ALTERNA-PORN

the other girl next door by MEREDITH TURITS ALTERNA-PORN: A TATTOOED PORTRAIT OF THE TABOO

There’s a possibility that what you’re about to read may make you hot. And frankly, that’s okay. In a society that’s wrought with an administration looking to cause a throwback to regimentation and chastity belts, censorship, in many ways, deserves a breath of fresh air. It seems as though we’re constantly spiraling into the taboo, with sexuality and identity as the sacrifices at the helm. But there’s always that beat below the surface that looks to cause a little dissonance and push the limit. Meet the new images of the underground.

There’s a possibility she still stands tall, like the images you’re used to, hovering near 5’10”. Long, lean, flawless skin. But this girl is different. Her hair, black and pink, is chopped in different directions. She has images of sparrows on her hips, a trail of nautical stars extending down from her navel, and a perfectly anatomical heart blazing in bright color across her entire sternum. There’s a 16-gauge horseshoe hanging down from her septum and her ear lobes are stretched to the diameter of a prescription bottle. And every day, thousands of people ditch the pictures of the runway girls to watch her illuminate a set of photographs in which she poses with a shed full of dirty tools and empty paint cans. She, like hundreds – no, thousands – of girls, is the face of alterna-porn, a sub-culture of websites and live burlesque shows looking to put a new twist on conventional standards of beauty. Though they’ve been stakeholders for a while – classically, pin-up style in the 40s and 50s and, more recently, with sites like superpower Suicide Girls, which launched in 2001 – the breadth of their influence has evolved in the last few years.

The investigations into whether or not pin-up truly does redefine conventions of beauty is a fairly tired discussion at this point. Perhaps it’s trite and belabored, but beauty really does seem to be in the eye of the beholder. Whether looking at tattooed punk rock girls walking down the street or the epitome of the Hollywood starlet walking down a red carpet,

one is going to be relatively cognizant of his or her own perception of attractiveness.

What’s far more engaging is the sociocultural aspect of standards of beauty, particularly stereotypes perpetuated by the pornography industry. Let me preface this by saying that in no way am I a porn connoisseur, nor am I in the industry as a model or someone who works from the inside. Rather, the stake I hold is far more common, and just as important: I am a consumer. My perspective comes as someone who loves taking time to browse the photosets up on SuicideGirls or Supercult, and indulge in the play worlds of these girls who I find to be captivating. Yet, though I hold the alterna-porn models up on a sort of pedestal, I still find myself being incredibly judgmental towards models in the mainstream porn industry. I’ll freely admit I pin them with unfair negative stereotypes and consider them “dirty” or “classless,” despite the fact that they’re doing the same job in a different skin. But the question is “Why?” Perhaps the answer is simple. Maybe as a woman who is much more inclined to identify with a punk rock aesthetic, I won’t jump to judge the girls who look similar to me because of my own fear of being judged. But that seems to only tackle one part of the puzzle. Simply because I don’t contextualize myself with the media-perpetuated ideal of beauty doesn’t mean I can’t recognize an attractive face or a beautiful body when I see it. So why, then, am I still so quick to judge?

My personal biases seem to trace back to presentation. The more I think about the places in which I’ve encountered mainstream porn and the way it’s packaged and sold to consumers, the more I feel smothered by an in-your-face type of sexuality that’s about getting the job done. We rouse images of cheesy porn soundtracks and fabricated dialogues play

ing at volume 11 in frat house basements. The associations undoubtedly make me shiver; this is not something in which I would voluntarily engage myself.

Then there’s the notion of accessibility. Mainstream pornography is nearly everywhere; from newsstands in Grand Central Station to Google Sponsored Links, the industry is easily commodified. As a result, it heightens a consumer’s tendency to objectify. It’s almost too easy to imagine that Amber Jaye Snowflake doesn’t have a life outside of her starring roles, and that the facets of her personality are demonstrated best from her three main interests: top, bottom, and on her knees. Yep, there’s Captain Judgmental coming out in full-force again.

