Punk Column

Just when you thought punk was dead, buried and forgotten and it seemed only a glowing recession of unpaid credit and national distrust of the Government could possibly resurrect a generation of discontented youth…

Punk collective Vive Le Punk presents ’77 band the Rezillos performing their album ‘Can’t Stand the Rezillos’ in its entirety. They play Edinburgh’s Liquid Rooms on the 22nd.

Dairy Crest, who own Country Life Butter and fronted a £5 million advertising campaign which featured John Lydon (Sex Pistols’ Johnny Rotten) have reported a drop of more than a quarter in its share prices after airing the commercial. Not sure they chose the best man to sell it to the masses…

BrewDog, a brewery in Fraserburgh, Scotland, is being investigated for encouraging irresponsible behaviour after launching Punk IPA and Hop Rocker. The main seller, Punk IPA, reads ‘this is an aggressive beer, we don’t care if you like it’ on the label. Co-founder of Brewdog defended his Punk beer label saying that the aggression was in reference to the taste rather than anything physical: “The word ‘aggressive’ is used because of the biting bitterness in it. It’s a heavily hopped beer. It’s not something you can drink a lot of.” 

‘Punk Rock Karaoke’ are set to release a new CD/DVD featuring guitarist Eric Melvin (NOFX), bassist Steve Soto (Adolescents), drummer Derek O’Brien (Social Distortion) and guitarist Greg Hetson (Bad Religion, Circle Jerks). The disc will spit out 10 tracks for you to shout along to, including tunes from Black Flag, Stiff Little Fingers, Dead Kennedys, Minor Threat and the Buzzcocks and comes out on October 28,2008. Flipper are re-releasing their albums on vinyl after a long period of them bring out of print.

There seems to be fuck all on in Edinburgh in the run-up to the Winter Festival. Perhaps all the punks have gone intro hibernation, using the chilly months to cultivate their hairstyles and nurture their spiky jackets. The alternative is that they are traveling en masse down to Sheffield or London, where Discharge will be bashing out their legendary d-beat noise. They’re flogging their new CD at the shows, so if you go down, pick up a copy and drop it by the Veritas office. A little birdie told me they may be playing in Scotland early next year. However, the birdie may be slightly unreliable as they are always wasted by 11 am, especially if it’s a week day.

Anyways, seeing as there isn’t really much to do, I suggest getting really drunk and going on the Ferris Wheel in Princes Street. Ten points if you manage to puke on a tourist. 20 points if it’s while you’re ice skating.

Originally published in Veritas December 2008 Issue 101. Co-written by Demian Hobby.

The Grit in Edinburgh

Photo: www.myspace.com/thegrit

Green and pink Mohawks dance above the heads of the crowd as a sweaty, dirty guy jumps on stand-up bass and slaps out a thundering bass line. The PA quivers and the air is damp with condensation, part sweat and part booze. The Grit are playing at the Three Tuns, a cellar bar in Edinburgh.

People sit in groups around unfeasibly small tables, drinking, talking and shouting. The band hasn’t started yet but no one has realized that there has been a delay. A girl does a circuit around the room, bellowing insults to her friends on the way to the bar. The gig is busy, but not completely full.

An hour after the scheduled start, two boys begin to hassle the girl on the door. Soon the rough chugging noise of a badly tuned guitar silences them and they bounce excitedly towards the front. A girl joins them, and they remain at the front of the crowd for the entire gig, dancing and laughing.

Running Riot are first to perform. Although young, they play a fast and hard set, barely pausing to breathe between songs. While most of the crowd hangs back, the three at the front wave their fists in the air and jump up and down, their spiked up hair bobbing up and down.

The frontman of Running Riot growls the last note of their set and they quickly pack up their things. The girl at the front leaves her spot and saunters over to the band. She speaks a few words of congratulation. The members of the band nod their heads in acceptance and she leaves to order a drink.

 The Grit start to set up and the crowd slowly begins to surge forward. The lead singer’s English accent burrs over the PA.

“All right? Good…”

The second guitarist finishes tuning up and with a nod the set begins. Dressed all in black, one with an impossibly high flat-top, another with a pink and black Mohawk, they fill the stage. After a few songs, the stand-up bass player spills out onto the dance floor. The air is moist and the girl at the front wipes sweat from under her eyes, smearing black makeup.

The crowd press forward onto the three people dancing, and the girl continues to dance with a full pint perfectly balanced in her hand. Only a few drops spill when a bondage-trouser clad boy smacks into her.

Again the crowd surges forward and those in front must press back against them to avoid crashing into the PA on the floor in front of the band. The bass player leaps onto his oversize bass and begins to strum the bass while standing on it. The girl at the front smudges the words ‘wash me’ onto the bass player’s dirty back with her finger.

The lead singer spews spittle and sweat into the air. The drummer, barely visible, crows to begin the last song. Most people join those at the front dancing, and their feet slip on the drink-sodden stone floor.

The sudden quiet is deafening, and almost sore. Friends shout to each other, not realizing their raised voices. The bartender calls last orders.