Book Reviews

MRR #432 “¢ May 2019

Mierda de Bizkaia Andoni FernÁ¡ndez Azkarai

«Dicen que el tiempo pone a cada uno en su sitio, pero igualmente podemos pensar que el tiempo es un tanto canalla y que en esta vida rara vez se hace justicia.» —Andoni FernÁ¡ndez Azkarai, autor de Mierda de Bizkaia.

Bizkaia, mierda, rock’n’roll. Con un punto de partida limitado Mierda de Bizkaia es, sin embargo, un ejemplo de historia social que va mÁ¡s allÁ¡. Es historia desde los mÁ¡rgenes de la sociedad, narrada por aquellasvoces rechazadas por el discurso oficial triunfante. Voces disonantes con el relato engaÁ±oso que se estaba formando. Voces desafinadas yafÁ³nicas también, pues gritaron y pelearon por existir bajo sus propias normas. Sin normas. Sus protagonistas se dejaron la piel y aquellos que sobrevivieron alzan la voz de nuevo para expresar su verdad.

A estas alturas Eskorbuto, Vulpess o MCD son bandas conocidas allÁ­ donde hay punks, en todo el mundo. No son éstas las protagonistas de Mierda de Bizkaia. EstÁ¡n presentes, pero en boca de otras desconocidas. AquÁ­ hablan las olvidadas. Aquellas bandas que vivieron el surgimiento del punk en Euskadi pero no llegaron a producir un vinilo. Algunas ni siquiera una maqueta.

No esperéis nuevos Á­dolos que adorar. Yo he odiado a mÁ¡s de uno de los personajes que habitan estas pÁ¡ginas. Da igual. Todos ellos forman una historia conjunta, contradictoria, cruda, honesta y apasionante. Nos confÁ­an su intimidad y muestran el retrato de una generaciÁ³n enconflicto contra todo.

Bizkaia es una de las tres provincias oficiales de Euskadi (noentraremos aquÁ­ demasiado en la cuestiÁ³n nacional), en el norte del opresivo estado espaÁ±ol. En los aÁ±os de explosiÁ³n del punk es una regiÁ³n castigada por el paro y la crisis econÁ³mica. Experimenta, como el resto del territorio espaÁ±ol, una lenta mutaciÁ³n de sistema polÁ­tico tras la dictadura fascista, sacudida por un fuerte movimiento obrero y la actividad armada de ETA y Comandos AutÁ³nomos Anticapitalistas.

Es impensable que el punk, nacido del rechazo, se mantenga al margen de las tensiones sociales del momento. MÁ¡s aÁºn cuando las fuerzas del orden acostumbran a cachear aleatoriamente, detener, golpear y robar a los jÁ³venes punks. Eran la gran mayorÁ­a de ellos de clase obrera luchadora. Gente que sufrÁ­a en sus barrios y sus familias el acecho de la crisis y la explotaciÁ³n. Manu, del grupo NPI, deja claro porqué habÁ­a tanto punk en su ciudad: «Eskorbuto lo dijo en tres palabras: paro, miseria y humillaciÁ³n.»

Los primeros punks vascos no pueden viajar a Londres el fin de semana, no van a fiestas de la alta sociedad. Desprecian la movida madrileÁ±a. Ellos montan sus equipos con piezas robadas, auto- construidas o improvisadas. «Mira, nosotros Á­bamos a las cabinas telefÁ³nicas, reventÁ¡bamos el telefonillo y nos cogÁ­amos los altavoces. Esos se los ponÁ­amos a las guitarras espaÁ±olas y con dos cables lo enchufÁ¡bamos al radiocasete que le pillaba a mi hermano mayor. SubÁ­amos el volumen a tope y distorsionaba la guitarra.» (Javi, de Kiskillas Farrangosas)

De su vida cotidiana nacÁ­a un espÁ­ritu rebelde incontrolable. «Entusiasmo y las ganas de cambiar. Nosotros quisimos hacer la revoluciÁ³n aunque no tenÁ­amos ni idea de qué era la revoluciÁ³n. Nosotros sÁ³lo la vivÁ­amos y la sentÁ­amos.» (Aitor, de DeserciÁ³n). Una entrevista tras otra se nos desvela la cara oculta de los aÁ±os ochenta. Casi no hay rastro de la esperanza pasada, el futuro no existÁ­a pero el presente se vivÁ­a intensamente. Guerra sucia, drogas, violencia, machismo, las primeras okupas, insumisiÁ³n, lucha polÁ­tica, creatividad…todo se mezcla.

