You may remember the first time you heard punk music. Perhaps it was back in 1976, when the Sex Pistols and piercing enthusiast Johnny Rotten broke onto the scene—just as James Callaghan’s chronically broke Labour government went begging to the IMF for a $3.9bn bailout package. Or perhaps it was in 1979, during the winter of discontent, when rubbish lay strewn across Britain’s streets, and Ian Curtis of Joy Division was warping minds with his generally incoherent vocal slurs.
Whenever your first time was, you will know that punk is hard wired into Britain’s national consciousness. Defined as a loud, fast moving, aggressive derivative of rock music—punk is able to encapsulate the mood of the day through its searing guitar riffs, unrelenting drum solos and belligerent vocals.
In the 1970s punk’s aggressive anti-state, anti-fascist heartbeat helped to define a generation’s political stance—most notably in Leeds, where punk was a response to the deterioration of race relations, the rise of the National Front, and the historic suppression of women. In Leeds, the early founders of post-punk had stumbled upon a music type that would come to serve as the perfect conduit for political expression.
Over the coming decade, punk rockers would direct their distain towards a political class accused of pomp, avarice and ignorance. In the absence of social media, punk became the mother of all outlets, and in truth it helped the political class of the day understand what the post-punkers, and wider working class, really thought about government policy; ranging from austerity in the UK, to apartheid in South Africa. You could even argue that punk did actually help to formulate policy—albeit through rather abrasive means.
Now in 2019, it feels as though anarchy has returned to the UK. We are in a state of political paralysis over Brexit. Amazingly, Nigel Farage has returned to frontline politics; ready to decimate Labour’s vote share in the much-anticipated European elections. And just as we thought the national atmosphere couldn’t get any more febrile, Extinction Rebellion steps onto London’s streets to remind us all that our doom is imminent. How fitting that in the age of mass hysteria, punk music has returned to the British mainstream.
And punk’s return to popular culture has been oh so, well, punk. Springing up out of nowhere with its signature sense of aggression, punk is again reminding the nation that while the hyper-object of Brexit eclipses the sun, there are of course lots of other things to worry about (including our imminent destruction.) Fulfilling its role as a national mouth-piece, this music is reminding the country that young people take an interest in politics and will demand to be heard.
Don’t fancy taking my word for it? Well, take for example London-based breakthrough punk rockers Goat Girl. Described as “Fearless and omnivorous” by the Guardian’s Emily Mackay, and Winners of the Q Awards Best Breakthrough Act 2018, this all-girl punk band are using their growing status, and punk’s raw emotional power, to exhort their disgust, penning lyrics such as, “how can an entire nation be so fucking thick?” And in an unsurprising twist, their disgust has resonated. One of their tracks entitled “Scum” has garnered over 250,000 views on YouTube. An impressive haul for a band still in their infancy, within a supposedly niche genre.
And it’s not just London-based punk groups making new waves. Across the nation, prevailing political and social attitudes are being challenged by punk’s swashbuckling honesty. On their second album entitled Joy as an act of resistance, The Idles lay siege to Britain’s toxic social hierarchy. One of the more popular tracks of the album, entitled “I’m Scum,” includes the lyrics: “don’t care about the next James Bond, he kills for country, queen and god, we don't need another murderous toff, I'm just wondering where the high street's gone!?”
Punk is tackling issues beyond Brexit. Britain’s pub trade is dying. Fast. Data published by the Independent this week reveal that over 1,000 pubs shut up shop in 2017. That’s over 1,000 communities who have lost an important public space. Now, to combat such awful news, punk is taking it on. And who better suited than the tsars of modern punk, The Slaves, who have joined forces with Long Live the local—a grassroots campaign that calls for a reduction in beer duty. Enabling owners to make more profit, and perhaps stay open.
The issues that punk talks about today affect all of us. We are all subject to the climate’s ruination. Brexit’s aftermath will harm everyone. On top of all this, the OECD confirmed this month that middle class millennials are being squeezed into relative poverty by austerity, underscoring the decline in the prospects of Britain’s youth.
