We are all born into communities with legacies not our own. The histories of our communities can often be tumultuous and may or may not continue to resonate with us. If you know me, you know that I love punk rock bands and the culture that goes along with it—the spirit of dissent against mass culture, the progressive and inclusive mindset punk rock necessitates, and the spirit of friendship and community that goes along with it. The way I characterize the punk subculture, though, hasn’t been universally true. The values, the sound, and the spirit have all evolved over the years, as we can see in Sam Sutherland’s rock journalism book Perfect Youth: The Birth of Canadian Punk.
Perfect Youth focuses on Canada’s “first wave” of punk in the 1970s and early 1980s, with Sutherland noting many of Canada’s historic firsts (like, for example, having the first band to ever to glue show posters to telephones poles). Each chapter offers a report on the history and significance of particular bands and / or narrows in on a Canadian community and discussed how punk evolved in that place. You can likely predict some of the major cities for punk rock—-Toronto, Hamilton, Ottawa, Winnipeg, Calgary, Vancouver, and so on. Sutherland gives a clear apology for lumping all of the Maritime bands into the same chapter.
I have to admit—I am not a fan of 70s and 80s punk, and so I had few personal connections to the bands Sutherland documents, even in the rare circumstance that I had heard of them (D.O.A., Dayglo Abortions, SNFU). In turn, as Sutherland introduced new bands, I would take to Spotify to do some preliminary listening. I would say that the recordings were, at worst, unlistenable, and at best tolerable. I can’t say I fault the recording industry; technology has come a long way in the last fifty years. That said, I have such a hard time looking past (er…hearing past?) terrible recording quality for the quality of the actual songs. Some of the tunes were a little catchy, sure, but nothing gripped me with the edge I hope for in punk. I guess it’s inevitable that aesthetic trends change and evolve. I’m sure some of the heavy bands I love now will be quaint in fifty years, too.
Sutherland documents a very different punk culture than the one that I’m used to, for better or for worse. Some of the stories are amusing (like bands playing the same 10-song set over and over until someone notices and cuts them off), or intense (the rivalries and riots breaking out at shows), or bizarre (the singer of SNFU throwing an octopus into the crowd, the 222s being funded by the Mafia to record a teeny bop version of a classic French song), etc. Sutherland does have a knack of choosing effective moments to set the stage (as it were) for the punk rock community. There is a lot not to like about early punks, such as the spitting and fighting and violence among crowds, or excessive and deadly drug use, or the sometimes antifeminist or antiLGBTQ+ mindset. But again, times change and I’d like to believe that (most) of the above has diminished in the scene.
What I really love about Perfect Youth and other books like it is how it inspires a sense of community. It captures the energy of outcasts and inspires a sense of community. Sometimes that comes through in anecdotes of small-scale touring or identifying connections between band members (did you know Minor Threat’s Ian MacKaye played in Canadian band The Diodes, for example?). It’s amazing to think about these small connections that explode into something of deep significance—even bands that released one recording fifty years ago are still talked about (and newly available thanks to streaming services). The DIY spirit of these early punk crusaders is infectious; it makes me want to run to the streets throwing up show posters, start a punk zine for the local scene, and hop in and out of bands for the rest of my life.
Sutherland is often able to interview punk legends and include their comments directly in the text, which helps to build that sense of community. For instance, he contacts Chi Pig by calling the bar that he often drinks at and they’re able to talk for a few minutes before they need the business line again. A member of the more contemporary punk band, Fucked Up, is interviewed about working at a prominent Toronto record shop and trading an old punk’s old band’s vinyl for magic mushrooms. Incidentally, Sutherland has a great sense of humour throwing in details like punk persona names.
