When I was a kid, punk always left me cold–really cold. I didn’t dig the aesthetic of ugliness; I didn’t dig the discordance; I didn’t dig the alienation. It seemed like just another set of rules masquerading as freedom. And the supposed “sincerity”–what might have been absolutely vital and sincere in London in 1977, had become a complete pose in the suburbs of Chicago ten years later. And the music…well, why not just listen to gutbucket 50s and 60s rock?
That being said, I love Julien Temple’s movies about punk—The Great Rock and Roll Swindle, The Filth and the Fury, and now The Future Is Unwritten. At 40 years of age, I think I may be coming around…if not to punk, at least to The Pistols as a historical moment, and The Clash as a band.
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Written by Michael
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