They arguably lacked the spittle-drenched fury of the Sex Pistols or the alleged political acumen of The Clash, but The Buzzcocks were, quite simply, the perfect band. They struck a precise balance between the adrenalized sprint of the purest punk rock and an always-melodic brand of shiny, candy-colored pop. In frontman/guitarist Pete Shelley, they had an adept songwriter who could effortlessly pen shrewdly non-gender-specific lyrics that were immediate, universal and astonishingly nuanced. Simultaneously sweet, pugnacious and irrepressibly catchy, the songs of the Buzzcocks were and will always remain nothing short of total genius.
Pete Shelley died today at 63. I first heard the Buzzcocks courtesy of their deceptively prurient single, “Orgasm Addict,” which prompted me to pick up their seminal (pardon the awful pun) compilation, Singles Going Steady and was instantly smitten by their sharp, funny and inimitable brand of rock ‘n’ roll. One of the most exciting live shows I’ve ever been lucky enough to witness was when the band reformed in 1989 and played the New Ritz on West 54th Street. When the Buzzcocks assumed the stage and burst straight into “Everybody’s Happy Nowadays,” that storied room -- formerly Studio 54 -– burst wide open in a veritable explosion of joy.
I went on to see them several more times, though tapered off in more recent years. Pete was starting to look a little worse for wear and seemed to be less enthused the last time I saw them play at Irving Plaza a few years back. I am saddened I will never get to see them perform again, and heartbroken that yet another musical hero whose songs have meant so much to me since I first heard them several decades ago has left us.
Pour one out for Pete. Go buy every Buzzcocks album you can get your undeserving hands on. Thank me later.
Recent Comments