Hay peleas pero también hay mucho apoyo. Los mayores enseÁ±ando a tocar a los jÁ³venes y haciéndoles un hueco. La necesidad de unirse para okupar un espacio y hacérselo propio, llevarlo adelante, enfrentarse a la policÁ­a, a los fascistas y a la clase polÁ­tica. Curiosamente, la mayorÁ­a de las personas entrevistadas consideran el momento actual peor que entonces y con un futuro mÁ¡s incierto.

¿Qué nos dejÁ³ todo aquello? Nos dejÁ³ su voz y una cultura creada a golpes y pedazos. Una cultura que agoniza si no se reinventa, si no se nutre con la aportaciÁ³n de cada una de nosotras. Éste es un trabajo fascinante y Andoni lo ha realizado con sus propios medios, por la pura pasiÁ³n de descubrir y dar a conocer el punk marginal de Bizkaia. AdemÁ¡s, nos brinda la oportunidad de deleitar y destruir nuestros oÁ­dos en mierdadebizkaia.bandcamp.com con grabaciones rescatadas de muchas de las bandas entrevistadas. Pero no sÁ³lo eso, Mierda de Bizkaia ha animado a otras personas a recuperar la historia de sus respectivas regiones. Y eso nos alegra profundamente. Gipuzkoa serÁ¡ la siguiente. Eskerrik asko.

– – – – –

“They say that time puts everyone in their place, but it’s just as true that time is a cruel bastard, and in this life justice is rarely served.” —Andoni FernÁ¡ndez Azkarai, author of Mierda de Bizkaia.

Bizkaia, shit, rock’n’roll. Despite its small starting point, Mierda de Bizkaia is a social history that goes further. It’s history from the margins, narrated by voices rejected by mainstream discourse. Voices that dissent from the deceitful history that was being written at the time. Hoarse, off-pitch voices that screamed and fought to exist on their own terms, or without any terms. Its protagonists fought with everything they had, and those that survived are raising their voices again to express their truth.

These days, Eskorbuto, Vulpess, and MCD are well-known groups in every punk scene on Earth. But those aren’t the protagonists of Mierda de Bizkaia. They appear, but in tales told by nobodies. In this book, the nobodies, the forgotten, are the speakers: bands that lived during the punk boom in Euskadi but never managed to stamp their existence onto vinyl. Some of them didn’t even record a demo.

Don’t hope for any new idols here. I hated more than one of the characters who lived in these pages. Doesn’t matter. All of them make up a shared history, contradictory, crude, honest, and impassioned. They confide in us, and together they make up a portrait of a generation in conflict with everything. Bizkaia is one of the three official provinces of Euskadi (we won’t get too deep into the Euskadi nationalism question here), in the northern part of the oppressive Spanish state. At the end of the 1970’s it was in the midst of an economic crisis, and that’s when punk blew up. Like much of Spain’s territory, it experienced the slow mutation of the political system after the fascist dictatorship, shaken by a strong labor movement and the armed rebellion of ETA and the Comandos AutÁ³nomos Anticapitalistas (CCAA).

It’s unthinkable that punk, born of renunciation, would stay on the sidelines of this social movement. Especially when the forces of order were accustomed to detaining, frisking, beating, and robbing young punks. The majority of them were part of the working-class struggle, people who suffered the lurking crisis and exploitation. Manu, from the group NPI, has no doubt about why there was so much punk in his city, “Eskorbuto said it with three words: unemployment, misery, and humiliation.”