Bottom line? To me, there seem to be few prerequisites and fewer risks associated with mainstream porn as long as you fit the part: be long,  : MAINSTREAM PORNOGRAPHY IS NEARLY EVERYWHERE; FROM NEWSSTANDS IN GRAND CENTRAL STATION TO GOOGLE SPONSORED LINKS, THE INDUSTRY IS EASILY COMMODIFIED.

communities that takes away from the commodification of the women. And, less commodification often means less misogyny. That notion, hand in hand with all of the other politically-charged messages that creep into photosets – things like animal rights and feminism, often launched by the models’ personal perspectives – gives the industry a second purpose. It is, if you’ll go for the idea, more socially responsible pornography. Sugarcoated messages aside, when it comes down to it, porn is porn. Both the alternative and mainstream sides of the industry are just that – an industry looking to serve a purpose (one that is, in this case, sexually charged) for a specific niche of people. People understand the aesthetic to which they are drawn, and seek out satisfaction accordingly.

“I don’t really think the porn world shapes people’s perceptions much at all. I think the perceptions that have already been shaped in someone by the outside world are then sought out in porn,” an ex-Burning Angel model told me via e-mail.

Regardless of what we’re seeking, it’s more about looking at the way we consume and how we allow sociocultural stereotypes to shape our perceptions. Maybe we’re not directly affected by the porn industry, but we can’t deny we all have our own opinions, however fair they may or may not be. And, c’mon, admit it: it totally gets your blood flowing to all the right places, doesn’t it?

I won’t tell. I promise. 

lean, and...er...limber. And assuming the political mentality of the nation doesn’t reset to 1802, there will always be a market and forum for the distribution of mainstream porn, however creepy it may be.

And, of course, then there are the alterna-porn girls. I am initially inclined to contextualize these girls in a completely different way, and I attribute it to the entire subculture surrounding the alternative side of the industry.

First, it seems as though the girls have to have a level of confidence somewhat unique because of all of the risks associated with looking outside of the norm, as well as posing sans trousers. The fact that they may not be accepted because they don’t fit conventional standards of beauty is incredibly pertinent, and, in many ways, it seems like it would take a certain personality to brave the waters.

Next, the more covert presence of alterna-porn manifests itself in a very different way than mainstream porn; for the most part, the images are more like playful pin-ups than videos of blatant races to climax. Sure, sites like Burning Angel contain plenty such media, but for the most part, the prevalence is pin-up. And pin-up is, often times, as much about the expressive, artistic side of the photograph as it is about the human form. Pin-up has the personality that mainstream porn and spread-eagle shots in adult magazines kill dead.

But the more I think about it, the icing on the cake is really the community aspect of it all. Wait, what? A community of porn enthusiasts infusing legitimacy into an “illicit” industry? Yep. Most of the alternaporn sites are member-only sites in which the models have profiles and blogs that turn them into humans and reject their degraded status as merely sex toys. When a girl poses with a digital SLR camera in one of her photosets, you can read about the fact that she is indeed a professional photographer, see her portfolio and interact with her on a personal level. There’s a distinct type of intimacy relayed by these alterna-porn

; Meredith Turits is a sophomore who, majoring in something resembling Philosophy, has begun mastering the fine art of panhandling. She is pleased that this issue of Melisma has only reduced her nightly sleep by three hours and that Viva La Vinyl has only made fun of her four times this week. Her next endeavor is trying to survive living in Williamsburg without acquiring a medium format camera or a septum ring. Yeah, right.

above the influence by EMILY PISTELL ...OF INDIE ROCK?

FEMALE VOICE: (Computer voice) Being popular was all I could think about last year. I wanted to, like, be cool with everybody. I listened to music that I didn’t like and laughed at stuff that wasn’t funny. I programmed myself to be a totally different person to everyone.

Computer voice starts to change into a real human voice.

FEMALE VOICE: But I wasn’t myself. Now I’m not pretending to like indie rock or anything like that. And people think that’s cool.

MALE VOICE: Live above the influence. Above weed.

; Emily Pistell is a freshman who will eventually make a decision about the direction of her life, but can’t make any promises. She is fond of Wikipedia adventures, taken with diner food and completely enamored with all things miniature. She has yet to finish the pile of Post-Its she bought this year, but certainly not for a lack of effort. I first heard this public service announcement on the radio in January 2007, after my iPod full of indie rock had just run out of batteries. My friends and I looked at each other incredulously: did the Office of National Drug Control Policy just link indie rock music with smoking marijuana? Across the country, independent music listeners are asking the same question and coming up with an affirmative, and offensive, answer.

