I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve seen Generacion Suicida play. I’ve seen them play from TJ all the way to the Bay, and I’ve never gotten tired of seeing how fucking electric they are. If you’ve ever been to one of their shows, you already know what I mean. I’m sitting on my bed writing this, listening to a helicopter fly over my neighborhood in Inglewood, and thinking of how Oakland and Inglewood and South Central are indistinguishable in so many fucking ways—from government corruption, to police brutality, to violence at the hands of our own. If you listen to GS, and you don’t fucking get what they’re putting across—lyrics dripping with vitriolic distrust of the world they’re immersed in—then you’ve never been to the hood, or grew up around fucked-up shit, or hopeless, or felt lost, anger, and frustration. I feel all these emotions constantly, sometimes every single day of my life; all within seconds. GS are some of the voices of L.A. punk that give me hope within so much desperation and anxiety that can come from living… every single day.