When I met Gavin, man, he was a terror. That scene was a safe haven for kids who didn’t just go there for fun, but instead because they lost very important things in their lives. Like love. There was a lot of kids who didn’t have families, had abusive families, learning disabilities. Some of us made it out, and survived those problems. Some didn’t and passed away, and rest in peace to the ones who didn’t make it. There was some deep shit. To see John Bloodclot at 45, doing what he is doing, knowing the shit he made it through, that is a testament to the fact that there is a spiritual life out there that anybody can find. And to know what Gavin had been through, you can apply that story to so many other kids in the city and the world.
And to think of it as just a part of humanitarianism, those kids needed a vessel. And that’s what I wanted to do, I wanted to be able to touch those kids, to get on stage at CBGB and be part of that vessel and touch people. I could touch them, and they could touch me. I could jump, and they would catch me. And that went for everyone. How fucking incredible is that? That trust… you are so safe that you can jump and people will catch you, they won’t let you fall. We didn’t have that fear of people not catching you in the hardcore scene, even if nobody else anywhere in your world would catch you. We could close our eyes, and fall blindly, and be caught. How fucking beautiful is that?
You can’t even do that shit in hip hop. I’m gonna keep it really real. But in hardcore, you could close your eyes, do a front flip off the fucking stage, and you could get caught. A few kids got hurt, and paralyzed, and fucked up. But most all of us were ok, and we kept doing it. Because we trusted each other. That’s something that most people on the outside looking in didn’t see. They saw crazy and violence. They didn’t see the honor amongst us. They didn’t see the battle, and how we didn’t let our men get hurt. We all had that shit for each other. I couldn’t articulate it then, but I can now.