As Cheesegrater previously mentioned, we were "hardcore" and they were "softcore". Anyone who has watched the Throwdown, Bleeding Through, or Indecidion Video Vault dvds, or knows anything about the history of Orange County Hardcore from 1998- present knows that the SOFTCORE house was where bands like Admantium and Throwdown were spawned.
It was a shitty, two bedroom apartment on the border of Costa Mesa and Newport Beach, less than a mile from the beach. Denizens included, but not limited to Tommy Love, Brandon Love, Eric Johnson, Aaron Lisi, Keith Barney, and Dan Sena's records. Many a late night Jenga game and Hatebreed stagedive party went down in the living room, and the door policy was very open.
I crashed on the couch for a while, then moved into an apartment on the other side of town with Jason Shockley and Brandon Chamberlain. We were WAY tougher than them, vegan sxe and ready to tell everyone. We were fucking HARDCORE. We had heard of a house of hc kids in Utah who named their house GREYSKULL and I thought it was fucking awesome to name a house. We named ours the totally fucking original HARDCORE HOUSE becuase we were fucking HARDCORE!!!!
Some of those who hung out at the other house did not share our militant views and decided "those guys are hardcore, we are SOFTCORE".
Their house became legendary, ours... not so much.
There were several incidents of the two houses clashing, including actual physical violence once or twice.
One night Shockley and I went to Koo's Cafe to see a show. I don't remember who else played, but ONE KING DOWN was one of the bands. We were super stoked on this band, becuase they had a really modern sound and sung about straightedge. In between songs, Rob Fuscoe announced on the mic that they were in need of a place to stay that night. Jason and I looked at each other, nodded, and I said "you can stay at our house". Right there. In the middle of the show.
The show ended, we stopped at a supermarket on the way home, got home, stayed up talking for a while, and everyone eventualy went to bed. I had to wake up early for work, and left a group of sleeping strangers on my floor. No big deal.
Got home from work around 6 and immediately Brandon said "dude what the fuck happened to our house?" I was shocked and confused, and he directed me to the kitchen.
At some point, the band decided to make pasta. Not a problem... except they DIDN'T FUCKING CLEAN ANYTHING UP. There was shit everyfuckingwhere. Pasta, sauce, pots, bread... a disaster. And no thank you note or anything. They were the WORST house guests I've had, to this day.
About 2 or 3 years later, 18 Visions was playing in Albany, NY with The August Prophecy. Guess who was at the show? Rob Fuscoe. I walked up to him, said "hey, remember me?" he said no, and I said "do you remember fucking up my kitchen in Orange County?"
His smile dropped, and his hand went up to his head and he said
"Oh my god. I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so ashamed of myself, etc etc"
We laughed and played a game of chess, and every time I've seen him since I reminded him of the time his band fucked up my house.