Just like the poverty that so crippled 1970’s Britain, the era of Brexit is proving to be suitably fertile for punk’s glorious renaissance. Through this revival, Britain’s political class could learn a great deal. Indeed modern punk, insightful and profound, is probably more useful than any data polling or research the government could conjure. Britain’s political class should recognize punk’s return and take note: the people are loud, proud and angry!
Whenever your first time was, you will know that punk is hard wired into Britain’s national consciousness. Defined as a loud, fast moving, aggressive derivative of rock music—punk is able to encapsulate the mood of the day through its searing guitar riffs, unrelenting drum solos and belligerent vocals.
In the 1970s punk’s aggressive anti-state, anti-fascist heartbeat helped to define a generation’s political stance—most notably in Leeds, where punk was a response to the deterioration of race relations, the rise of the National Front, and the historic suppression of women. In Leeds, the early founders of post-punk had stumbled upon a music type that would come to serve as the perfect conduit for political expression.
Over the coming decade, punk rockers would direct their distain towards a political class accused of pomp, avarice and ignorance. In the absence of social media, punk became the mother of all outlets, and in truth it helped the political class of the day understand what the post-punkers, and wider working class, really thought about government policy; ranging from austerity in the UK, to apartheid in South Africa. You could even argue that punk did actually help to formulate policy—albeit through rather abrasive means.
Now in 2019, it feels as though anarchy has returned to the UK. We are in a state of political paralysis over Brexit. Amazingly, Nigel Farage has returned to frontline politics; ready to decimate Labour’s vote share in the much-anticipated European elections. And just as we thought the national atmosphere couldn’t get any more febrile, Extinction Rebellion steps onto London’s streets to remind us all that our doom is imminent. How fitting that in the age of mass hysteria, punk music has returned to the British mainstream.
And punk’s return to popular culture has been oh so, well, punk. Springing up out of nowhere with its signature sense of aggression, punk is again reminding the nation that while the hyper-object of Brexit eclipses the sun, there are of course lots of other things to worry about (including our imminent destruction.) Fulfilling its role as a national mouth-piece, this music is reminding the country that young people take an interest in politics and will demand to be heard.
Don’t fancy taking my word for it? Well, take for example London-based breakthrough punk rockers Goat Girl. Described as “Fearless and omnivorous” by the Guardian’s Emily Mackay, and Winners of the Q Awards Best Breakthrough Act 2018, this all-girl punk band are using their growing status, and punk’s raw emotional power, to exhort their disgust, penning lyrics such as, “how can an entire nation be so fucking thick?” And in an unsurprising twist, their disgust has resonated. One of their tracks entitled “Scum” has garnered over 250,000 views on YouTube. An impressive haul for a band still in their infancy, within a supposedly niche genre.
And it’s not just London-based punk groups making new waves. Across the nation, prevailing political and social attitudes are being challenged by punk’s swashbuckling honesty. On their second album entitled Joy as an act of resistance, The Idles lay siege to Britain’s toxic social hierarchy. One of the more popular tracks of the album, entitled “I’m Scum,” includes the lyrics: “don’t care about the next James Bond, he kills for country, queen and god, we don't need another murderous toff, I'm just wondering where the high street's gone!?”
Punk is tackling issues beyond Brexit. Britain’s pub trade is dying. Fast. Data published by the Independent this week reveal that over 1,000 pubs shut up shop in 2017. That’s over 1,000 communities who have lost an important public space. Now, to combat such awful news, punk is taking it on. And who better suited than the tsars of modern punk, The Slaves, who have joined forces with Long Live the local—a grassroots campaign that calls for a reduction in beer duty. Enabling owners to make more profit, and perhaps stay open.
The issues that punk talks about today affect all of us. We are all subject to the climate’s ruination. Brexit’s aftermath will harm everyone. On top of all this, the OECD confirmed this month that middle class millennials are being squeezed into relative poverty by austerity, underscoring the decline in the prospects of Britain’s youth.
Just like the poverty that so crippled 1970’s Britain, the era of Brexit is proving to be suitably fertile for punk’s glorious renaissance. Through this revival, Britain’s political class could learn a great deal. Indeed modern punk, insightful and profound, is probably more useful than any data polling or research the government could conjure. Britain’s political class should recognize punk’s return and take note: the people are loud, proud and angry!
