I never had it confirmed while working there, but I remember discussing a theory with a co-worker at TIME Magazine many years ago that when sales were ever flagging, all they needed to do was put Jesus on the cover, and copies of the magazine would fly off newsstands as if by divine providence. Sure enough, take a look at the cover arc of any given year of TIME, and you'll certainly see a preponderance of ol' J.C.'s face, which is somewhat surprising when you consider that there really hasn't been any actual news about Jesus for a couple of thousand years, give or take. Although, I'm told by some that he's comin' back.
Similarly, SPIN magazine (where I interned back in the dark days of 1989) seems to regularly exhume the punctured and putrid remains of Punk Rock, almost guaranteeing that uptight oldsters, self-appointed rock historians and pedantic purists like myself fork over the four dollars and fifty cents just so we can get all agitated. I remember their first Punk commemorative issue in 1986. Debbie Harry was on the cover and inside were oodles of authoritative articles by folks like Legs McNeil (then a staffer), Richard Hell and John Holmstrom. It was pretty cool, and I still have my copy somehwere. I seem to recall a piece in that issue that culled a roster together of where all the Punks had ended up. It seemed like a weighty list, and that was only after ten years (if you bought their math).
Over the years, SPIN's continued this trend -- ironically further commemorating a genre that vehemently strove to dismantle rock commemoration. Timed to yet another Sex Pistols reunion, SPIN have recently unveiled an issue harkening back to 1977, arguably the "Year Zero" for all things conventionally regarded as Punk. I won't lie -- it's not a bad issue. Apart from one lamentable oversight (page 70 shows a picture of a band that SPIN would have you believe is Wire. It most assuredly isn't), the issue is chock full of decent articles, including the peerless Jack Rabid's interview with arguable Punk archetype and consummate wind-up merchant, Johnny Rotten, who vociferously asserts that the Ramones and the Clash weren't Punk (then later going on to say he didn't approve of the term "Punk" to begin with). Really, ya gotta love Johnny -- and there's simply no arguing with the greatness of the `Pistols -- but come on now.
To SPIN's credit, despite giving Rotten the cover and billing their talk with him as "the Ultimate Interview," the New York crew get representation from Blondie's Chris Stein, Handsome Dick Manitoba of the Dictators, Tommy Ramone, Richard Lloyd of Television and a couple of others. Grizzled celeb-chef, Anthony Bourdain (yes, a self-styled bad boy, but a damn entertaining one) is even treated to the last word with an essay at the back of the book recounting his days as a CB's regular in the heady, dangerous days of NY77. If you're a fan of this stuff as I am, it's good readin'.
For what it's worth, in 1977, I was ten years old. I was in Mr.Kober's class in the fifth grade and invariably more concerned with Darth Vader, Kiss and the Micronauts than Richard Hell or Dee Dee Ramone. I cannot claim to have been present when Punk's first "shot heard round the world" rang out. But I still know my history. As a long-time member of The Gathering (an online discussion group regarding my beloved Killing Joke), there's been an endless argument regarding the origins of Punk Rock, and it usually involves little ol' me against an army of obstinate Brits. While I'll even concede that most of my favorite bands are British (I'll take the Buzzcocks over Suicide every time, and don't even get me started on Patti Smith), the fact remains.
Sorry, Johnny, Punk Rock was born here in the U.S.A. And you know it.
And just as a last parting shot ---- lending your music to a video game doesn't strike me as especially Punk.
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