Getting better all the time
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft
Greetings from Nowy Targ!
Where the hell is that? It’s a city in Poland about 20 kilometers from Slovakia on the other side of the Tatra Mountains. I’m so tired I’m not really sure how I got here. You’ll have to wait for next week’s update for the details.
First, I want to take you back to the first time I went to Europe when I was fourteen years old.
When I was in the eighth grade one of my best friends moved away. I didn’t have many friends and I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say I was heartbroken. My friend was a Navy brat like me and his father was stationed to the American embassy in Bonn. He invited me to come visit him the following summer. I asked my parents if I could go, but I was positive they were going to say no. Much to my surprise, they actually said yes—with one caveat: I had to pay my own way.
It became evident they gave their permission because they thought there was no way in hell I’d save up that kind of money. I was only fourteen years old, but that really fired me up. I was determined not only to go to Germany but to prove my parents wrong. Long story short: I got my little ass to Frankfurt. (There’s a whole essay there that I’ll save for some other time.)
In order to get to Bonn, I had to fly to Frankfurt, make my way to the train station connected to the airport, buy a ticket, get on the right train, and travel to Bad Godesberg—all as an unaccompanied minor.
Was I terrified?
Hell yeah.
Were my parents possibly insane for letting me go?
Definitely.
But I did it and here I am 40 years later still catapulting myself into the unknown. Thank you, fourteen-year-old Jimmy. I owe you a lot.
That first trip to Frankfurt was very much on my mind as I disembarked my flight from Barcelona and descended to the train station underneath the airport. From there I followed a very precise set of instructions (thank you Jan!) and bought a train ticket to Konstablerwache where I ascended the stairs and met my host at a café across from the station.
I only spent three nights in the city and one of them was spent writing in a hotel and it was still an incredibly eventful trip. I stayed in the Nordend, which as the name implies is the north end of the city. The neighborhood isn’t too far from the city center, but not quite the suburbs either. It’s somehow both quaint and quasi-industrial.
My hosts were Jan and Andrea who are both long-time contributors to TRUST, a bi-monthly German punk zine that has been in operation since 1986, somehow making it the longest running punk zine in print in the world. Chew on that for a minute. In fact, Jan and Andrea met through the zine.
Their apartment sits directly across from the Frankfurt University of Applied Sciences, which my hosts informed me is where Bad Religion played in 1990 when they came to Frankfurt for the first time. The booker was expecting 300 people and a thousand kids showed up. People were so desperate to get in they climbed up the drainpipes so they could crawl in the second story bathroom windows. There’s some video of the show here, but it’s very rough.
Why so much enthusiasm? There used to be a massive US military presence in Frankfurt. Back in the 80s and 90s, Jan and Andrea explained, there were always Americans in the audience at punk shows.
Shortly after I arrived, we headed to Zappbar to meet with another punk couple and then we all headed to Batschkapp, which is the German name for the kind of flat cap I and nineteenth century newsboys are so found of. The club has been in existence since 1976 but in 2013 the club was forced to move to a larger venue in the warehouse district.
We went to Batschkapp to see the Buzzcocks and Modern English. The show started very early for a Friday night gig but since I still haven’t recovered from my jet lag—it doesn’t seem fair to jets to call it that at this point—a 7pm start time was fine with me.
Something else I thought was cool: the purchase of a ticket to the show included free public transportation to the gig via bus, tram, or train. It’s amazing what you can do when you have a working public transportation system. Since I arrived in Europe two weeks ago I’ve been in an automobile just three times and two of these trips were taxis two and from the airport.
Modern English opened the show and I only intended to go in for a minute and take a peek but there was hardly anyone inside. The band’s hit, “I’ll Melt With You,” apparently didn’t chart in Germany and every time I asked someone about it, I was met with blank stares.
I thought Modern English was shockingly good. This shouldn’t have been a surprise since it’s still playing with three original members: vocalist Robbie Grey, Gary McDowell on guitar and Michael Conroy on bass. Slick atmospheric post-punk with pop sensibilities. I’m going to have to dig into the catalog.
The Buzzcocks on the other hands have just one original member left, Steve Diggle, who turns 69 next month. It took him a while to get warmed up and after playing a few of the hits plowed through a bunch of newer material. These songs are, perhaps, more suitable for his vocal range, but it’s not what we were there to hear.
