Kat Moss is the singer of Scowl. Their debut album, How Flowers Grow, was released in 2021.
The identity of the Northern California scene is unity. But if you take it a step deeper, it's based on the really close-knit friendships and massive amounts of support flowing from one band to another. It's created this amazing culture in the Bay, as a scene.
There's a lot of new people coming around because they're just tapping into everything and getting to know about this cool thing called hardcore. I've said it before, but it's crazy to go to shows now that are selling out. I don't recognize most of the faces, whereas the same lineups two or three years ago, we could fill out a small room of all of our best friends. So, it's really exploded.
What's special about the Bay, though, is we've really worked so hard to put ourselves on the map. I think some people who haven't been around the Bay or never came and played a show, don't realize how hard we worked for a lot of the success and attention we get now. Even the biggest bands, like Gulch, Drain, Sunami, are such down-to-earth people, and willing to spend time with anyone who wants to talk to them at a show and willing to share their wisdom.
We all go to each other's houses and barbecues and birthday parties. When we're home, we go out and get coffee and bagels every Saturday. I get to talk to Sammy [Ciaramitaro of Drain and Gulch] all the time and ask for advice and share my experiences from the road, because he's my friend. These relationships are such quality friendships, and it's just cool that we've been able to celebrate each other's successes. I mean that in the least pretentious way possible. Because when I was a teenager, I didn't think anyone existed who liked the weird shit I did. So, it's awesome.
It's crazy to think that Scowl could be a touchstone for our scene right now, because in my head I still keep thinking we're just starting out, this is my first band, and we're just playing SubRosa — this tiny little anarchist library [in Santa Cruz] that we used to book hardcore shows in. I don't always like to bring this angle up, but especially as a woman, sometimes I can feel a little alienated or kind of nervous stepping into spaces. But I know that all the people in the scene, regardless of how they identify, they really have my back.
So I want to see more young people starting bands and stepping up to the plate, because that's the only way to keep NorCal hardcore alive. We need the youth to be able to express themselves — that's the point of hardcore. Get off your ass, write a demo and play your first show. I know it's scary. I know it feels impossible. But it's the best decision you'll ever make.
This is Real Bay Shit, or RBS. If you know, you know. Got to see it to believe it.
