My ten favorite punk songs and why they suck (Part 2)

Here is the second part of the series I began yesterday:

5. "Rolodex Propaganda" by At the Drive-in

The spiky, nonsensical phrases that protrude from the white-hot chassis of this song are what really do it for me. They sound like the death screams of some demented beast clawing desperately but futilely for relevance. And the music hurtling along underneath them manages to incorporate just enough nerdish, contorted guitar riffs and soaring synth to be musically interesting without lapsing into the autoeroticism of prog-rock or compromising its raw punk sound. This band is what punk is when played at its best: Challenging on all fronts, but also visceral.

Of course, At the Drive-In is no more. The band's chief masterminds, Cedric Bixler-Zavala and
Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, have forsaken their punk roots for the opulence and--hey--autoerotic prog-rock of a new project, the Mars Volta. That's how punks go, more often than not. Everyone eventually seems to say "Hell, I'm too old for this shit" and go on to something more mature. Even the genre's patron saints defect--Johnny Rotten, Ian MacKaye, Bad Brains, Henry Rollins, Glen Danzig and even Dee Dee Ramone. Me, I'm a grown man. Soon I'll be a college graduate looking for a real job, so am I not too old for this shit?

4. "California Uber Alles," by the Dead Kennedys

"California Uber Alles" is everything punk rock should be--sinister, powerful, biting, clever, offensive, theatrical, absurd and, for all of that, tuneful and catchy. Poor Jerry Brown. My dad was actually a big supporter of his, but he will definitely be best remembered as Jello Biafra's target in this tune. Here he is assailed in clever, vivid and snarky lyrics that are, like much of what Biafra wrote, extremely funny. When many people think "punk," they think of this song and, for the genre, that's a good thing.

Biafra is also a problem I have with this song. Most of my current musical heroes--Stephen Malkmus, E-40, David Byrne, 1970s Bob Dylan, Kevin Drew and early 1990s Stuart Murdoch--seem interesting and fun to hang out with. I feel like I have to relate to musicians these days and most punk rock musicians seem like either unpleasant companions (Biafra, Rollins, MacKaye, Rotten) or idiots (GG Allin, Ramone, Jerry Only, anyone from the Casualties), or of course both. I don't think I'd like to have a conversation with anyone as self-righteous, cynical, cocky or theatrical as Biafra's onstage persona. Maybe that's not a big deal for other people, but it is for me.

3. "This Is Not a Photograph" by Mission of Burma

Mission of Burma is a dorky band. Just look at the technical quality of their guitar playing, the chordal bassline and the slide guitar, keeping in mind that this is before they started to get real artsy (for punk). Just listen to those Dada-influenced lyrics. You can tell these guys went to college and read books. They are essentially an ivory tower garage band, three guys who just wanted to write the types of songs they'd like to listen to, except that they happened to be classically trained musicians. And hey, I guess I want to listen to those types of songs too.

Come on, though. Is Mission of Burma really punk? Yes, but it's easy to get confused, as were most people in Burma's time. They got an indifferent response at the gigs they played with other Boston hardcore bands like SS Decontrol for not being as hard, fast, or simple, or dressing like punks. That's because punk is not a genre that rewards a sense of adventure, it's a genre that rewards those who want to replicate the sounds everyone else is making. When a band tries to refine, expand, or explore its sound, it is greeted with a violent response from its core fans because what punks really want to hear (but not necessarily what musicians want to play) is three chords and, if not the truth, then at least something they can punch one another to.

2. "Corona" by the Minutemen

The Minutemen produced a clutch of great songs that sprawled across the landscape of musical genres, mostly rooted in punk and bassist Mike Watt's dexterous, funky chops. But what made them great was the unashamed sincerity of their lyrics, ham-fisted poet Watt's tenderhearted stream-of-consciousness and history book-reading guitarist D. Boon's itchy, frustrated sloganeering. This one is among their best and certainly their best-known, Boon's tender lament on the poverty he witnessed on a trip to Mexico. These lyrics are accentuated by a complex, appropriately spiced musical arrangement that accentuates the soul in Boon's haggard voice.

The music was also used as the soundtrack for the T.V. series "Jackass," maybe more recognizable on frazzled electric than soulful acoustic. One almost suspects that the dichotomy between the song's content and the show's was intended deliberately to incite knowing laughs. But "Corona's" use for "Jackass" illustrates that, despite its supposed anti-commercial ethos, punk has become yet another manifestation of commerce, just another interchangeable cultural symbol whose meaning is at the fingertips of anyone willing to pay for it. And it extends even to bands noted for their sincerity like the Minutemen.

1. "Blank Generation" by Richard Hell and the Voidoids

Patti Smith aside, Richard Hell is the greatest poet punk has ever known. He did pithy slogans ("Blank Generation," "Love Comes in Spurts"), he could go all over the emotional palette, and even when he was being preposterous ("The Plan") it wasn't his words that failed him. More than any other, this song set the tone for the punk aesthetic: nihilistic, snide, vaguely otherworldly. The second verse is particularly vivid, proof that lyricists like Hell can breathe life into their music. And Hell's caterwaul is also criss-crossed by some very impressive solos, both in this version and in the one he recorded with the Heartbreakers. There's a lot of talent here and the end result sounds very good.

Look at Richard Hell, though. At how he is dressed. Hell is the man credited with inventing punk fashion and I think he has a lot to answer for--not because it is necessarily a bad look but because the spirit of punk has been subsumed by fashion. For many people, there is nothing to punk beyond safety pins, studs, torn clothes and mohawks, except perhaps for violence. But that's not really what punk is supposed to be about. My interpretation, when I was into it, was that punk was about knowing what is important to you and telling everything else to fuck off. When I learned that, nowadays, what it is actually about is who has the tallest liberty spikes, I politely told punk to fuck off.