I think that some people view antifolk primarily as a community, which is a bit dangerous artistically because it becomes about going to see your friends play and less about going to see your peers play. There are times where I feel that even the most "antifolk" antifolkers (according to the names I hear off the tips of many tongues) have or are currently gong through periods of stagnantion with their art. Their risk-taking has stopped, they've found a sound they like and they are sticking with it. There's nothing wrong with that. Does that mean they aren't antifolk any more? I don't know.
Take risks, keep trying new things, expose yourself to new people, never be too satisfied with yourself, and most importantly, have fun. Come together as a group not because you were hyped into it, or you signed up on Sonicbids to participate in it, but because you made genuine human connections with people. And if holding a celebration for all of this twice a year works better with a word like "antifolk" attached to it, fine. Do it. #### what anyone who isn't involved thinks. (Why can't I type #### on the antifolk message board?)
Anyone who is too quick to dismiss or label someone else, I find, is just another lunch table member in disguise, jeering at some other group across the room. I spent 7 years from Grade 6-12 dealing with that crap. Why would I want to go back to it?
The antifolk scene at the Sidewalk has changed as a direct result of the neighborhood's changes. That Toby Goodshank or Brian Speaker can't stumble home from the club as easily now that they live in Brooklyn and therefore stop by less; the fact that Seth from Dufus no longer lives in the neighborhood, but upstate; the fact that older musicians I meet in Brooklyn reminisce about how they used to play pool in the basement when they could afford to live on Rivington; these are significant variables. What keeps the heart beating at the Sidewalk is the strength of what Lach built up, the work I continue to put in, and the location of the Sidewalk, in Manhattan, which can be reached by numerous trains no matter where people move to. That people still congregate all over the city: at the Sidewalk, at the Tea Party, at Goodbye Blue Monday, means that the scene is much less concentrated in one spot. But for people who are actively involved, the railroad tracks are solid: the potential to meet new peers and garner attention and respect that they deserve is very much alive. And in some ways, better. Now, someone who gets their first gig at the Sidewalk can find themselves, a few months later, playing an exclusive loft show in Brooklyn, getting a record recorded by a fan who has a studio, participating in festivals in more than one burrough. All through the connections they made on the antifolk scene. A very cool thing.
Regarding the other post, Beethoven may not have been involved in such things (I don't know, haven't read his biography). But John Zorn can certainly juggle both hats. As can Ian Mackaye. Or Lach.
Just keep moving. Don't pick a moment in linear time and try to stay there.