I think the interview with Ford Pier from D.O.A. is the most resonant quotation for explaining why the scene means so much and is so unique. Sutherland documents the way Vancouverite bands responded to one another, how members of bands would give guitar lessons, and so on. Ford Pier speaks to the idea of fandom, stating that “Most people won’t meet Britney Spears. The thought doesn’t even cross their minds. So how could they be invested in what she says or does?” He compares the fandom for Britney Spears to watching an aquarium. There is no consequence for either of you. Punk rock is different in that you can meet your heroes; they can teach you guitar. There’s more of a personal relationship with the scene and that means that there are consequences for both producer and consumer; they can be receptive to one another, and there’s a kind of magic in that.
When I read a book like this that focuses on niche history, what I really love is how it offers a window into the history of a place. Since I’m most familiar with Toronto, I’ll comment on that city more specifically. Sutherland documents a number of punk shows that took place in the early days of punk. It’s amazing to me how much of that history lives on. For instance, Sutherland documents bands playing at The Horseshoe Tavern and the Rivoli. The historic culture around concerts is pretty incredible, too: lots of bands started as cover bands that would pop out an original or two, but some venues required original music and no covers, which meant that some bands cranked out new tunes over and over and over to make sure they could still play.
When it comes to specific places, I was particularly interested in the chapter on Winnipeg. It’s common knowledge that I believe and am right that Propagandhi is the best band to ever exist, and definitely the best band to come out of Winnipeg. They formed about ten years too late to be covered in this book, though they do get a passing reference as the ongoing legacy of Winnipeg punk. It was interesting to read the interviews with Winnipeg first wave punks talking about the isolation of the place and how it contributed to the creative spirit of the place—and maybe some of the heavier bands documented in the book that have their legacy with bands like Comeback Kid.
The chapter on Calgary was also of particular interest, given that Calgary has a reputation of being conservative, if not regressive—-not receptive to punk culture. Yet, Sutherland challenges that stereotype by talking about the gay-positive and progressive culture in Calgary punk. Calgary and Edmonton stand out as some hallmarks of the earliest punk scenes.
As I mentioned above, I don’t know most of the bands Sutherland discusses. He references The Viletones, The Modernettes, The 222s, The Chromosomes, The Normals, Dub Rifles, Popular Mechanics, Low Life, Stretch Marks, Modern Mines, SNFU, The Diefenbakers, Subhumans, The Dishes, Teenage Head, and more. The Talking Heads and Teenage Head take up huge spaces in the punk landscape, and Sutherland pays special attention to some interesting ‘outcasts’ from the already outcast punk scene, like women and queer folk in music. It’s funny how often the former band members reference how they had no talent and just wanted to play fast and be bombastic. Then, listening to their recordings, it’s like comparing Olivia Rodrigo to Slayer. Sure, there’s a bit of an edge, but it seems surprisingly poppy (although I guess that’s even true for The Ramones). The evolution to be faster and harder is amusing to me when looking back at it with a historical eye.
In that light, the conclusion of the book is of particular interest. Most of the book’s “argument” is that Canada had a valuable role to play in the development of punk rock as a global export. In the conclusion, Sutherland offers a more specific thesis that hardcore music both killed and saved punk rock. As punk became more “mainstream” and acceptable, hardcore emerged to keep the scene underground. At the same time, hardocre became more rigid, enforcing boundaries (often white, cis, hetero male in nature) to continue pushing the boundaries of music away from commercial success. It maintained the punk ethos in one respect while reverting to strange conservatism in another. I think that premise would be worthwhile to explore in a sequel book (although I don’t think that Sutherland has the interest in that particular project).
All things considered, Sutherland’s book was entertaining and informative, despite my lack of personal investment in 70s and 80s punk. But, capturing the DIY and communal spirit of punk rock’s small world is a compelling venture. The enthusiasm is infectious, even when the soundtrack to the book left me feeling a little indifferent. Sometimes the story is what builds the present more so than the artefacts (in fact, many of the songs Sutherland references currently have fewer than 2000 listens on Spotify).
In any case, keep on rockin’ and I’ll see you in the pit. Happy reading!
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