In this week's print edition of LA Weekly, I contributed a piece about Jeffrey Lewis's new album 12 Crass Songs, and the phenomenon of young(ish) indie rockers covering 80s era hardcore punk songs. We're using the blog to post some related materials.
Sometimes you hear something that enrages you beyond all measure, i.e. U.S. Imprisons One in 100 Adults, Report Finds
And then you begin to wonder: Is there nothing to be done about it? Is there nothing to be said? Why exactly is there no one saying anything about this kind of thing anymore about this sort of thing? Why, instead, do bands only seem to talk about their feelings; about office life; about television being bad for you; about girls that broke their hearts; about topics that will one day be used to accompany hamburger commercials and television commercials for television sets that involve lots of colorful bouncy balls bouncing down a street, et. al.?
Oh I could come up make my examples more precise, dear reader, but it would only hur me. And really, the exact problem with music these days I feel sometimes is a lack of precision, a lack of culpability, a lessened sense that anything an artist says will ever really matter. Because, already, 1 out of 100 are in prison. It's too fucking late.
Because punk is dead.
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After the jump, what am I saying here?
Yes, I am saying that punk is dead!