It’s too easy to by cynical. It’s too easy to sigh wearily and suggest that all the good stuff is over, and you missed it. I should know, as I could be credibly accused of spinning a yarn to that effect here for the past fifteen years. There’s a pronounced downside to nostalgia in that it can cloud your appreciation of the things that are still around. There’s also the cruel cliché about being “the old guy in the club.” Nobody wants to see that guy, let alone be that guy.
But I attended an event on Sunday that kicked both of those concepts squarely in the groin with a steel-toed Doc Marten.
On Sunday, filmmaker Drew Stone – whose work I’ve tried to evangelize here on numerous occasions – brought "Maximum Penalty," an installment of his “Back to the NYHC Roots” series, right back to its origin, specifically the old A7 space, which is now the rear chamber of Jesse Malin’s Niagara at 112 Avenue A. Drew has been making events like this happen for a while now, but this was one I especially felt I had to attend, as it featured a set by End of Hope, the latest endeavor fronted by Davey Gunner, former lead singer of one of my favorite-since-high-school outfits, KRAUT. Clearly, sitting this one out was not an option.
Much like with Stone’s 10 Questions series (which I waxed rhapsodic about here not too long back), despite the arguably pugnacious reputations of various NYHC luminaries, the atmosphere at Sunday’s sprawling showcase – also featuring sets by The Last Stand, South Class Veterans, Gorilla Glue and a Beastie Boys tribute called – of course – Posse In Effect (which I very regrettably missed) – was nothing short of entirely positive and convivial, even when things got very spirited on the dance floor.
I can’t honestly place a timestamp on the last time I saw Davey Gunner perform, but it might have been at a Kraut reunion show opening for GBH at the New Ritz on 54th Street. The most recent band he’d been performing with, prior to End of Hope, was an ensemble called Bowhead, who were practicing a burly, heftily metallic blend of heavy rock. Within the ranks of End of Hope, however – also featuring guitarist Ken Wohlrob, bassist David Schlechter and hot-shit drummer Dave Richman – Gunner & Co. wasted precious little time in whipping proceedings into a frenetic fury, hearkening back to the generation of bands who made that room hardcore’s ground zero, decades ago -- which had the capacity-crowd (lots of big dudes in a tight space) suitably roiling in approval.
Beyond the formidable skills of the band – a blistering by-their-own description amalgam of Motorhead and Black Flag – and Davey Gunner’s ageless exhorting (what’s the secret, Davey?), one of the most remarkable elements of Sunday’s show was the spectrum of attendees.
On the one hand, the walls of the joint were lined with dutifully black-t-shirt-bedecked oldsters (like, er, myself), emphatically nodding, headbanging, air-guitaring and grinning approvingly, but what really brought the event to that proverbial next level were …. the kids! For all my moaning about today’s youth, here was this battalion of freshly minted punk kids who were legitimately tearing it up in the pit like we were back in the mid-80’s. And this was no Sum 41 shit, either. These young folk seemed as genuinely invested in this music, this ethos, this scene as anyone else in attendance. When the imposing profile of John Watson – longtime NYHC legend, original Agnostic Front vocalist and bona fide circle-pit pioneer (if you’ve ever “moshed” at a show, you should probably send John a royalty check) waded into the fray (prompting even a bemused quip from Gunner), it was clear that this was no fluke.
Once again, hats off to Drew Stone for not only making this event and others in the series happen and keeping the spirit alive, but for handily demonstrating that it’s not simply about nostalgia. This is happening now. Get involved!
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