I recently found myself in a conversation with a group of people my age and older (40-ish and up) during which the music of today's youth was described as "nothing but noise." It made me feel older and dowdier than a flare-up of my gout, but it also got me thinking about my foray into the world of noise, twenty years ago.
Twenty years ago, friends, I was a punk rocker. To this day, I have a favorite Sex Pistols song, "Did You No Wrong" (Lyrics here, much good may they do you; I never loved the Pistols for the poetry) and a favorite punk album, Singles Going Steady by the Buzzcocks (Too Tough to Die by The Ramones runs a close second). Just mentioning these two albums makes me want to start rummaging around in my box of old cassette tapes, but I will finish writing first.
Now, I am not going to argue that punk culture was not destructive for many. You don't have to have seen Sid & Nancy to know that. Nor wil I deny that I cringe to remember that I listened to bands with names like Gism and the Crucifucks. That I ever listened to--and liked--the Feederz song "Jesus Entering From the Rear," without a doubt the most offensive song ever recorded, is so humiliating that I can't resist mentioning it. (Through the glory of the World Wide Web, you can download it for free here, but for God's sake don't. Come to my place and listen to their cover of "Have You Never Been Mellow" instead, once I dig it out of the aforementioned box.)
But there's another side to punk, too. In my hometown, punks were discouraged from using drugs, and the all-ages shows at the Ukrainian Hall were safe for kids as young as 13 and 14. And punks took politics seriously. There were lots of political bands, but I remember MDC best. Their initials stood for something different on every album; I learned about the nuclear freeze from Missile Destroyed Civilization, about vegetarianism and factory farming from Millions of Dead Chickens, and about the horrors of capitalism from Multi-Death Corporation.
Since punk bands never had any money, compilation albums were big. A bunch of bands would get together and contribute a song or two each. I remember this huge international compilation, the P.E.A.C.E. Compilation, that came with a fuckin' book (that's me reverting a little) about the issues. (Here I have to interject that it is either the wonder or the horror of the Web that it is so easy to find this old stuff on-line. The songlist from this compilation really takes me back, man. I had totally forgotten about Reagan Youth, DOA, Barely Human, and RAF Punk. Note to self: find that box!).
I was never much of a punk. Too nice-girl Midwestern to wear all that black; too secretly fond of European techno-pop pseudo-New-Wave; too concerned about safety to enjoy stage diving ("somebody could put an eye out!"); too smart to think that rebel-posing by suburban kids amounted to much. But long before I was a lesbian feminist (OK, months before, but that's long when you're 18), I found an alternative world view that spoke to my condition and a relatively safe place to fool around with my identity. The music was three chords only, all the feedback you could handle, and lyrics so obscene it was a blessing you couldn't understand them. All played by good people with a great sense of humor and a passion for justice.
I loved punks. I miss punks. Punk did me good.
Posted by Su Penn at July 22, 2003 11:52 PM | TrackBack