My Punk Rock Belt
We decided to celebrate the 30th anniversary of 1977 — that being the birth year of punk, not the release year of “Star Wars” — in a manner most befitting the genre, I think. My wife bought me a Sex Pistols belt that had been marked down at Target and I gratefully accepted the neat belt.
I have no idea what most people think the punk ethos is these days, but the act of buying band merchandise is pretty close to the way I understood it two decades ago and judging from the t-shirts at Hot Topic, I don’t think it’s changed that much.
Actually, it’s changed enough in an important way. If I had purchased a Sex Pistols belt back in 1977 — if the belt even existed, which I doubt — I probably would have had to go to one of Malcom McLaren’s boutiques in order to do so. The money would have gone to fund McLaren’s lifestyle and personal projects rather than, say, Sid Vicious’ heroin or Johnny Rotten’s dentist. Nowadays, I can look my belt and see a copyright for the Sex Pistols written inside and know that a portion of this sale is going to the actual band itself — including the long-maligned Glen Matlock who did all the work and then got fired and replaced with the unlikable and unskilled Vicious but chose to, you know, live and reap the future rewards.
If punk is about anything in the popular collective mind, surely it must be about the right people getting their due. And if that’s the case, then this belt is definitely punk.
I don’t know that people always would have thought that, but people have a way of allowing wool to be pulled over their eyes in order to relax about outside attitudes that might contradict their inner notions. For instance, I was reading the recent issue of Spin celebrating the year 1977, with their interview sections of the original punk scenesters in London, New York, and California. One thing everyone from London seemed to agree on was that punk was a media creation and the movement was dead and commercialized just shortly after it began. From the first chord of The Damned’s “New Rose” it was all about t-shirts, actually.
Back in 1977, the prospect of the 30th anniversary of “Star Wars” appealed to me much more. I can remember the night I saw the “20/20” report on the Sex Pistols and it freaked me out. Even by the early ‘80s, my embrace of punk was slow — I liked the Ramones and I had an I.R.S. comp with some great songs by the Damned and the Stranglers and Skafish on it, but I was still listening to Yes. Back then I thought punk was genuine, even if I wasn’t wild about it.
I can still remember going to a Halloween party in 1982. This downtown punk kid who looked sort of like Marty Allen was there. I knew him to say “hi” to and did so. This act was apparently an invitation to start blathering onto me about Brit punk seven inch rarities that he had been trying to track down, some he had recently found. It was so . . . geeky. It was no different from a conversation I could have with someone about, say, Giant Size X-Men #1. There he was in full scary punk regalia and he was talking like a comic book dork.
Back then, I had no idea that this meant that I was initially right, punk was genuine. That night, I thought it meant that punk was about marketing. Twenty-five years later, I realize that I was right on both counts. One does not preclude another.
I was totally sold to the old Brit punk sounds in September of 1983 when my new college roommate assured me he had the song that would convince me the Sex Pistols were amazing. He’s right — “Friggin’ in the Riggin’” did the trick.
Years later, I have to confess I was a bit mystified by Nirvana and the so-called “year punk broke.” I listened to one song and thought, “I heard this all 10 years ago” and quietly went about my business, never paying any further attention to them. I still don’t care for them, but I realize that somewhere in the t-shirts and box set rarities, perhaps Nirvana is true to the punk spirit.
My favorite Sex Pistols song is “EMI.” What could be better than a loud, rockin’, pissed off song about marketing? A great loud, rockin’, pissed off song about marketing. Which it is.
The Sex Pistols had other great rebellious victories long after they were officially done, like winning a court battle against McLaren for the rights to their songs and registered trademarks for merchandising purposes — even Sid Vicious’ mom got a piece of that. Like reforming to make some money on touring, since they never done that before. Like re-recording “Anarchy in the U.K.” for “Guitar Hero.” Like appearing on “The Tonight Show.”
It’s all about the filthy lucre and always has been.
The only difference between now and then is that stores like Hot Topic are allowed in malls. The stores always existed, the drive to buy into your culture always moved people to a retail space, it’s just the location that has changed — and much like Wal-Mart wreaks havoc on the Mom and Pops with power tool sales and school supplies, Hot Topic does the same with spikey, leather chokers, and strappy pants.
As does Target, apparently.
None of this degrades the music or makes it less fun. In some ways, I think it makes it better — it’s now the soundtrack of the artist getting their fair share. And my purchase of the Sex Pistols belt is less a celebration of 1977 than their later victory against McLaren, which gave them the opportunity to sell their back catalog to Universal Music Group for wads of cash. In a career defined by grandstanding their offensive behavior, selling out to the Man is surely more offensive than anything Sid Vicious ever did — and it’s just a way to create more product for the Marty Allen punk kid, who is now no doubt an older guy like me with a sense of nostalgia, too. He may well have bought the same belt.
Twenty-five years on, there’s probably no telling the difference between us. Two old guys wearing the Sex Pistols belt. Who can tell which of us was the real punk when he was 17 and which was the weird guy living in no fixed subculture? And who cares? I love my belt and I’ll bet he loves his.
You know the best thing about it, though? It holds up our pants — and in an era where oversized pants are everywhere, that’s all that really matters.
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Tags: 1977, Johnny Rotten, Malcolm McLaren, punk rock, Sex Pistols, Sid Vicious, Star Wars, The Damned
