By Ryan W. Bradley
Pussy Riot’s battle in Russia has revitalized the political backbone of the punk community, but it has also transcended punk.
I came to punk music in an era where the word “punk” had broadened,
proliferated itself into culture in a million different ways. Unlike the
era in which punk was born the scene had become less about political
activism and more about the sound of the music and other, less
significant, aspects of life. Punk was being used to describe any number
of counter-culture aesthetics. Seeing the word used in a JC Penney was
just as likely as on some photocopied poster for a show in a dive bar.
The
band stood at the front of the church, bowed at the altar, crossed
themselves and began to play a song imploring Mary, the mother of God,
to drive Vladimir Putin out of Russia.
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I didn’t bemoan this shift. The band I sang in for nearly five years
did not resist this sea change. The sound was what I was interested in,
and the lyrics I wrote were rarely political. Sure, there were political
movements happening that angered me, George W. Bush’s elections being
chief among those. But I showed my anger about that in non-musical ways.
I wore a white t-shirt for days after we invaded Iraq and carried a
Sharpie with me so people could sign the shirt, making me a living
petition against the war.
The punk scene and I didn’t always co-exist on an obvious level. In
my years of actively participating in the making of punk music I was
criticized or ridiculed by other members of the community for not
looking like a punk. I wore cargo pants and button-down plaid shirts. I
had tattoos, but my ink did not include skulls or classic symbols of the
scene.
This is exactly where the broadening definition of punk meant the
most to me. Punk, in my opinion, has always been about doing things your
way. Being true to yourself as a person whether aesthetically,
musically, or politically. I wore the clothes I liked, got ink that
meant something to me, and played the music I enjoyed: loud, fast, and
sloppy.
Bob Dylan, in my opinion, is one of the greatest punks of all. He has
always made the music he wanted to make. He didn’t allow himself to be
pigeonholed into writing political folk songs. He went electric when the
world didn’t want him to, and Christian when it couldn’t have alienated
a casual audience any further. He made a Christmas album. The guy does
what he wants.
Johnny Cash’s career revival was another great moment in punk music
that will never be defined as such. He made some of the most powerful
and lasting music of his career in his collaborations with Rick Rubin.
But politics will always be ingrained in punk, even when it is hidden
below the surface. There will always be resistance and revolution.
Contemporary punk bands have found their own ways to exemplify this. In
2004 pop-punk trio, Green Day re-invigorated politics in the scene with
their magnum opus, American Idiot, a reaction to Bush’s election and the
Iraq War.
In 2006 The Thermals released their third album, The Body, The Blood,
The Machine. It is a scathing concept album that reflects on
religiosity and fascism, and I would argue, one of the best punk albums
of the last twenty years.
And punk bands have remained political through their actions if not
their music. They are consistently partaking in benefit concerts and
albums. They speak out for causes from veganism to voter registration.
The bands with the most political messages in their music have remained
below the mainstream, but they are there, too. They hustle to stand up
for what they believe in.
But politics was always bound to find its way back to the forefront
of punk music. And the Bush era certainly made strides. But while
politics in the United States are divisive as ever, it has always seemed
obvious to me that the loudest political statement in punk music in
decades would come from outside the U.S., just as it once did during the
1970s in the United Kingdom.
In
a move worthy of an article in ‘The Onion,’ the three were charged with
“hooliganism motivated by religious hatred.” The indictment ran nearly
3,000 pages.
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On February 21, 2012 a day that will forever live in punk lore, Pussy
Riot, a feminist punk collective in Russia, staged a performance
protest in Moscow’s Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. The band stood at
the front of the church, bowed at the altar, crossed themselves and
began to play a song imploring Mary, the mother of God, to drive
Vladimir Putin out of Russia. The band danced spastically in their
“uniforms”: colorful tights, dresses, and balaclavas (ski masks). Within
a minute they were escorted from the church by security guards.
In the United States this act would have passed for nothing more than
a comical flash mob protest that failed to attract more than a few
members and hadn’t practiced long enough to synchronize its eager
scissor kicks. In Russia, where the line between church and state is
deteriorating, it has been called blasphemous and witnesses of the
protest have said they were physically disturbed by the display. And in a
move reminiscent of China’s censorship of its citizens, three members
of Pussy Riot were arrested in March, after a video of the protest was
released.
Russia has long tried to cement its place among the world’s greatest
countries. Unfortunately, more often than not they have done so in the
least progressive, backward ways possible. In a move worthy of an
article in
The Onion, the three were charged with “hooliganism motivated by religious hatred.” The indictment ran nearly 3,000 pages.
The trial didn’t even begin until the end of July, and on August 17
the trio were found guilty and sentenced to two years in prison for
having “crudely undermined the social order.” Two years of imprisonment
for one minute of highjacking a church for a political protest.
The Pussy Riot case is not simply about music; in fact, it is barely
about music at all. Pussy Riot has released barely more than a handful
of songs. While they draw inspiration from the Riot Grrrl movement of
the Nineties, their purpose is more focused on performance and new media
protest of the Russian government. They do not have a record label, nor
have they released any albums.
The collective contains at least ten members and has shown a great
understanding of using new media for garnering attention for their
message. Even the arrest and subsequent trial and conviction have done
much to call attention to Pussy Riot’s cause, which the the three
imprisoned members have acknowledged as a mixed blessing.
Pussy Riot’s battle in Russia has revitalized the political backbone
of the punk community, but it has also transcended punk. Like the
original wave of punk, the case has shed light on political and
humanitarian injustice. Will that translate to a new wave of punk bands
garnering attention for their political causes, for lyrics and actions
that reflect those social concerns? Perhaps it will, but punk has become
part of an assimilated vernacular, with a shapeshifting definition to
fit everything from the actual music to Hot Topic stores in malls,
flying in the very face of everything punk ever stood for.
Maybe we had forgotten what punk meant to the world the way people
forgot what folk music once meant. Where folk was once the protest music
of the people punk took up the cause decades after the Civil Rights
Movement ended and Baby Boomers took to career tracks. The evolution of a
generation can’t help but grow out of these movements. Those who held
the Sex Pistols closest to their hearts may still enjoy the music but
they have likely grown out of the anger and defiance.
Perhaps what is happening in Russia will remind those of all
generations of what they once rose to protest. All of us have breaking
points. All of us have limits of what we are willing to tolerate. All of
us have a point where we are driven to action, to belief, disbelief,
enragement, and defiance. This is why deep down we are all Pussy Riot,
and why we have been waiting, unwittingly, for their arrival.
James
Davis of Alabama fulfilled his wife Patsy's wish of being buried outside
their home, and now, he's in a fight with the City Council to keep her
there:
Organ
transplants saves lives, but there aren't enough suitable and available
organs for those who need them. There just aren't enough donors. Two
doctors, Joseph Vacanti of Boston Children’s Hospital in Massachusetts
and David Cooper of the University of Cape Town Medical School in South
Africa, are looking at ways around the human organ shortage problem.
Many
parents I know privately cringe when their children want to go to art
school. And for good reasons: It's expensive and job prospects afterwards
aren't exactly bright.
