Blank Generation

"Punk rock should be appalling, disgraceful, totally berserk..." Captain Sensible

Punk rock was born in a fire, in a blood and feces stained bathroom stall, in a riot, at an orgy, at a high school prom, at a knife fight, in a little girl's bedroom, at a suicide. A mutant birth brought into being when Garage Rock raped Rockabilly and left her crying and ashamed and bruised and so angry she will kill. Punk rock was the kid in the back of the classroom no-one ever talked to. Punk rock was the kid too poor to take the bus. Punk rock was the kid with broken glass in his knuckles and spit in his eye.

Punk rock is ugly and mean and dumb. It is threatening and misery and death. It is basic primal energy. It is harder, faster, louder than anything that came before it or after it.

Punk rock is a high school dropout, an art school graduate, an MBA, an acne-scarred kid, and a grey haired hipster.

Punk rock is Old School, Hardcore, New Wave, Post-Punk, Oi!, Anarcho-Punk, Pop Punk, Alternative Rock, Emo, Scremo, Queercore, and Riot Grrrl.

Punk rock is shopping at the Salvation Army Thrift Store, at Hot Topic, at West 49. Punk rock is shoplifting food and investing in mutual funds and RRSP's.

I first heard Punk rock in my parents' living room in fall of '76. It was on the CBC, a news report about an ugly, ugly, ugly trend in London. Safety pins and torn clothing and hair standing at right-angles. Violent and smeared in dripping black eyeliner, the crowd at the bar in the news piece threw themselves up and down, up and down. The disembodied voice of the reporter spoke of riots and gang attacks and anarchy. The band was frightening, amateurish, clowns with a six-string guitar and drums, the lead singer droned "No future, no future..." I was ten and this was my Saul on his way to Damascus moment. I was blinded, yet I could see clearly.

"Here's a shocker: Hilly Kristal turns out to have been a millionaire. Just weeks after the legendary former CBGB owner passed away, his heirs - who thought Kristal was broke - are finding out that the old punk impresario was worth a surprising $3.7 million." The Village Voice, September 18, 2007

"What in the name of all that is holy was that?" Me, 1993 after seeing a Subaru Impreza commercial that claimed the car was like Punk rock

Punk has always been about the underground and the underdog. Anti-commerical, anti-mainstream, anti-establishment, anti-authority, anti-anti. Punk has also always been about selling out to the highest bidder, commercial success, mainstream acceptance, radio playlists, and chart positions. The mainstream acceptance of Punk was not forced down a mohawk tattooed throat. The Sex Pistols did not have to give their pictures for Dutch bubble-gum cards. Nirvana did not have pose for the cover of Rolling Stone. The Clash did not have to sell their songs to car companies. Green Day did not have to give their videos to MTV for airplay. Punk rock looks better than ever. It scored the prom queen and an investment portfolio.

"Punk is musical freedom. It's saying, doing, and playing what you want." Kurt Cobain

Punk rock loves to define itself. Punk rock is loud, violent and three minutes long. Punk rock is Hardcore. Punk rock is shouting over a jackhammer. Punk rock is Never Mind The Bollocks. Punk rock is the first Clash record. Its Mommy's Little Monster. Its Black Flag before Hank. Its Black Flag with Hank. Punk rock is what American Hardcore, Punk's Not Dead, Punk: Attitude or any of another dozen documentaries that try to define Punk rock say it is. Punk rock is not. It is not about boundaries or fences or secret handshakes or cult meetings. Or what I just found on Dictionary.com: A type of rock-'n'-roll, reaching its peak in the late 1970s and characterized by loud, insistent music and abusive or violent protest lyrics, and whose performers and followers are distinguished by extremes of dress and socially defiant behavior. It is not. It is also Mike Ness' and Eddie Spaghetti's country records. It is also Devo, The Talking Heads, Blondie, and The Boomtown Rats. It is what Cobain said. Musical freedom. As someone much wiser than me said, if your heart is in the right place, the surface material doesn't really matter.

Punk rock is dying and is alive and well and is no-code and is having heart palpitations and just got some hair plugs and is cute and is ripped and is pretty damn hot. Punk rock is eating its young to stay alive, is cannibalizing its neighbors, is denying and is shouting proudly from the rooftops.

Punk rock is complicated.