Hüsker Dü tends to be more introspective. "I don't write about politics because I'm not an expert," says Bob Mould, Hüsker Dü's twenty-five-year-old singer and guitarist. "Some bands find it very necessary to claim they're politically relevant when in actuality they don't know shit about politics. Not informing people is much better than misinforming people. We're sort of like reporters in a way. Reporters of our own mental state. Reporters of the state of the air. Consciousness. Of the day. We make personal statements."
A common complaint heard from the bands is that they are misunderstood. "The critics equated the abrasiveness of the band and some of the harsh personal realities expressed in our songs as being negative because it wasn't all love and flowers," says Bob Mould. "I think we're trying to say something fairly positive."
Most of these neopunk bands are not signed to major labels. They do not have big-time managers. They do not have much money. Black Flag tours constantly, crisscrossing the country in a beat-up van. The group played over 200 gigs last year. On a good night, Black Flag may earn $1000, which has to cover a soundman, a couple of roadies who also sell T-shirts, truck rental and other expenses. On tour the four members of the band somehow exist on $12.50 a day. At home, in L.A., they "scavenge" food and lodging. "We are the hungriest band I've ever seen," says Rollins, who grew up in the suburbs around Washington DC. "I've never seen a band who would go to any lengths to play like we will."
On the road many of the musicians sleep in their vehicles or on any sofa or floor they are offered. When they are home, they crash in rehearsal halls, low-rent apartments or even with their parents. "We get in the van and drive to a town, play, stay at a friend's house," says Paul Westerberg. "Wake up when they throw us out. Drive the rest of the day. Play the next night. We get fifteen dollars a day. And when we're home, we don't get nothing. We're way in debt. We have van problems. We own a van, it breaks down, and you know when you play that the gig money goes to pay for the broken-down van. We're used to it."
There are also lifestyle differences between the neopunks and their progenitors. Many of the new bands avoid
THIS IS THE NEW PUNK ROCK,
1985 style. Or at least one version. For there is a whole new underground now. Punk $#151; in all its obnoxious, rebellious, snotty glory — lives. It may not get much press these days, a full decade after it was practically invented at a club on New York City's Bowery called CBGB's but it's still around.
You can find it in Minneapolis, where the Replacements, drunk out of their minds, sing songs like "Gary's Got A Boner" and "Fuck School." You can find it in San Francisco, where the original punk spirit of anyone-can-do-this lives on in Flipper, a band that, when it's not in the midst of one of its periodic breakups — as it is at the moment — lets members of the audience climb onto the stage and sing. And, naturally, you can find it around Los Angeles, where Black Flag releases albums like Family Man, with a cover that pictures a man holding a gun to his own head, while his wife and kids lie slaughtered nearby. The caption on the cover of Family Man reads: NOVEMBER 23RD, 1963. "We like to make an impact," says Rollins.
"We're getting away with doing what we like to do," says Ted
These bands tend to be classified as punk or, in the last few years, as hardcore. But to lump them all in the same category is to ghettoize them. For Black Flag and the others are simply carrying on the most basic of rock & roll traditions. They fit nicely along rock's flamboyant rabble-rousers, from Little Richard to the New York Dolls, from the early Elvis to the Doors. These bands are loud, wild, intense, unpredictable, irritating and, of course, controversial. Guaranteed to upset your parents. Most of your friends too. "A rock & roll band needs to get under people's skin," says Paul Westerberg, 25, lead singer of the Replacements. "If it can't, then you ain't worth nothing. You should be able to clear the room at the drop of a hat."
So what?" you may say. Isn't this just more of the same old adolescent blather punks have been spewing out for years? Yes and no. For one thing, the sound has changed. Though it was the rigid amphetamine thrash of New York's Ramones and, a few years later, a batch of English punk bands that inspired and defined hardcore music in the late Seventies, the music of the neopunk bands is both varied and eclectic. Among their influences you'll find such diverse artists as Hank Williams and Rick James, ZZ Top and José Feliciano. The Meat Puppets play a kind of
These groups all have something to say. The Repacements rant about technology that alienates people ("Answering Machine") and the way the video revolution has sold out rock & roll ("Seen Your Video"). Black Flag deals with hypocrisy and guilt ("Slip It In"), indecision ("I Can't Decide") and jealousy ("Black Coffee"). The Minutemen worry, in one song, about Michael Jackson wasting his power ("A Political Song For Michael Jackson To Sing") while noting in another how punk rock changed their lives ("History Lesson Part II"). Flipper philosophizes about boredom ("You Nought Me") and pollution ("Love Canal").
The common thread that continues to run through punk is a dissatisfaction with the modern world. How that frustration is articulated varies greatly. The Minutemen advocate political awareness. "Music can inspire people to wake up and say, 'Maybe somebody's lying.' This is the point I'd like to make with my music," says Minutemen bassist Mike Watt, 27.