Dennis Lyxzén of T(I)NC, Irving Plaza, New York City, September 15, 2002. Photo by Glyn Emmerson © 2002 NY Rock.

Lars Strömberg of T(I)NC, Irving Plaza, New York City, September 15, 2002. Photo by Glyn Emmerson © 2002 NY Rock.

In general, it irritates me when bands spell their names other than the grammatically proper way – as if a punctuation mark or all-lowercase letters will affect the quality of their music. But I'm making an exception. The (International) Noise Conspiracy can go Prince on us and use a symbol for all I care, as long as the members keep writing and performing like the geniuses they so are. They (fucking) rock. T(I)NC is yet another rock 'n' roll export from Sweden, but with all due respect, they suck the honey right out of that other Swedish, um, "breakout" band. Singer Dennis Lyxzén doesn't need to act like a spoiled brat for the audience to go ape shit, and the band members – while they do wear almost-matching outfits like that "breakout" Swede act – aren't a bunch of plastique fantastique dolls. They're a bunch of tattered (sexy) punk rock sweathogs and tonight's set was thrown down like James Brown.

Daryl Taberski of Snapcase, Irving Plaza, NYC, 9/15/02. Photo by Glyn Emmerson. Photo © 2002 NY Rock.

Ultra-saturated with sweat, cheer, and heart-pounding renegade rock 'n' roll, T(I)NC are also one of the more socially conscious bands around. They sing anti-capitalist songs that do more than inform; the songs' reeling rhythms and lyrics will make you grin mischievously. It sounds idiotically simple, but T(I)NC know the power of a fearless frame of mind. Lyxzén climbed his way into the balcony, stood on its ledge and put his palms on the ceiling. He looked like a ravaged caryatid (get a dictionary, Swifty) bathed in piss-yellow stage lights. He scrambled back down to the stage and climbed all over the amps. This is one flexible brother. T(I)NC's songs had the crowd jumping like loons. Guitarists Lars Strömberg and Sara Almgren (call me) and bassist Inge Johansson shook out the riffs while drummer Ludwig Dahlberg banged away behind them. Get your Marxist freak on.

Between bands, the young crowd flooded the merch tables where they checked out books and pamphlets on global human rights issues, bought lots of band swag, and signed a petition requesting government funding for the National Hopeline Network. It was good to see so many young faces eager to take part. Of course, when the music started, the masses flocked back to the stage area.

While some hardcore bands focus on personal inner struggles, Snapcase have a heightened political awareness. The band tends to think outside its own box. So how does this hardcore mainstay plea for peace? By inciting a killer mosh pit, bro! Frank Vicario's and Jon Salemi's teeth-grinding guitars on "Bleeding Orange" from 2000's Designs For Automotion scaled the air as tough-guys pummeled their neighbors. Frontman Daryl Taberski stood on the edge of the stage and leaned forward as he barked. When the crowd beckoned him to get closer, Taberski obliged and stuck the mic into a cluster of fans who jumped at the chance to do some screaming of their own. Unfortunately, the fans don't have the new Snapcase album End Transmission, so when the band played the new songs, things got a bit less frantic. "Exile Etiquette" was met with head-nodding approval. "Will you die or can we keep you alive?" shouted Taberski on "Ten A.M." The Take Action Tour hopes it already has an answer.