by JOHNSON CUMMINS

Have you checked out the dancing at all-ages hardcore shows? Admittedly, I try toavoid all-ages shows as I tend to feel like a NAMBLA member at these events, but bands like Dillinger Escape Plan and more recently High on Fire, Clutch and Lamb of God all possess the power to drag my withered carcass away from my usual smoky, booze-ridden environs.

The first thing you will notice at an all-ages hardcore show is the pack of assclowns and pre-pube punkers in front of the stage, laying down some of the worst dancing ever. I myself was unfortunately born with two left feet and couldn't cut a rug if my life depended on it, and if you give me a fifth of mescal and a Rufus Thomas record I can prove it, but this is easily one of the lamest things I have ever witnessed.

These usually overweight troglodytes (most likely nicknamed Lumpy) are found wrestling with the newfound testosterone coursing through their veins, dancing to the "intensity" of the hardcore music by flailing their arms in a windmill fashion or horizontally, dishing out spinning windmill kicks, with heads hunkered down for their "I'm really into these lyrics about unity in the scene and how ‘committed for life' the singer is" two-step. My personal favourite addition to this is the super-intense "pretending to punch the floor" dance. I swear to God, I am not making this up.

Now, I'm not saying they should all be doing the Mashed Potato for every Victory label band that happens to swing through town, but the question remains: do they hate the air so much they want to bash the daylights out of it? "Madball is so intense, I'm going to open a can of whupass on some motherfucking air!"

Again, I am not getting all Ward Cleaver on this shit, demanding a ban because of simulated violence (is that a Footloose sequel I'm smelling?) or whatever, because no one ever seems to get hit. In fact, if some emo kids with teddy-bear backpacks got a broken nose every now and again, I might actually applaud. It's just that it looks so fuggin' lame, I just keel over from the queasies when I see such a demented ballet unfold.

On the other hand, a coalition has been formed to drive this scourge from the face of dance. If you go to www.myspace.com/stophardcoredancing, you can join up and help rid the pit of scissorkicks for good. For all the young "hard-as-fucking-core" jock kids shaking in their Nikes as the coalition gains ground, better get your punching the floor in while you can, because there is another silent enemy that may number your hardcore dancing days. It's called sex.

As far as the embarrassment that comes with mixing too much mescal with your Rufus Thomas, there unfortunately is no cure.

WHO'S WORSE? DAVE NAVARRO OR THE THREE CHEFS FROM THE POM BREAD COMMERCIAL? jonathan.cummins@gmail.com

>> Music Listings