the todd harrison rock archive punk rock on one of my more recent internet meanderings, i came across something apparently known as a "personal home page." this horrid little corner of the web was one of those sites created by sad people out there who, for some reason, seem to think that total strangers will be interested in their lives. and yes, to clarify, i separate myself from this group in that this website is related to my music "career," as it were, and not just the comings and goings of some guy named todd. anyway, where the hell was i? ah, yes -- this guy's website. it was black and red, and the introduction began with something like "hi, i’m so-and-so and i’m an 18-year-old punk from yada yada yada...." yeah. he called himself a punk. turns out, people do it all the time. shit, some BANDS even brand themselves "punk." well, i've had enough. it's time for a lesson in punk. in the latter half of the 60s, strains of music began to emerge that were decidedly opposite the flowing, melodic tendencies of the popular circle. the mc5 in detroit. the velvet underground in new york. you get the idea. this music, each in its own way, was crafted to hurt people. shock them. shake them from their psychedelic haze. but nobody was listening. eventually, the grassrootsiness of the music scene in the 60s faded to horrid, corporate mush. by 1976, disco surfaced, and an equal and opposite reaction began to brew in the same gutters that bred that hurtful music ten years before. enter the new york dolls. the ramones. the modern lovers. the clash. the buzzcocks. the sex pistols. this was punk. but here's the catch: nobody knew what "punk" was. sure, the ramones had judy the punk and sheena the punk rocker, but no self-respecting member of the circle bothered with a title. punk, in retrospect, was not an image. it was a lack of an image. a desire to not be. we just gave it a moniker for easy referencing. i don't think many people need to be told that what passes for "punk" today is a sad cousin to what was being bashed out twenty-five years ago. but the ideal still has merit. as exhibit "a," may i introduce my friend brandon triance-haldane and his former band 5:15. the lineup: two guitars, and one screaming vocalist. they jammed in a structure dubbed "the barn," writing abrasive, short songs about...well...anything. titles like "born to die," "seventeen," "when i see you." eventually, the band morphed. added a drummer or two. changed their name a few times. learned how to play their instruments. but brandon and i were talking about their beginnings one day and he said "ya know what, we never realized it, but we were a punk band." that, to me, is how it should be. punk can't live in the present tense -- it's something you were, not something you are. so, to the bozo who called himself a punk on his personal home page: fuck you. earn your stripes. top :: home