If veteran Gainesville, Florida, band Hot Water Music is considered punk, then perhaps nothing is punk.
In this stage of late capitalism and post-post-post-modern 21st-century rock, it may be pointless to even ask. We old people all realize our musical tribes have basically been absorbed by the monoculture of social media and the blurred boundaries of genre-mushing that pop stars mine like the worst kind of plundering colonists—or selfie-seeking tourists. Our musical touchstones and visual cues are mere shades of meaning from times long past. To quote the character Mark Corrigan from the brilliant British program “Peep Show”: “That’s the way things are these days. Let’s just put a zip here, a swastika there, why not? Who knows what these things once stood for? Who the hell even cares?”
That episode aired in 2007 and now it seems even more applicable. For here I am, trying to determine what makes Hot Water Music, a band nearly as old as I am, punk or post-hardcore or whatever people have called the band’s music over its career, realizing I should probably give it up and talk about its honest, emotive songwriting, “real-world” vision, and performing chops.
The group has been around since 1994, endured two breakups, and even grew from a quartet to a five-piece concern. Led by a three-headed vocalist/guitarist combo of Chuck Ragan, Chris Wollard, and Chris Cresswell, the band doesn’t leave much room for fun. That’s my biggest criticism. I know there’s a cathartic element meant to help their suffering listeners, as every song is about feelings. Deep ones.
With 30 years behind it, Hot Water Music is attempting to celebrate the milestone on this tour. Last year’s Vows is the group’s most recent full-length release, which stands to get some coverage along with the band’s deep catalog of gruff vocal-and-gripe-infused albums.
Getting back to the initial question, I can safely say Hot Water Music touches on punk. The band goes fast sometimes. It has distorted guitars. But so do many, many other regular rock bands without its pedigree of influence. There’s nothing ugly about these upbeat explorations of relationship difficulties and the brutalities of life—but let’s all admit that it’s matured for people with jobs, kids, and houses.
Photo: Jesse Korman
