Bob Vylan vs Discharge – is anyone killing punk rock?

During my summer break in the UK I found myself in the enviable position of being able to attend a live music event once again. With the loosening of restrictions after ‘Freedom Day’, makeshift social distanced / limited capacity shows (whereby the crowd had to sit at prebooked tables) were being replaced by the traditional standing / full capacity gigs. The first to be announced was the Boom reopening show, featuring a two stage all day punk & hardcore line up, headlined by the legendary Discharge. A short while after, whilst browsing the local listings, I saw that Bob Vylan was also announced to be playing at the Brudenell Social Club.

Now under normal circumstances I’d be at both gigs without question. Despite this, there was still the lingering threat of Covid to contend with.  As I work abroad, I had to be careful, because if I contracted Covid, I wouldn’t be able to fly back to Malaysia and resume my employment. The risk was too great, so I had to regretfully pass on the Discharge gig. However, Bob Vylan was playing the night before I was due to fly, and as I had to do a PCR Test 3 days before my flight, I would already have a negative test required for flying, so if I caught Covid at the show then it wouldn’t have been detected until I’d safely arrived in Kuala Lumpur. Still, I wanted to avoid that nightmare scenario, so I masked up and maintained social distancing where possible whilst I was at the show. [FYI I tested negative upon my return to Kuala Lumpur].

I was a little disappointed at not being able to go to the Discharge gig, but needs must, and it sold out anyway, much to the delight of the venue and the bands. It’s not like I haven’t seen Discharge before, and it’s not like I won’t get to see them again. The first time at the 1 in 12 Club in Bradford in 2010, and then twice at Temple of Boom in 2018 and 2019. The thing about Discharge is that they are amazing, and probably in my top ten bands of all time. They emerged in the early 1980s during the second wave of punk; turning up the tempo, adding brutality, and took the politics of punk to a more confrontational level. There have been hundreds of influenced and clone bands ever since, and they certainly are the pioneers of the style that influenced the emergence of the D-Beat generation. If I am angry, pissed off, or in the mood for mangle, then their albums ‘Why?’ and ‘Hear Nothing See Nothing Say Nothing’ are still go-to records. Despite it being 30 years since those records have been released, every time I have seen them live, those songs, and the rest of their catalogue still sound brutal, fresh, and relevant.

I first became aware of Bob Vylan when he appeared on my Facebook feed. Someone had shared a link to an article or song, and in the image was a young Black British guy wearing a leopard skin fake fur coat, with a Crass t-shirt underneath. That was enough to captivate my attention, and the write up / bio was enough to add them to my radar, and later buy a ticket to the show. Having spent nearly 30 years of going to live gigs (956 at the last count on my spreadsheet) most bands I have seen have been white males with a standard guitar, bass, drums set up. I have always been keen to check out acts beyond the norm, yet in recent years I have started to diversify further and take active steps to embrace multiculturalism to a deeper level in my cultural interests (for example, I only watch foreign dramas with subtitles when I watch TV programmes these days). Bob Vylan seemed like a perfect opportunity to act on this philosophy within the sphere of music.

In the run up to the show I was helping my mum declutter her house, having a good sort out in the kitchen, and throwing away four bin bags of old food products and medicines. During this time, I decided to listen to all the Bob Vylan output available on Spotify. To be honest, at first, I wasn’t fully on board. The music sounded more like the grime/rap side of the crossover; however the lyrics did blow me away, and I could draw some distinct parallels between the messages he was conveying, and those that have emerged from the wider punk movement. Fast forward a couple of weeks, after hearing and seeing the crowd reaction to the first couple of songs, any lingering cobwebs of doubt had been blown away with a hurricane force wind generated by the sound of an enormous door slamming in the gates of hell. The electronic element to the sound (the guitars and the grime beats) sounded heavy and loud, and the live drumming element added an extra depth to the heaviness. It was an overall assault of brutality, just the same as you would experience at any punk rock show with a decent sound system. Then there is the singer, a charming, enigmatic, and down to earth character – who brought the energy to the crowd with his constant movement and interaction. Just as the sound regularly flipped between ambient and heavy, the singer would flip in-between songs from being the nice human interacting with the crowd, to then contextualising a song in his introductions, spitting venomous hate and no holds barred messages about everything wrong with modern Britain. It was Ying and Yang poetry in motion. What I enjoyed in general was this crossover of music, where during the heavy raucous parts if felt like half punk (Discharge style) and half fast ‘dance music’ (Grime, Jungle) – it was quite unlike many things I had heard before. What made the show go to the next level though, was a wild and lively crowd, and the mosh pit going mental for every song. I wasn’t even drinking that night, and still I found myself  dancing along on the cusps of the action. What a show, and what a way to spend my last night in the country. Despite my early flight the next day, I could hardly sleep from all the adrenalin pumping around my body.  