When I saw the Buzzcocks at Inland Invasion 2 in 2002 they blew the Sex Pistols off the stage, and they were just as good when they played the El Rey the following summer. I used to think they were the best of all the reformed English bands of the late ’70s. Now?
Well, while it’s clear that Diggle loves performing and brings a great deal of enthusiasm to the show, it’s just not the same. I’m glad I got hear “Autonomy” one last time, but I’m pretty sure I don’t need to hear him do “Orgasm Addict” again.
The next day Jan took me to Sick Wreckords and Lucky Star a couple of Frankfurt record shops where I made some interesting finds. I picked up the Zarkons’ second album, Riders in the Long Black Parade. The Zarkons are essentially the Alley Cats with a different drummer (at least for this album) and an absolutely killer jacket illustration.
The second record I picked up was Chinatown by Naughty Sweeties who were mainstays at Madame Wong’s on the new wave side of the street during the so-called “Chinatown Wars.” The backside of the album features a photo of the front entrance to Madame Wong’s.
I bought some other stuff that I will be gifting so I’m just going to keep it a secret for now.
On Saturday night Jan and Andrea took me to Au: the oldest punk squat in all of Europe. The Au has been in operation since 1983. It’s a massive building that sits on a large parcel of property that includes an auto repair shop, a wood-working shop, and other facilities. Plus, an area for caravans.
Sam, an American from Oakland who plays in the band Scheisse Minelli and used to live at the Au, took me on a quick tour inside the house. I was shocked by how nice it was. If you’ve ever been in a punk house, you have an idea of what I was expecting. This was not that. Some of the appliances are nicer than what I have at home.
Every year Au throws a festival that can accommodate 1,000 punks. The Au club is located behind the main residence and is very small with a capacity of about 100. As much as Jan and Andrea wanted me to see the Au because of it’s historical importance, they had mixed feelings about the bands: Infant Sanchos, a punk synth duo from Berlin, and HC Baxxter a German techno political hardcore one-man-band. Andrea and I were both curious to check them out—yay democracy—so off we went.
Have you ever thought you were prepared for something new and different only to realize you weren’t prepared at all? Welcome to Infant Sanchos.
The video is actually pretty subdued compared to the show, which was intense from start to finish. I loved it so much I’m ready to move to Berlin.
As for HC Baxxter it was more techno than punk, but I’m sure I’d feel differently about that if I could understand the lyrics and I was 30 years younger.
Though it was a much younger crowd at the Au than at Batschkapp, there was easily dozen people in the audience who’d attended both shows, which was encouraging to see. When punks stop caring about the music of today, the movement dies and the scene collapses. We will always have our favorites from the past, but punk is best when it surprises.
You could even say that’s what it’s for.
Speaking of surprises, I stumbled upon this clip of Bad Religion from Germany in 1990. It starts in the middle of a cover of "Shutdown" by the Germs with Brett on drums, Greg on bass, and Jay doing an excellent Darby impersonation. Then someone yells out "Nervous Breakdown," Hetson rips into it, and Greg does an even better impersonation of Keith Morris. I’ve watched it maybe half a dozen times already.
Thanks for reading! Also, thank you for the kind words about last week’s new book announcement. Next week’s Message from the Underworld will recap my adventures in Poland, including a presentation of the Polish edition of Do What You Want at a DIY space in Kraków tomorrow. Programming note: since I’ll be traveling like crazy and offline for a writer’s retreat next week, I’ll be posting next week’s newsletter over the weekend. If you’re a paid subscriber, that means no Orca Alert! this weekend.
If you’re new to Message from the Underworld and you enjoyed this newsletter, you might also like my latest novel Make It Stop, or the paperback edition of Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise & Fall of SST Records, or my book with Bad Religion, or my book with Keith Morris. Message from the Underworld comes out every Wednesday and is always available for free, but paid subscribers also get Orca Alert! on most Sundays. It’s a weekly round-up of links about art, science, and killer whales.
that was a mouthfull! thanks for doing this👍👍
If only every 14 year old kid from the states would visit Europe, eh?
Yeh, tough seeing Buzzcocks these days. I'm all for old punks marching on (ahem), but tough for that unit to go on without Shelley....