenting the community. "Everybody, everybody hates that guy," says
Cusráque. For his part, Scary Gary has become the tiniest bit
defensive.
"That guy at Man Ray is surrounded by other goths. You don't know how much
flak I've been getting for it from people that live in big cities," says Scary
Gary, who grew up goth in a small coastal logging village in Oregon. "For the
goth in a small town, the only connection is through the Internet. He goes
outside and he gets beat up by a bunch of ranch hands. And I vowed that if I
ever got a little money, I would do something to help him.
"People that live in the big cities have a zillion clubs to go to. The pain
and the angst that they supposedly feel inside pales in comparison with the
people who live in small towns."
It's not hard to see -- in the intergenerational, close-knit Boston community
-- why Scary Gary's argument falls flat. They're happy. The new, well-adjusted
goth philosophy allows people to age within the community, and quite a number
of them do.
"The younger kids want attention," says Tony Lee, who as DJ Arcanus helped
found Ceremony, and who now works at Hexx. "For people who have been around, or
been part of the scene, that's just them. This is the way I look. Don't pick on
me. We're just saying, Leave me alone. Please don't ostracize me."
Ellen Barry can be reached at ebarry[a]phx.com.