All Hail Pussy Riot!

So the verdict has come down: Two years in the clink for the three band members of Pussy Riot, convicted of “hooliganism motivated by religious hatred” for singing their punk prayer, “Mother of God, Cast Putin Out” in an Orthodox cathedral. But of course, in another sense, Pussy Riot have already won, attracting more attention and sympathy from around the globe than all the other thousands of Russians who have been protesting the policies of Vladimir Putin combined.

Pussy Riot also demonstrate the ongoing vitality of punk rock, both as social statement and musical style. The current brouhaha over the band is part of a global phenomenon, the latest in a series of headlines where autocratic societies have attempted to squelch the musical voices of their youth. Last December, the Guardian reported on a drive by the police in Aceh,Indonesia to arrest local punk kids and have them undergo rehabilitation, which involves forcing them to have their hair cut, bathe in a lake, and pray to Allah. In March, the Huffington Post reported that at least 58 emo kids in Iraq had been murdered by Islamic militants, who perceived their lifestyle as “debauched” and potentially gay.  

As depressing as these headlines seem, they are also exhilarating, as they demonstrate that the enthusiasms of the young remain as unquenchable as ever. Green shoots continue to pop up in surprising places. And, some 35-years after its initial wave first took England, New York, and Los Angeles by storm, punk rock remains a potent voice for the voiceless.

I lamented the first great American heavy metal revival in the mid-1980’s, as it was a signal that the early wave of punk had run its course, that the angry young kids coming up behind us had chosen a different soundtrack for their rebellion. But, all these years down the road, it is now clear that contemporary youth cultures are accretive, that almost all of them get recycled, with a new one joining the mix every decade or so. Hippy, punk, rapper, rude boy, you name the subculture and the musical style, they will all return, often with a vengeance, in good time.

Unfortunately, right now, America seems to be recycling 1974. Everyone, even in the supposed “underground,” are grooving to overwrought ballads about the travails of love. It’s ubiquitous. I would point to The Airborne Toxic Event as exhibit number one, encapsulating the highhanded pretentiousness of the current age. I had hoped that long, self-important songs about the tortured relationship between sexual romance and one’s ego had gone out of style with Joni Mitchell. But add a loud guitar and some keyboards to the mix, along with a violin player or two, and you’ve got what amounts to probably 20% of the bands at this year’s Lollapalooza.

Pussy Riot give me faith that today’s kids, at least in some parts of our planet, still have the urgency to shout their yawp to the world, that they have more interesting things to sing about than perceived romantic slights and tawdry love affairs. So all hail Pussy Riot who, at least for the moment, might hold the Clash’s old title as “The Only Band That Matters.”