I struggled to understand what the message was. The first impression I got from the ad was an incredibly premature link of marijuana use and independent music taste. To my indie-tuned ears, I found the government telling me that no one could like the music I adore unless they were stoned. I found myself frustrated with a federal office I would generally ignore, and displaced enough to want to set the record straight.

In reality, the ONDCP was sending the message to all the vulnerable tweens and teens out there that you don’t have to fit in with the popular crowd. The suggestion is not novel; our protective parents and eager guidance counselors have been drilling that comforting statement to us for over a decade. Yet, the ad is so bizarre because now, the cool kid to emulate is the indie rock stoner. It paints a picture of a lanky, bearded, watery-eyed American youth; a country where the kids who sit alone at lunch no longer pine to be a jock or a cheerleader, but rather long to spark up a joint on the corner and listen to The Magnetic Fields.

It is not a complete mystery where this fallacy has come from; as the O.C. soundtrack adopted more and more independent bands, artists like Band of Horses are unexpectedly thrown into the high school spotlight. With their inevitable detachment from American youth, older generations automatically assume all kids love shows like O.C. and movies of the Garden State variety, and thusly are susceptible to the strange, offbeat music that wallpapers Ryan’s angsty love scenes. And so, indie rock becomes the “in” music to listen to, the irony of all ironies.

The ad defines indie rock fans as a clique, one that listens to seemingly incomprehensible music and blazes daily. Don’t get blind-sided by their pretensions, the ad warns vulnerable youths, and have confidence in your own uniqueness. But what these antiquated advertisers don’t understand is that that is what independent music is about: it is a lifestyle, and one that we adopt not because the music is oblique. Independent labels simply allow for freer musical expression. Before pigeonholing indie rock fans as stoners, the Office of Drug Control should realize why we are truly supportive of non-commercial artists. We listen because we can recognize the quality and creativity of the bands that don’t have to

answer to commercial interests. We appreciate the under-appreciated because we can find the subtle beauty in the abrasive vocals or exploratory guitars. And we don’t need to be stoned to love the albums we support most.

There will always be those with weak convictions who will follow the popular crowd without fail. There will forever be teenagers who smoke weed to look cool or listen to indie rock to feel “alternative.” But the mass generalization of a musical genre and the equation with marijuana is a sordid excuse for a dynamic advertisement. And ironically enough, the girl-robot’s message is being broadcast on radio, a medium that independent music listeners have strayed from for years. The ad fails to inspire individuality in the lost teenagers of today, and merely leaves indie music fans to wonder what has come of their cherished medium of expression.   : DID THE OFFICE OF NATIONAL DRUG CONTROL POLICY JUST LINK INDIE ROCK MUSIC WITH SMOKING MARIJUANA? 24

from the ashes rise by ERIK DOUGHTY THE REMAINS OF BLINK-182 DUKE IT OUT

“I wasn’t really masturbating. I’ve never done that. I was inspecting my testicles for weird bumps.”

Oh, the good ol’ days of toilet humor, eighth grade drama and Blink-182. For many college students, including myself, Blink-182 was the training wheels into rock and roll: an insignia of adolescence. Or, if you’re a musician, “Dammit” may well have been the first song you played while learning guitar. The rockers, pop princesses, Jock Jams fans, hip-hoppers and even the indie elitists can recall that brilliantly disturbing image of Mark, Tom and Travis mocking boy bands and Britney Spears in their video for “All The Small Things.” Although most people will never again search Blink-182 in their iTunes library or dust off their Dude Ranch CD case, the band will remain a hallmark of the innocent past.

It was only after Blink-182 broke up this past year that I began to feel old. Too old. Internships, the stock market, organic chemistry and resume building all seemed so safely far into the future until even the invincible Mark, Tom, and Travis couldn’t escape the inevitability of growing up. However, from old ashes raise new structures; with the demise of Blink-182 came the inception of Angels & Airwaves and +44.