The first Basque punks couldn’t travel to London for the weekend; they didn’t go to high society parties. They spurned la movida madrileÁ±a. Their equipment was built from stolen parts, DIY’ed and improvised. “We went to phone booths, broke the handset and stole the speakers. We put those in Spanish guitars and connected it to a cassette player that my big brother had. We turned the volume up all the way to get that distorted guitar sound.” (Javi, from Kiskillas Farrangosas)

From daily life an uncontrollable rebel spirit was born. “Enthusiasm and the urge for change. We wanted a revolution even though we had no idea what a revolution would be. We simply lived it and felt it” (Aitor, from DeserciÁ³n). One interview after another reveals the hidden side of the 1980s: there is almost no trace of hope, the future didn’t exist, but the present was intense. Dirty war, drugs, violence, machismo, the first squats, draft-dodging, political struggles, creativity…everything mixed together all at once.

There were fights, but also support. Older punks taught youngsters how to play and made space for them. Collaboration was necessary to squat a space, make it their own, take it forward, face the police, the fascists and the political class. Curiously, the majority of the people interviewed consider the current moment to be worse than those times, with a more uncertain future.

What does that leave us with? With their voices and a culture created by blows, from bits and pieces. A culture that dies if it doesn’t reinvent itself, if it isn’t supported by a collective effort. This is a fascinating project, and Andoni has done it on his own, discovering and sharing the forgotten punk of Bizkaia. Many of the rescued recordings from the interviewed bands are put online, to enjoy and destroy our ears, at mierdadebizkaia.bandcamp.com. Mierda de Bizkaia has encouraged others to rescue the history of their scenes, and that makes us very happy. Gipuzkoa will be next. Eskerrik asko.

(Review translated to English by David Corkle)

We Are The Clash: Reagan, Thatcher, and the Last Stand of a Band That Mattered Mark Andersen and Ralph Heibutzki

We Are The Clash: Reagan, Thatcher, and the Last Stand of a Band That Mattered picks up where most Clash histories end: The US Festival, 1983. Financed by Apple co-founder, Steve Wozniak, The US Festival was a last grasp towards some confused idea of corporate hippie values. The Clash played with a new drummer, having sacked Topper Headon ostensibly over a heroin addiction. Mick Jones, guitarist, and co-founder, who was about to experience a similar fate in a power struggle with Joe Strummer and their on again-off again manager and co-founder, Bernie Rhodes.

Strummer leaned on his microphone and barked at the crowd, “I suppose you don’t want to hear me go on about this and that and what’s up my ass.” He moved off the mic and took on a new persona, “Try this on for size, Well, Hi everybody. Ain’t it groovy. Ain’t you sick of hearing that for the last 150 years.’”

By 1983 the Clash had “broke” in America with two hits off of the Combat Rock album. One had been, largely, played by Topper Headon and the other was written by Mick Jones. In the wake of their departure, Strummer doubled down on the key contradiction of the Clash. “Get the message out to as many people around the world as possible,” as their roadie, The Baker, puts it in the book. “without having that message watered down to puerile pop nonsense.” This was something the Clash hardly succeeded at during their tenure with concerns of hit records under the pressure of a recording company to whom they owed a large amount of debt.

In a sense, a new Clash was formed in the wake of the Jones/Headon departure. Two new guitar players and a new drummer along with the steadfast bassist, Paul Simonon and Strummer taking the lead singer slot. On bootlegs and a collection of early demos, The Clash Mark II emerges as a very solid band, although more like the best Clash tribute band ever than anything else.

It should be noted that before John Mellor became Joe Strummer, he was nicknamed Woody, after Woody Guthrie. That influence of folk music, not just of the Depression Era America but from around the world had a great influence on Strummer. He placed importance more on the integrity of the song’s message than the talent of the songwriter. This idea becomes very real during the Clash’s last tour where they busked in the streets of England with nothing but a few acoustic guitars and a pair of drumsticks (and a few hidden credit cards). As the novelist Tony White wrote at the time, “There were no ads in the music press… no press releases…no publicity campaigns…or photo ops…neither were there tour t-shirts, posters, or merchandise of any kind.”

Meanwhile, Ian McGregor became the director of the National Coal Board, under Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher. As the head of British Steel, McGregor has laid off over half of the steelworkers, from 166,000 down to 71,000 jobs. This was just the kind of efficiency that Thatcher sought. “Steel had been, up to that point, one of the pillars of the British economy since the Industrial Revolution,” the two writers point out, “Still there was one commodity that was even more fundamental: coal.” In due course, McGregor began to cut jobs and close coal mines according to a “death list.”

