Punk pride: The DIY way

Last weekend from June 24-26, Bloomington held the Plan It X punk music festival.

For three days, you could experience a variety of underground bands, ranging from pop punk to folk punk. The profits made went toward payment of the bands and benefited several grassroots organizations.

While small in comparison to the likes of Pitchfork or Bonnaroo, the cultural ideology driving this festival is where it earns its stripes.

Last held in Bloomington in 2008, the gathering attracted around 1,000 people. Not all ticket holders in previous years, a handful of them were actually heroine-shooting “gutter-punks,” who after a long night of binging and festivity pitched tent (i.e. passed out) on private property.

Since then, the organization limited the amount of tickets in order to contain such behavior.

Nevertheless, this year wasn’t your typical Plan It X. In fact, most of the crowd this year seemed like a bunch of really nice people.

I didn’t end up going to any of the shows. Instead, I lingered outside the Rhino’s venue where crowds of grungy, hip, androgynous-looking punks mingled. Nearly everyone I talked to was approachable.

I was also surprised at the number of out-of-towners there were. A lot of locals I know had no idea of this event, yet there I was talking to people from England, Germany and Argentina.

But what really set this festival apart from others was its genuine, humanistic feel. Whereas most concerts or music fests mercilessly attempt to squeeze every penny from your pocket, the slogan for Plan It X is “If it ain’t cheap, it ain’t punk.”  

For a budget of $50, you could get a three day pass, make your own silk-screened shirt and purchase two (actual, non-Vegan) hot dogs.

With this philosophy in mind, I suddenly noticed how pertinent the role of DIY was to the culture. Stuff there was cheap because they made it themselves, for themselves.

They made the music, the merchandise, the bicycle...the bicycles. Tandems, scrapers, and fixed gears of all sorts were around, and not a single Mongoose in sight.

One glance at the bike rack made me wonder if Dr. Seuss was hanging around nearby with greasy hands and a cast iron.

This is what really got a hold of my attention. Not only did people here know how to be resourceful, but they also seemed to be committed to their respective crafts.

From the music to the bicycles, you could sense a real dedication to the DIY attitude.

Regardless of your cultural lifestyle, I think something can be gained from this outlook. From punks to Nike, it’s always healthy to remind yourself you should ‘just do it.’

I’m not planning on chucking my MacBook out the window and suddenly retreating barefoot into an anarchist commune, but I do hope to apply the same boldness within my own life, one way or another.

Either way, I’ll be waiting here until they come back next year so I can get more of those hot dogs.

­— rscronin@indiana.edu