It's happening again. Or, more accurately, it never stopped happening. For decades, DIY hardcore has existed as a whole international underground network, and it's never gone away. The people who started the genre have mostly moved on or learned to coast on past glories, but the newest offshoots of the continuum no longer have much of anything to do with them. Instead, the circuit has twisted and squirmed and evolved. The basement house shows and American Legion Halls and crumbling, freezing loft venues aren't the same anymore, and message boards and Subreddits serve the same functions that zines once did, but that underground still thrives. Bands are piling into vans doing split 7"s with each other, and coming together around festivals like Washington, DC's Damaged City and Toronto's Not Dead Yet. Thanks to easily disseminated Bandcamp links and cheap tour-van gas, you might even argue that hardcore's healthier now than it's been at any point in recent years. And then there's the whole apocalyptic new reality: These kids now have a concrete and despicable rage-target, and there are moments where speeding, hurtling, violent music is the only thing that makes sense.