And now to the headline of the article – Bob Vylan vs Discharge – is anyone killing punk rock? Well, that is just the clickbait, as my avid readers will already know, punk rock is about the spirit of co-operation, not competition. Both artists aren’t killing punk rock, both artists are ‘killing it’ in punk rock (‘killing it’ is a slang expression for doing something extremely well). Both artists are class warriors pointing out the ills in our country, both artists are attracting large crowds to their shows, both artists send everyone into a frenzy in the pit, both artists are presenting the same message with a different sound, and both artists are welcome to stand side by side in solidarity as seminal and meaningful members of our community. Perhaps a more meaningful way to frame this would be ‘is anyone destroying punk rock?’ Just as Discharge destroyed the ‘punk rock’ of the manufactured / poster boy / image consciousness bands during the first wave of punk, Bob Vylan are destroying the ‘punk rock’ of the sanitised, scripted, and soundalikes you can see ten-a-penny of at any of the main stages of Slam Dunk Festival. The only way punk continues to evolve is through the that old-aged sentiment of ‘DESTROY’ – so Discharge, and Bob Vylan – keep on killing it, and more importantly destroying it.  

Bob & Bob (Bob Vylan) with the drummer from Discharge
(Photo Credit: April Star Davis) 

     

Departing Zoochosis: An article about, and inspired by Punk-Rock, Listening Habits, Captivity, and Kinship

‘They say you can’t relive the past, but as the lights went down it all came running back: half a life away, the night, for the first time in a lonely life, a young soul took flight’ – The Bangers Embrace by Propagandhi

After nearly 18 months of the Covid pandemic, and the constant tightening/relaxing of measures, I was able to travel back to the UK for the summer holidays to spend some time visiting my friends and family. This also coincided with ‘Freedom Day’, the experimental policy of ‘Living with Covid’, and England returning to the closest measure to ‘normality’ seen in the Western world. I decided to take full advantage of my time in the UK and tried to make the most of any spare time I had. Following a weekend  with my children, under normal circumstances I’d be chillaxing at home on a Sunday night, yet I decided to head out with my good friend, and spiritual elder Simon (who still exists as ‘Simon Bad Religion’ in my phone, as a result of our first meeting in the smoking area round the back of the Common Place [now Wharf Chambers], and one of us wearing a Bad Religion t-shirt helping ignite the sparks of a close bond and friendship over the subsequent years), and we headed to a ‘Meanwood’ garden hangout of some of his close friends, and people I had become acquainted with through him previously. This was an enjoyable & relaxing evening, enjoying good conversation over a few drinks, and everyone being inquisitive about my life in Malaysia. It was great to wax lyrical about my experiences and observations. Upon the arrival of the 10pm witching hour, final cans were consumed, and conversations waned. On the way home, one of Simon’s friends did the sensible thing and went home, yet Simon and I have always had a penchant for carrying on proceedings and debunking the myth that nothing ever good happens after midnight.

So, we went back to Simon’s house, cracked open some more alcohol, and decided to kick back and enjoy listening to some loud music together (Simon lives in a bungalow, next door to a deaf person, which is every middle-aged punk rockers dream). Rather than living in the present and listening to the easily accessible Spotify ready bangers playlists, we (unplanned) settled down to a night of listening to (almost) full records – just like the good old days of music aficionado musings. It was an incredible feeling to be back in that zone, after what seemed like a long adventure in zoochosis. We were now breaking down the fences and embracing our spiritual punk rock animal instincts. What follows is a break down of the records we listened to (on CD) and the feelings & memories they invoked.

NOFX – Coaster

This was Simons first suggestion, which completely took me by surprise, because for him, it came at a particular time of his life (which is often the case) where the songs spoke to him in a way that summed up many of his thoughts and feelings that he had. He even went as far as to cite it as one of his favourite NOFX albums, which is something I have never heard a NOFX fan say.

I bought this record whilst I was travelling, from a record store in San Francisco, not too long after it was released (ironically it was already in the bargain bin by that point). I did listen to it quite a bit when I got back, but it never remained on my NOFX rotation as it seemed to lack depth beyond the bangers of ‘We Called it America’, ‘The Quitter’, and ‘Eddie, Bruce and Paul’.

However, upon this listen, it was great to be reacquainted with all these songs once more after a 12 year gap. What made it more special is that each song was accompanied by a spoken work interpretation by Simon about what themes the songs conveyed, and how it linked to events and themes in his life at the time. Similarly, I was able to offer some of the same back to him, and at this point we had realised that we had hit peak bonding over the power of punk-rock. We certainly weren’t coasting through a standard post-midnight drinking session.  

Stiff Little Fingers – Nobody’s Heroes

Following NOFX, I scoured the darkest depths of Simons CD collection to try and find something different, and not a standard ‘go-to’ record. When I came across Stiff Little Fingers (SLF), it evoked a memory of a previous day, about when I was in the bath listening to a Spotify daily mix (it does have some uses for discovering some new music), and finally heard an amazing SLF song that wasn’t Alternative Ulster. After some attempts at describing the song, I was able to discover its name thanks to the help of the internet. After telling Simon that I had never really got into SLF, Simon seized on the moment to be that teacher to finally give me an education about them, and insist that we listen to the whole record, because all the songs lead up nicely to the song I had recently heard ‘doesn’t make it alright’.