At a conference for the National Union of Mineworkers, their leader, Arthur Scargill, issued a “call to action”: “We can give in and watch social destruction and repression on a truly horrific scale… or we can fight back.” So it was that the miners went on strike for over two years. A number of mines on the death list never reopened and most of the miners never went back to work.

The back and forth writing takes the reader from the Clash Mark II story to Thatcher, McGregor, and the miners, to Reagan’s policies in America and in a larger sense, the Cold War. The Clash as the centerpiece, with a macroscopic few of global politic, mirrored by the struggles inside the Clash and their management, and the microscopic with Joe Strummer’s own internal struggle.

The writers, Mark Andersen, and Ralph Heibutzki are an interesting pair. They have been “Archiving clippings and puzzling over unanswered questions,” since hearing of the band’s breakup in 1986. Andersen, as the reader may know, is a luminary of the DC scene he co-founded Positive Force during Revolution Summer and later detailed this period in a book: Dance of Days: Two Decades of Punk in the Nation’s Capital. More recently he has co-founded We Are Family DC which, according to their website, “mobilizes a committed corps of volunteers to reach out to isolated inner-city seniors with free services, advocacy, and companionship.” Andersen also interviewed Joe Strummer in 1989 about Clash Mark II and this book is the first time any of that material has been used.

Heibutzki is a musician and writer from Michigan who has written for DISCoveries and Goldmine. The afterword states he was one of the first journalists to interview the three new members of Clash Mark II. This is his second book after The Life and Times of Danny Gatton.

I imagine it’s no mistake that Andersen/Heibutzki wrote this book now, in an era of post-“neo-liberal”/”neo-conservative” politics in America and the disaster of Brexit in England. The shadows of Thatcher, Reagan, and The Cold War are cast all too close to our feet. With that in mind, and this might be beating a dead horse, but our current president and Reagan used the same campaign slogan: Make America Great Again.

The Clash may have not been the best example of integrity in the music world with their careerist opportunism but their message of hope and possibility, cribbed from Reggae and Soul music, is all too important, and borrowing Nixon’s re-election slogan, “Now more than ever.”

Tomorrow Is Too Late Derek Emerson and Shawn Chirrey

Holy crap! This book tears at the eyes and dares you to take hold of it. No corners cut on the production end of this project and this is evident the moment you take it in your hands. The details and attention put into this project needs mention, the authors/designers went all out and were meticulous on how this project was going to look. The print and layout were treated with care and love. The fore-edge of the book even has the title printed on it just to remind the reader that they fucking care. A labor of love is an understatement; it is obvious that it was an inside job rather than a study from some anthropology department.

If you were lucky enough to get the first edition of this book you will know that a killer 7″ came as part of the deal. While the second edition does not have the record, it does include a poster and postcards.

Punks were clearly invested and the result is a sort of hyper-zine on a bag of speed. This is not an easy read—meaning you can get so lost in this book. I am finding that I cannot jump around like one normally does with many books, you will get lost in the labyrinth, it is best to take in a page at a time. There are chapters; then you realize there are sub-chapters. This is in-and-out Toronto Hardcore, not just bands, venues, zines, but also record shops, radio shows, sub-scenes, specific shows and attendees recollections of that night. The book even looks a bit into issues such as animal rights and Queercore as these expressions or ideologies took hold in the TO punk scene.

This is a comprehensive “stare” into the shift from punk to hardcore as it was interpreted by the newer breed of punks coming from Toronto, exiting the seventies. It is said that for Toronto it began with an anti-nuke rally/show that did not go as smoothly as planned. From this date on, everyone near enough to punk felt something was coming, a change. 1980 hit and punk started to speed up, things got aggressive, the music, life, the world, the attitude, and the times definitely changed. Tomorrow Is Too Late chronicles this change as it was channeled through numerous bands, zine editors, show promoters, and key players that all took part in making those changes happen. This book is an absolute must to add to the growing list of books that give the world a bigger picture of what punk was and continues to be.

Burning Down the Haus: Punk Rock, Revolution, and the Fall of the Berlin Wall Tim Mohr

Tim Mohr’s deep dive into the punk movement of East Germany from the twilight of the ’70s, through the penultimate fall of the devilish wall dividing the nation, is a heavy and captivating read. Mohr follows the travails of punks of all ages feeling their way through this new vehicle of opposition via the music, fashion, and a nascent vision of a self-made utopia.