Angels & Airwaves, former Blink-182 guitarist/vocalist Tom DeLonge’s latest project, is characterized by angelic instrumentals with expressive, sentimental lyrics. It’s a larger-than-life undertaking that even has plans to film a movie based on the band’s music. Before any of the tracks had even been recorded, Tom DeLonge claimed that the Angels & Airwaves album would be “the greatest rock and roll revolution” and consistently used the word “epic” to describe the music.

I’ll admit, labeling the album “the greatest rock and roll revolution” did whet my appetite with the possibility of witnessing pop culture’s own Greek tragedy. Yet, keeping with tradition, DeLonge’s tragic flaw of hubris was unearthed with the unveiling of Angels and Airwaves’ debut album. Instrumentally, the album is unrecognizable from anything of the Blink-era. The structure of the songs and the pleasant melodies mixed with unconventional effects create a unique and truly “angelic” anthemlike sound. However, the songs tend to blur together as each track is structured very similarly with superfluous, minute long introductions. After sifting through the layers of effects and striking dynamics you’ll find that DeLonge’s vocals, melodies and even the lyrics have hardly changed at all. His nasal tone and mundane lyrical themes do not compel the same emotional arousal as the music itself. Despite a few stellar tracks such as “Valkyrie Missile” and “The Adventure,” the album falls short. Somewhere between DeLonge’s epiphanies, filmmaking endeavors and attempts at a revolution, the music itself has been lost in translation and fans have been left with an album that still feels unfinished.

+44, featuring ex-Blink bassist/vocalist Mark Hoppus and percussion virtuoso Travis Barker, recently debuted with a melancholy, somber prog-punk rock album. Despite the improved musicality and lyrical value, the album itself is sub-par, devoid of catchiness. Hoppus is only fair as the lead vocalist as his voice fails to bring the songs home and sustain the high energy level conveyed by the music. However, “Make You Smile” is an outstanding song and Barker’s drum tactics are mind blowing, as always. “No, It Isn’t” is one of the few tracks that retains that true punk rock arrangement that listeners still love. Unlike Angels & Airwaves, +44 is an album of simpler, more genuinely-toned songs. For this reason I am partial to +44, even though the music itself still seems almost uninspired. Despite Hoppus’ exceptional song writing capabilities, the album lacks replay value and it seems as though the band, in trying too hard to differentiate itself from past projects, has produced an LP without direction or foundation.

The debut albums of both Angels & Airwaves and +44 disclose many of the secrets to Blink-182‘s unparalleled success. DeLonge and Hoppus are unable to assume the roles as front men for their new works, as their vocal potential is limited. However, when acting as a pair in Blink-182, they compensated for one another and the contrast of their two voices actually set them apart from similar acts. The creatively-lacking, but honestly-simple lyrics of both Angels & Airwaves and +44 do not blend with the two bands’ new music, whereas when fueled by the fun, jumpy, charismatic energy of Blink-182, the lyrics and music went hand-andhand. Those three dudes in their mid-twenties telling perverted jokes and singing about boobs and blowjobs had their own sound. It wasn’t progressive. It wasn’t digital, angelic or electronic. But it belonged distinctly to them.

Every band meets its end and Blink-182 is no exception - nor should it be. Even the trials of Angels & Airwaves and +44 are not total failures. Both new bands have already developed strong fan bases, sold millions of records and are seemingly proud of their music (in some cases, too proud). With these albums however, I get the feeling that both bands are aiming at sentimentality and emotional connection. Ironically, despite the straightforwardness and immaturity of many of the Blink-182 songs, those tunes were the ones that owned the prized sentimentality because of what they meant to many fans, music lovers and kids who wanted to be able to stand in front of thousands of people and tell those same ridiculous jokes – and get away with it. Blink’s music made growing up seem not so much like growing up and even today their music brings me back to a simpler time. From a musician’s standpoint, both Angels & Airwaves and +44 have emerged more creative, complex and ambitious after the breakup. On the other hand, as a listener, it’s hard not to admit that both bands were unable to find that near perfect harmony and chemistry that made Blink-182 a shoebox treasure for all of those kids who listened to them through an awkward period of voice-cracking, conformity and instant messaging courtship. 

; Erik Doughty is a freshman planning to major in Journalism or Political Science. His love for music began with Coolio’s hit single, “Gangsta’s Paradise.” Sadly, Erik really knows nothing about himself and hence, neither shall you.