I was 16 years old when my older cousin started dating the guy who would turn me on to punk rock. This was in a very backward Pennsylvania town during one of my transitional teenage years. By this time (1996-'97), most of the cool kids in my school were in the middle of either discarding their baggy grunge flannels, sewing patches onto their corduroys, or tie-dyeing their Izods. In other words, grunge was dead, Jerry Garcia's memory lingered, and the Dave Matthews Band... More >>>