practicing its independent philosophy before
“Internet” was even part of our vocabulary.
By remaining true to its standards, Fugazi is,
without question, in a league by itself. Champi-
ons of free speech, free thought, the homeless,
minorities, AIDS research, and the elderly, the group rejects
violence, racism, homophobia, war, alcohol, drugs, and slam
dancing. Not only does it charge a mere $5 for its cathartic
live performances, many of which are benefit shows, it man-
aged to price its albums at only $8 until 1997, when for
End
Hits
it raised the price to $10.
How is all of this possible? It helps that Fugazi’s founder
and leader, Ian MacKaye, also co-founded Dischord Records,
the now legendary Washington, D.C., punk label. MacKaye is
one of the last active members of the original D.C. “strait-
edge” (read: no drugs or alcohol) hardcore scene of the early
Eighties. By setting up networks of fans, print rags, and home-
grown record labels across the country, the D.C. scene thrived
without the help of the record industry. Among the D.C. bands
that took things into their own hands were MacKaye’s Teen
Idles and Minor Threat, both of which expressed their rage
and frustration at the Reagan era through one-minute punk
blasts. In 1987, MacKaye formed Fugazi with cohorts Guy Pic-
ciotto on guitar and vocals, Joe Lally on bass, and Brendan
Canty on drums and bells; MacKaye named the band Fugazi
after coming across the word in a dictionary that defined it as
a messed-up situation in Vietnam. Fugazi has released six full-
length albums, and a few EPs, and now the group has made its
first ever home video,
Instrument
, which started out as a pri-
vate documentary and evolved, 12 years later, into a visual
history for the public.
The spirit of the film is pure Fugazi. Most of
Instrument
was shot using Super 8 and 16mm film (the director’s prefer-
ence), with more recent footage captured on video.
Videophiles may turn their noses up at the hardly high-tech
formats, but expensive professional filming would be out of
place for a band like this; the director notes that the two-hour
Instrument
cost less to make than most three-minute videos
on MTV. And just like recent engrossing, low-budget indepen-
dent films (
Gods and Monsters
,
C o o k i e ’s Fortune
) that
oppose the omnipresent cross-corporate digital monstrosities
(
G o d z i l l a
,
A r m a g e d d o n )
,
Instrument
is better than the
majority of the “here today, gone tomorrow” videos flooding
the market.
Instrument
is about a band, its fans, music, and
mission; there’s no place for premeditated hype and sensa-
tionalism.
With scenes shown in non-chronological order,
Instru -
ment
gives us a seething mix of images. MacKaye erupts into
the microphone like a shark expanding its jaws before it
devours its prey; Picciotto plows his right hand into the gui-
tar’s scuffed body as if he were punching a hole through a
plaster wall; Lally plugs his bass as he staunchly stands like a
marine waiting for his superior officer to inspect him; and
Canty whacks the old-fashioned school bell that shares space
with the cymbals on his drum set, as if he were speaking to
the band in Morse code. A haze of distorted melody fills the
stage, drum beats resonate, and the resulting sound is perfect
– so natural that it seems to be unamplified. Meanwhile, as we
watch the video, we are up on stage with the band, close
enough to see that MacKaye’s worn black canvas loafers are
indeed without a brand name.
With interviews, recording sessions, and performance
footage,
Instrument
proves that like The Grateful Dead,
Fugazi functions as a “group mind,” able to improvise and to
stretch songs into long, cohesive jams without a predeter-
mined scheme. Other artists, such as Elvis, performed with-
out a set list, but they called out the names of songs they were
about to sing, to cue their bands. Nobody in Fugazi does this.
Rather, in order to segue from one song to another, Fugazi
relies on instrumental cues, hand signals, tempo shifts,
glances, and nonverbal follow-the-leader communication (the
leader being whoever first initiates the beginning of the next
song). To triumphantly pull this jazz-like feat
off, the band relinquishes any selfishness in the
name of a one-for-all mentality. Fugazi has stat-
ed that music will become powerless if it isn’t
unsettling, and a force for political change. The
record industry and all serious new artists of
today should take heed – Fugazi is in it for life
and wants long-term change. Its work isn’t fin-
ished just because it plays one benefit show; it
seems to recognize that social change doesn’t
happen so simply. This band may never change
the world, but what matters is that it will never
give up.
Of course, in order for a group to thrive in
such an alternative universe, it needs a two-way
relationship with its fans, one that is based part-
ly on trust, but more on respect. Fugazi has a
cardinal rule of thumb when it plays live: It
wants an audience of whole human beings, not
simple idlers or consumers. That’s why it plays
with such unnerving energy. While it’s true that
such an audience does not always exist,
F u g a z i ’s anti-marketing stance, low prices,
word-of-mouth promotion, and broad-minded
concert rules all help eliminate the coattail rid-
ers and drunks commonly found at the average