We all know the story and history of punk rock in the States unless you’ve opened this rag unceremoniously in the john of a friend’s house or a trip to the local tattoo shop. Our cozy coalition of like-minded souls obsessed with flash bolt guitar riffs and a thunderous rhythm of low-end bass and trap slapping with an enormous crash cymbal to keep our ever-wavering attention. While some like to skate and surf, some like drugs others stay obsessively clean, some come to fight the power, still, others dig the clothes and other outward tokens of non- conformity—the underlying theme is actually inclusivity.

That’s not an attempt to place punk in a box. I’ve always fancied itmorealifestylethanamusicgenremyself.It’sfarmorethanafew chords at breakneck speed with spitfire lyrics. When used correctly the power is astounding. Whether it’s a crowd moving in a wave of inexplicable beauty from the pit to the back of the house, chaotically poetic and unnerving, or a political gathering, either in favor or against the grain, the message is unity. Individuality is encouraged but only to ultimately come together to form the larger mosaic, the true masterpiece.

In the United States, we’re able to carry on in this fashion. Sure, there may be some parental push back or that tightwad principal who incessantly finds a reason to detain you post-school hours based on your hairstyle or t-shirt choice but other than a few fights here and there, that’s a pretty accurate summation of a punker’s opposition in the States. Mohr’s various protagonists risked whatever version of “freedom” or lack thereof that was possible in East Germany during those divided days. Pirate radio stations and those powerful enough from the West to be tuned into by impressionable East German youth, if only long enough to hear a few measures of this voracious form of music that was like audible beacons of light. Light that could be taped and traded and more importantly emulated.

Soon these kids found ways to keep up with all things punk. Sham 69 and the Sex Pistols were just what the doctor ordered—guitars were sought, defiant poetry was ecstatically labored over, a search of things to bang on percussively was often quenched with pots, buckets, and empty suitcases. Whatever it took to make it happen for themselves until proper gear was found.

The DIY aesthetic was underway just like it was in the U.S. with drastically more dangerous repercussions. The government’s secret police force was known as the Stasi, short for Ministry for State Security. The only thing they ministered was socialism; people leading a normal life of daily employment, going home after work, and conforming to the rules of the State. Hell-bent on psychological control and herding the sheep, the Stasi was immediately intimidated by the punk movement. Who would dare dress such a way and skip work to hang out at safe spaces, mostly churches with sympathetic caretakers who would provide spaces to cultivate this new and exciting form of protest?

These churches served as party spots and live music venues, basically as a church of punk in the off hours. Punks could congregate, listen to music, wax poetic on books and political misgivings, and create their own art. Safety was in numbers. It’s when events dispersed that the punks were subject to Stasi harassment. Daily beatings and interrogations were the norm. Punks were risking life and limb for the movement quite literally. Mohr provides tireless details and stories that are equal parts inspiring as heartbreaking. This wasn’t a movement of just music and protest, this was an attempt at breaking the socialistic norms, standing ground with guttural beliefs while being imprisoned and tortured, beaten down and (almost) silenced. Mohr’s subjects were true heroes and revolutionaries, their unwavering gusto seemingly mythological but these are true tales.

As things grew with the DIY movement and more bands came along so did the classic ruse of Stasi informants. Embedded punks, fellow squatters, employers, and even family members were suspect. No one could be trusted and resistance was futile—all of this fuel for the fire of resistance. The movement became more than the music and a way to speak their truest thoughts, most of these kids became political prisoners and then ultimate resistance warriors steering the course and never wilting against the state until the wall was destroyed as were the diabolic ideologies of the East German government.

There is so much more to the story that is best told through the prose of Tim Mohr who was able to gain an inside look by working with East German punks who were there to write this book. A book that is steadfast and true, authentic and addicting, a true punk telling the actual “greatest story ever told.” The powers that be are not always right, systems were made to be bucked and this is the blueprint as to take heed Americans young and old, we may need this sooner than later…

“We are the people, we are the power; don’t die in the waiting room of the future.”