Skanking

Maybe the answer to adversity, whether it's biological (like Cancer) or political (communist or fascist), is just to dance. Or make rock music. Or ska. Or Gospel.

Resistance is a joyful sound. Resistance is absurd. Joyfulness is our last line of defence.

Music for Cancer’s second night (2025-09-12) featured a ska lineup. Some highlights:

A lot of the crowd was my age or older. There were a lot of younger kids too, but many if not most of the young kids were there with their families. Parents put their kids on their shoulders wearing their protective earmuffs. 

That’s not to say it was a family looking crowd by any more conservative standard. Most people had tatooos, piercings, beards (mostly the men) and mohawks. People consumed a lot of beer, and there was smoking and weed. But what looked like a crowd of adults from rough living, turned out to be just old punk rockers (thank God they're still out there!). It was a joyful mob who would knock you down in the mosh pit, right before helping you back up and take you to the infirmary, stage right. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

One little girl in particular, her hair in frizzy little buns behind her earmuffs, rode her dad’s shoulders the entire time, a gigantic smile on her face as he stood in the middle of the mosh pit, looking down on chaos all around her. He was stocky and so was she, immovable. She would catch beachballs, people gave her high-fives, and generally the old punk rockers would protect her and her dad when the pit got too rowdy, not that there was any need. He was solid. 

The smaller band was almost more fun. Ska Sound System played the in-between sets on a  smaller stage, and in that pit people were skanking, dancing, and joyfully having a good time with slightly less violence. 

Next was Planet Smashers, followed by the Interrupters. While I really enjoyed the Interrupters, the Planet Smashers were somehow more fun. They obviously know this crowd well, and since they’re from Montreal they speak French, which makes for a really special connection with fans here. When they played there was a familiarity and small-town friendliness to their set which comes from, I guess, being older and more experienced, and from being unpolished but still really good.

That's not to say that the Interrupters didn't have a special connection, too: the lead guitarist seems to be the one who talks to the crowd, he told how they played Rockfest in Montebello before even their first album came out. They were brought in to cover for another band who bowed out. After the show they roamed the street with Tim from Rancid, and played acoustic songs to the crowds. Happenstance happened, and they played in front of the Music for Cancer booth, so it was meant to be that ten years later they would be here. According to Kevin Bivona, lead guitarist. They were more polished, a little more L.A., lots of fun but at that point I finally had to bow out of the mosh pit, since it was a different crowd and a bit more violent. I got knocked down a couple times. Both times people helped me up, of course, but the Interrupters were more fun to just watch. I enjoyed the show from the sides at that point.

Compare that to The Planet Smashers, on the other hand, had a great pit, sometimes violent, sometimes dancing, and in my opinion it was a perfect mix. That said, it was a slightly older crowd enjoying the Planet Smashers, but now that I’m 40+, these are MY people. I could just be getting old.

Between sets the emcee introduced us to Monique and Joanne (apologies if I get your names wrong, I wrote them down but there are no guarantees). Monique won’t be at the next Music for Cancer. She has stage four breast cancer. Right now she is rocking out. Joanne, too. On hearing this I suddenly felt my eyes well-up, and the whole talk put me in a reflective mood. How different this in-person sort of community is, when compared to the diet we're fed through our little screens. I had recently seen an online argument blow up to proportions I didn't know were possible, and this was just so purely opposite of that. People here were coming together in a natural way. There was no hiding behind a screen, it was unvarnished, dirty, and I crave more of it.

Begin reflection.

There are deep connections to be made to one’s soul, and healing the world starts when we come together. The joyful mob is so much better than the lynch mob. Punk rockers are so much more fun than ideologues of any sort. A violent mosh pit is so much better than any less useful form of violence. Joy is the antidote to anger. 

There were some awkward and weird-looking kids in the mosh pit who stayed there the whole time, dancing. One of the smallest was wearing a sort of goth kilt and had unusual glasses. His non-conformity made me smile. Towards the end of the concert I saw him coming towards me, supporting a 40-something woman who was obviously out of it (drunk, drugs or injury). As they stumbled, I reached out and grabbed her arm. I met the goth-kid’s eyes and he nodded his head towards the infirmary. I understood, nodded, fully took the woman’s arm, and we traversed the vast crowd all the way to the side of the stage, where the security and staff took the woman from us, presumably to care for her. As I turned to go, the kid held up both hands, we high-fived, the security guard gave us a thumbs-up.

It was a really small thing, seeing a young kid live out compassion, and connect without reservation to an old guy like me to bring someone in need to where they need to go. After my previous reflection on community I realized that we’re going to be ok–society, I mean. If the youth understand how to be joyful and compassionate, and they understand kindness, and they are able to come together in community, then our species will survive.

Anyway, that was the end of my reflection, I'm in the second half (presumably) of my life, now, based on average life expectancy, and I'm not worried about the youth and the world they'll create, if only they can remain joyful.

End reflection.

I turned to go enjoy the rest of the Interrupters in front of two old ladies who knew every word, and turns out so did I.