“But this threat is cathartic, a real
cool time is had by all, and the end is liberation.”
- Lester Bangs,
“Of Pop and Pies and Fun: A Program for Mass Liberation in the Form of a
Stooges Review, or, Who’s the Fool,” 1970
Lester Bangs is
one of my favorite writers. He’s got his problems, definitely. But, the way he
dissects rock n’ roll - its historical legacies, its ridiculousness, and
ultimately youthful, and thus ephemeral, nature - is admirable and refreshing.
An album like the Stooges’ Fun House is
not just an album to him, but a program of mass liberation. For him, rock n’
roll is a way of rediscovering some sort of youthful form of exuberance, the
kind of feeling easily killed by the cynicism that often accompanies old age.
His writing is one of a constant search for an authentic emotional experience
associated with the guttural, impulsive experience of infatuation associated
with hearing a simple, thumping rock song. An attempt to regain those youthful,
utopian visions of the future associated with the early-to-mid 1960s amidst the
bleak economic downturns and hard-drug infested realities that embodied the music
scenes of the 1970s, the period in which the many of his most celebrated pieces
were written.
It’s wild how constant
this quest for utter liveliness is in his writings. It pops up everywhere. In
this sense, his writing shuns any false sense of objectivity. The music he
reviews has a deeply personal significance for him, one that has less to do,
maybe, with the actual substance of the song’s intention and more to do with
what HE WANTS to get out of the song. Of
course, this approach has its potential downsides, as many songs have very
explicit messages and takeaways. That’s fair. But, I think this also reveals
something about sharing art forms with other, sometimes nameless and faceless, persons that I think is important. After enough people have heard a song, is
it really in that writer’s possession anymore? Or, does it become something
bigger, something simultaneously collectivized and individualized, interpreted
by those faceless persons for their own means. I think what’s really neat about
reading Bangs’ musings is that they reveal so much more about albums like Astral Weeks and Fun House that I’d never considered before, albums I’ve listened to
and read about, what seems like, thousands of times. His interpretation,
although distant from the musicians’ own perspective, is one that’s worth
hearing and considering. His excitement for music is nearly as exhilarating as
the music itself. And, as a frequent audience member and music dork myself, It
really makes me appreciate the merits of being a fan.
 |
| Lester Bangs as ABBA fan |
It’s been almost
three years since I’ve been in a band. Sometimes I miss the artistic release of
playing music with friends, but I also find something equally rewarding in watching both
friends and strangers alike rock out from a distance. Sure, there are plenty of
bands I’d rather just be outside smoking a cigarette for, but there’s plenty more
that I feel like I really get something out of by watching and experiencing. I
love interpreting and decoding what’s exactly going on at the show. Like, is
there anything political about a drummer’s style – the way they shun the
conventions of elaborate fills in favor of a simple, plodding beat that
elevates the collective nature of the sound rather emphasizing the musician’s
own personal skill? Who are these chill, yet religious Unitarians? And, why are
they so seemingly down to let punks use their facilities for wild forms of
expression in cities throughout the United States? Do they see some sort of
connection between spirituality and punk rock that I don’t? The constant
questions are great, but so is the infectious nature of the music. That altered
state of consciousness brought on by plodding drum rhythms, sick guitar riffs,
and barely audible vocals slightly emanating from shitty PA speakers is what
keeps me around and interested in spending my weekends at punk shows. This is
something that all music fans experience; yet it is also something that seems
strangely under-discussed.
Punk Rock is a
somewhat confusing environment in which to be a fan because the lines between
the audience and performers are somewhat blurred. Band and audience members are
often friends. They drink beer and smoke cigs together on backyard patios in
between sets at the warehouse and basement spaces that they both often
frequent. It’s somewhat taboo to get over-excited about a band and approach
them with your overflowing praises. They’re there to have a good time too and
no one wants the egalitarian nature of the underground aesthetic messed with
too heavily. To cross these lines too explicitly is referred to as “punishing”
– a phrase I hear musician friends use a lot to connote the experience of being
cornered by an audience member to only experience having their ear talked off –
or, maybe talked AT – about how great their band is for minutes on end. I get
the annoyingness of this inevitable outcome of a good set, but I also want to
assert its importance. Sometimes the obligatory “good set!” comment just seems
insincere. It feels good to get excited about music every once in a while!
 |
| 55,000 Nameless fans with agency at Shea Stadium, 1966. |
If punk is really is as egalitarian as it claims to be, fandom’s importance must be recognized! Yes, everyone should participate - start a band, make a zine, book a show, et cetera - but sometimes it takes a while to work up to that. It’s hard to assert yourself in a scene where everyone seems established or accomplished. Obviously, fandom is a way of working towards participation. Everyone starts as a fan! You need to be inspired to create! But, let’s give the audience a little agency here. Maybe, better yet, it’s a form of participation in itself! That moment of lauding a band’s talents is the one in which the person in the back eagerly watching the music unfold is able to put their own spin on what is happening, explain its importance, and apply it to their experiences. In this sense, a fan’s excitement is not a passive act. We are not simply watching, but experiencing and interpreting. We are not just bobbing our heads along to a band’s song, but USING the band’s song to express something about our ourselves.
 |
| Phil Ochs pays homage to his fans, 1970. |
I guess I wanna
say it’s okay to LOVE a band, even if it is your friends’ project, maybe
especially if it is. We shouldn’t have to feel lame about it because it often
brings new value to songs that have been played probably dozens of times. It’s
what makes artistic expression in a public forum continuous. Musicians would
still in their bedrooms, singing into their 4-track recorders if it weren’t for
us! THE FANS MUST HAVE THEIR SAY!
