Brother Malcolm, Brother Yort

I’ve been punched in the head, at least, twice by the legendary Copper Age Corpse. When I was a kid it was always a good sign when Troy started dancing. It meant a lot of things. It meant the band mattered–that they had some moral compass, something worth paying attention to. It also meant there’d some crowd-killing in the near future. Either way–the world came into focus. One such time was when the song, Brother Malcom started up. A love letter to Malcom X.

To my mind, Malcom X is as to a true American hero as you can get. The mythology and reality of his life overlap in a way that tells us everything there is to know about the atrocities of America, but also, of its potential. If you haven’t read The Autobiography of Malcolm X–get after it. It’s a brilliant, harrowing, almost fantastical story of a complex, ever-changing person. Malcolm’s courage in the face of systemic and systematic horrors should be a part of every revolutionary curriculum. The evolution of that man’s rage and empathy are almost beyond human. Acquaint yourself with him. Sit with his memory.

I’d have never met Malcom and confronted the many evils of our society had it not been for Troy. He took time in tattoo shops to talk to me. To tell young kids like me that anger was okay, but it ought to have direction–that you should always be punching up. I’m still learning–still trying to develop better empathy technologies. If not for hardcore and tattoos though the foundation may have never formed.

If you’re ever in Salt Lake and want to get tattooed hit up Lonely Hearts Club Tattoo. Troy and crew will take great care of you. And if you listen and ask the right questions you might learn a thing or two about radical compassion.