Once again, whilst listening to the songs I was given insight into the socio-political events of the time and listened to the stories from Simon’s life that were attached to the songs. I must say, my mind was blown, and I couldn’t believe how much I had overlooked this band in the past. Now I was finally getting into the band that the guitarist in one of my favourite bands of all time (Dickie Hammond from Leatherface) always reiterated were ‘the greatest punk band of all time’. In fact, upon reflection with my 30+ years of listening habits, I can honestly say that they were one of the best of the original cream of punk bands, especially as they struck a great balance between the snotty chaos of punk and the melodic catchiness of what makes a good pop song. What more is that this all came out and was released by a group of lads living in the ashes of a civil war-torn Belfast. The fact that we were drinking warm beer by this stage of the night, didn’t matter. SLF were making it alright.  

Bad Religion – The New America

I gave Simon a selection of three CDS from his collection which he could choose for the next album, and he chose this one. It’s certainly not one of ‘go-to’ records from Bad Religion (BR), and it’s one that divides the fans, as it was a marked departure from their classic sound and was released on a major label. However, with us being avid long term BR fans, the classics had become over played and needed to be rested, and just like hardcore fans of any band, we took solace in indulging in some of their more lesser listened to output (well actually not for me, this record has been on occasional rotation since I heard it).

The simple pleasures of being a BR fan all came flooding back: singing along to a philosophical line of wisdom from Greg Graffin, joining in with a harmonious ooh or ahh, pointing out an amazing drum fill from Bobby Shayer, or simply just saying the phrase ‘Brain Baker’ with post orgasmic tones when hearing a sick guitar solo. Interestingly, the tour around this record was the first time Simon went to see them live (in Belgium – with a guy he had met travelling around South America). For me it was around ‘No Substance’ when I saw them play a few songs headlining the Warped Tour stage at Reading 1998, but it wasn’t until The Process of Belief tour in 2002 when I really went full on geek worship with them.

The Bomb – Speed is Everything

We were inebriated by this stage of the night, so it gravitated towards single songs and compilations. I found this record in Simon’s collection, and thought ‘this band is so obscure, I bet he must have been at that show in Nation of Shopkeepers, when they played in Leeds during the year 2010 (I was able to find this out using my spreadsheet of all the gigs I have ever been to). It turns out he was there, and we didn’t even know each other at the time. Whilst listening to one of the tracks that made it onto Simons 2010 end of year compilation CD (which he still produces every year), we reminisced how amazing they were live, and how great it was seeing the singer (Jeff Pezzati of Naked Raygun fame) still rocking out on stage despite having recently been diagnosed with Parkinsons disease).  

Dog on a Rope – Spike

That last song turned out to be The Bomb that fizzled the night away (nothing to do with it being nearly 3am and copious amounts of alcohol being consumed – honest guvnor), yet this record is worth a mention given that it follows on from a previous theme to the last song we listened to, and something which came up recently, when we both attended the recent Bob Vylan show at the Brudenell Social Club (and what an amazing performance that was – the crowd were going mental – a tale for another time), which we attended with our mutual friend Nat (who played in Dog on a Rope – one of the best (only) antifascist Oi! Bands from Leeds, who have many a tale to tell). We reminisced how once again we were at another show when we still didn’t know each other, which was a Dog On A Rope reunion / karaoke night at Santiagos in Leeds, which was a leaving do for one of the Leeds punks. Nat reminded us that Simon sang one of the cover songs, and I performed one of their songs, ‘No Surrender’ – a night that had disappeared into the vaults of the spreadsheet memory, and was fitting to be reminded of, given our shared history and passion for punk rock. I think I must have practiced it every night in my bedroom on the run up to the show, because Nat reminded me that I was one of the few people that got up who knew the song inside out.

On a final point to bring it all back round to the present, the poetic timing of the ‘Tiger King’ becoming the most popular online series at the start of the global lockdown is the most ironic thing about these past 18 months. As critical viewers may have noted, learning about the unfair treatment of the animals, and their newfound behaviours as a result of captivity (Zoochosis – did you look up that word when I used it earlier in this article? – if not, then use a thesaurus when you are reading because it raises your literacy standards to emancipatory levels), actually should have been a key moment to understand the changes taking place in society at the time, and help us process our thoughts and feelings with more clarity. As we approach the end of this pandemic, the most important thing for us all, is to unlearn some of the new behaviours we gathered during the lockdowns (subservience, social distancing, and inflexibility of social norms) and start to embrace all those positive & progressive human traits we possessed before it all kicked off (questioning authority, social interaction, and fluidity). On the flip side, we all (especially those with considerable influence) should use this time to reflect on how we treat each other, our fellow animals, and mother Earth, so that we are able to evolve into a new epoch of sustainable existence. Go forth, slowly begin to unleash that punk-rock spirit animal inside of you once more and embrace those little unscripted moments you have missed.