punk is not dead, it has to be born again
after a couple of years in the deep, dark cellars of techno music in German nightclubs I had my tongue hanging out for a loud and filthy punk rock blast . . .
the venue called ‘smelling buddha’ hosted a bunch of DJ’s on the upper floor and a bunch of punk bands in the basement.
In my eyes and my memory a punk show was always something, that was going on besides all the party crap people usually go to to get drunk.
sure, it always had its fashion-and-style-standards rebellious boys and girls try to meet, but the moments between broken beer bottles and shit faced jerks in smoky, dark holes made the nights lovely and … fucked up!
the instrumental side of the night was remarkable, most musicians knew what they were doing with their toys, but is that what punk is supposed to be?
but what is punk supposed to be?
‘the brain’ absolutely convinced me, the singer didn’t just look like bad ass, the bands power drove the entire crowd into wild pogo dancing and after half an hour I was satisfied and ready for the next band to come.
they came and they sucked! ‘shitzu’s musical demand was subterrestrial. that can totally complete a punk band, if they have a message or if you enjoy their stage performance, but these guys were just bad. and printing a photo of a girl from behind, exposing butthole and pussy on music tapes doesn’t make it better – grow balls guys (and girls)
‘VCR’ was the band why I went out that night. a friend told me, that the group is getting some attention and that they’re dressing up weird for the show so I assumed it’s gotta be good then.
again, the instrumental parts were great, the kids know how to play, but just by carrying the butt-naked-drummer – kicking around like a horse – to his drums, doesn’t make a show a fucked up show.
I felt like being at a schoolyard packed with kids playing the asthetic of punk. the real kids in the sandbox are willing to eat some dirt, they don’t just prance around art- and other students, who turn into punk rock princesses when the sun sets friday night.
some of the punk rockers were authentic, but they were outnumbered by bling-bling dress and hipster outfits, that’s why I left before the last band . . .
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