There are a handful of records out there that I can truly say changed my life. Dixie is one of them. I’d be hard-pressed to find a more positively influential and wonderful album. Everyone has their life-changers, this is one of mine—possibly the one. From top to bottom, there isn’t a missed note or opportunity. It’s a clash of styles that’s nearly impossible to pin down, but that was how Avail ran. They could not be pigeonholed or reproduced. In fact, I can’t think of anyone who’s successfully reproduced the magic of this band or this record. Aping them would have embarrassing results. It can’t be done. Avail was allowed to capture lightning in a bottle, no one else was.
That’s not to say that Avail didn’t have any influence, because they most certainly did. Their non-stop touring, energy, brilliant songwriting, positivity, and ethics helped countless kids and bands learn how to be better punks and better humans.
I first heard Avail on a Greyhound bus in November of 1994. I had just turned seventeen. A few weeks previous, I’d been exchanging some letters with a kid from West Fargo after my friend Amber sent me a zine he’d made called Plugg (I think). Anyway, I’d sent him a forgettable mixtape and he sent me a not-so-forgettable one in return. The day I got it in the mail was the day I’d decided to leave my parent’s house in Wisconsin, jump on a Greyhound, and head back to my hometown. When I got on the bus, I popped that tape in my Walkman and proceeded to be blown away. It didn’t have the whole album on it (there was some NOFX and other stuff on there too), but it was enough. And with that, I was a changed kid.
At that point, I’d never met who gave me that tape. A few months later we finally met and we’ve been friends ever since. His name is Andy. We call him Ski—and I owe him a lot for that long-lost cassette.
Dixie is no lightweight album. It’s a force of nature with the ability to shape, mold, and change the listener. Over time—and with a couple of decades of hindsight—it’s easy to see how it grows with you and adapts. It’s a rock and a foundation, but it’s also fluid, capable of being whatever you need it to be as life changes. Lyrics take on new meaning and riffs affect new emotions as we transition from wild punks to parents of young ones we hope don’t act like we did. How can a record do that?
I got to see Avail live a handful of times, and for that, I’m truly grateful. Coming up when I did, I got to see a lot of great bands. I count myself damn lucky. It’s been almost 25 years since Dixie came out, but it still makes me feel like a kid, but, perhaps more importantly, it makes me realize how amazing it is to have come out the other side of chaos with a loving family and a lot of old friends who still like to rage every now and then.
Thanks Avail. It’s no fun imagining a world without you. Now go back out on tour. I want my kids to see you.
For some reason, the “full album” link above doesn’t include ‘Pink Houses’, the best cover version of a non-punk song ever recorded.
Below is a video from the last time I saw Avail. I was front-row-center the entire time. See if you can spot me.
James is a writer, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.