Flip, Flop & Glide: An Excercise in Post-Punk

February 16, 2008 at 4:27 pm (music)

So there I was, driving downtown and sulking big-time.

I wanted to dance. TO DANCE. All damn week. And you ask where I was driving?? To a “post-punk” party. What the fuck is post-punk, anyway? Anything after 1977? I mean, are we talking Madonna here, or Pearl Jam? Considering the venue, I was certain we were in for a night of nasal, Placebo-like navel-gazing.

So I sulked.

My not-so-subtle hints of cruising by a certain funk and soul-loving bar were not appreciated. But we’re going to the post-punk party, I was patiently reminded. My second suggestion was more enthusiastically received, however. A friend was playing old Greek songs with an electro twist nearby, so went to check it out before post-punking.

Naturally, there was a huge queue. Cursing trendy Athenians, we went next door for a drink while the crowd dispersed.

That was when the sun came out. The moon twinkled and spun, the stars started shooting in unison. (And so on.)

DUSTBOWL were playing!! ( http://www.dustbowl.gr )

I had no idea who they were, but it was obvious what they dug. Beautiful, jangly country music, old-style. A love that I had forgotten, spurned for other genres, suddenly reminded me that the best damn music in the world was written in the 1950s.

The guys and gal were absolutely amazing. They were dressed like the Man in Black down to his retro silver mike. Big George was channeling Johnny Cash’s larynx with the utmost success, and I heard live (LIVE!!!! whoda thunk it?? I certainly didn’t) Folsom Prison Blues and Ghost Riders in the Sky, (I happily raised my hand to his query, are there any cowboys in the audience tonight?)

When they played the theme to Rawhide, I started shrieking, jumping up and down in delight, trying to keep up with Big George who sang it a lot faster than Dan Ackroyd. (Kudos to their amazing drummer.) Country music really brings out the child in me, yet its themes are so blue; that’s where its attraction lies. Who doesn’t love to wallow in gorgeous self-pity with a rollicking beat?

And then came the post-punk moment of the night.

A friend of the band’s came up onstage and sang the Stooges’ No Fun as if he were Johnny Rotten. We pogo-ed accordingly, feeling increasingly as if we were in junior high as the concert progressed. I was in bliss. Big George thought for a bit, and then sung the entire song again, completely straight-faced, rockabilly style.

And you know what? It sounded just right.


1 Comment

  1. DUSTBOWL said,

    Thanks a lot man! Friday night at Soul was an amazing night for us too! Hope to meet you!

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