#new york punk rock

[nik-nefarious]

[chakazard]

I went to see Patti Smith for the third time, because she is far too important a part of my personal mythology not to. Patti Smith is a guide post on my journey to discover myself. She made the world safe for stubborn awkward clarinet playing poet/rock stars and I may not be in her debt but in some small way follow in these footsteps. She is someone who exudes spirituality with every syllable and then turns around, spitting, declaring that she will not sell her soul to god, furious at the presumption of Jesus that he thought he had the rights to die for her sins! Patti butterflies between genres and genders and media without affixing herself to any of them. Considering the river of influence flows both ways, she exists in the center of the Venn diagram between all my favorite flavors of poetry and rock, the two art forms which speak directly to my soul.

Patti Smith is one of the most dynamic, transcendent, and evocative performers alive, and her powers may have only grown with age. The Field Marshal still leading the charge of rock n roll against the enemies of care and creativity. She opened with Dancing Barefoot, and the sound was a spiritual experience. She commanded energy and attention from everyone in the room and fed it back to us filtered through her voice. Lenny Kaye is still standing to her left after all this time and being one of the coolest fuckers to ever touch six strings. For the first few songs, she seemed ageless and eternal, repeatedly abusing her mic stand and commanding the attention of everyone in the room, (Free Money was twice as loud and fast as the record, and while Lenny and Tony Shanhan sing more lead vocals than you might expect, her voice hasn't lost any of its strength). Patti then had to interrupt the show to change her socks because they were bunching up in her shoes and making her uncomfortable ("I'm not dancing like this because I'm intoxicated, I have a sock problem!") which probably made this the most unique show I have ever attended and I loved it. It was a very human and relatable moment and Patti even made changing her socks seem artistic. She then followed that up with a positively beautiful rendition of Because the Night that brought a tear or two to my eye.

Partway through, Patti took a break and her band ran through a medley of songs about time including an unexpected but delightful Cher cover from Shanahan before the boss came back for the last half of Time Is On My Side. Patti sounded like the oldest being on Earth for a cover of Dylan's One Too Many Mornings and then got possessed by the Spirit of Fucking Itself (which popped into Lenny for a fiery guitar solo, then returned) for an unbelievably vibrant and sexual performance of Ain't It Strange. Afterwards, a cake was presented and balloons were dropped. Let me tell you. Nothing is as blissful or addictive as batting balloons around! It doesn't matter that I'm an adult surrounded by strangers. The excitement I felt whenever a balloon came close enough to hit was such a strangely tangible expression of joy. A blistering cover of the Chamber Brothers' Time Has Come Today gave way to an impassioned rant in which Patti got so invested in screaming to encourage the crowd to DO SOMETHING and make this bullshit world a better place, weaving lines of poetry in amongst primal yells, that she missed a few cues and the segue into People Have the Power. That gave her a sin to ask penance for "for fucking up the last 14 and a half minutes… but in my defense it was 14 and a half minutes of pure unadulterous joy!" (or did she say adulterous?). Her daughter Jesse joined the band to took up residence at the piano and they gave us a rendition of Gloria to shake heaven and Earth. Jay Dee Dougherty gave us a blistering drumming performance that was just as mind-blowing as it was in 1975 and Patti left us with one of the greatest things I have ever heard a human say in person. "People! A new year is coming! Be righteous! Use your voice!

Be good! AND BE REALLY FUCKING BAD!" There's my Patti, the one who sees both sides and that neither one is correct but they are two sides of the same thing. I left amidst the sounds of popping balloons, picked up a copy of Patti's new photography book, and headed back to the train, feeling like I had no fears and no limitations, and if I could only keep this feeling then I would look back a year from now and know that 2023 was one hell of a year, for me and for humanity. I talked to my sister a couple of days later and she said she had a friend who also attended and walked away with the same feeling. It was palpable, walking away from the venue, hearing the odd stomp of a balloon being burst. All people find their best selves in different ways. Patti Smith, as a performer, a poet, a concept, and someone victorious over 76 years on Earth, helps me see mine.

[marian-1122]

The Clash in a New York taxicab , 1982 . 

©️ Dave Hogan/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

[unioncityblues]

Debbie Harry on the set of The Foreigner (1978)

Photographed by Fernando Natalici in East Village, New York City, New York. 1977.

[eternallpast]

Billy Idol in NYC, 1978 🖤

Photo by Roberta Bayley

[nyc-looks]

Airianna, 22

“My New Rocks are my most comfy platforms. My belt is ape leather bondage belt, skirt is thrifted, pants I cut, top is also thrifted and edited and my jewelry is found hardware and collar. Today I wanted to be comfy and inviting towards fall but saying goodbye to summer as well. My style is inspired by punk ideology and hyper-fem blackness.”

Sep 21, 2022 ∙ Chinatown

[soundsof71]

Bjork with Sugarcubes in New York, 1992 Steve Eichner via guardian

[atomic-chronoscaph]

CBGB Club - 1970s

[coolthingsguyslike]

[possible-streetwear]

[nik-nefarious]

[drewbadger68]

Debbie Harry of Blondie in a wrecked car on 6th Avenue and 50th Street in New York City. September 1976.  By Bob Gruen.

[legendarytragedynacho]

Johnny Thunders, Sable Starr & Iggy Pop at CBGB, 1977

📷 Bob Gruen

[unioncityblues]

Debbie Harry and Johnny Thunders at The Village Gate in New York City, New York. August 1977.

Photographed by Bob Gruen.

[ornithorynquerouge]

David Johansen, New York Dolls by Gilles Larrain. 1973

[theunderestimator-2]

Punk Rock Warlord Joe Strummer in spectacular photos by Lisa Haun in New York in 1981, when the Clash played a series of gigs at Bonds International Casino.

"BOND International Casino had seen better days. Initially, a New York dining club during its ’30s pomp, it had since undergone a series of low-rent makeovers. After sitting vacant for several years during the late ’70s, it reopened as a nightclub and music venue - a garish multi-storey disco located in the grit of Times Square. But during three thrilling weeks in summer 1981, Bond’s was the hottest place in New York. It was from here that The Clash pulled off their most audacious coup. “They just took over New York, which is some feat,” recalls DJ and filmmaker Don Letts. “And they did it with style. It was fucking unreal." pocketmags.com/

(via)