There are very few things left in life that make me intoxicated with joy. Bad Religion is one of them. I’m not going to pretend to be cool and say I wasn’t totally excited to see the band that helped me through my teenage years of dark and brooding depression. I’m going to confess to being totally blown away that I got to go to the show, take photos of the band kicking it on stage and, oh yeah, talk to them.
On Saturday, March 16, the Southern California group whose frail roots started in a young man’s basement back in 1980 strolled into our town.
With over 20 years of touring and 12 studio albums under their belt, and so many bloody songs that have shaped and revolutionized the very essence of punk rock, you could say they’ve been around.
The Varsity sat down with Bad Religion guitarist Greg Hetson to talk about the evolution of punk rock music as the band tours to promote their latest album, The Process of Belief [Epitaph].
When asked if groups like Blink-182 fail to live up to the legacy of founding punk bands like Minor Threat, Hetson muses, “There’s just not a lot of diversity in the punk music of today. Everybody thinks they gotta write the silly songs about girls, dating and doing drugs and fucking or whatever. Which is fine—I mean, there are great bands that I love that sing about that, but it seems like everything that’s coming out is like this. Every label is like, ‘I gotta find a bunch of cute punk rock boys with spiky hair.’ And they’re all playing way too fast and going into those stop breakdowns.
“When I first started listening to punk rock, all the bands had a distinct sound. Take the band the Screamers, who were one of the best punk rock bands ever. They had a drummer and 3 guys on stage with synthesizers hooked up to distortion pedals and a singer and it was just…amazing. None of that stuff sounded anything like each other. There was something different out there.”
At this point, the Kool Haus audio staff decide to test out their Chris Sheppard Greatest Hits Volume 289, much to the chagrin of the lads in the band. Fellow guitarist Brian Baker yelps, “Turn that fucking music off!” Hetson is unimpressed.
Still, he responds rather politely to the whole ordeal: “I’m not gonna get up and dance until they play Pink—’cause that’s when I get going! If I was seventeen and heard a song like Pink, I’d buy the album and be like, ‘this is the fucking shit, I’m gonna buy the record and dance to that!’ We’d have a dance party at my house…know what I’m sayin’?”
So begins my (bad) religious experience. I weave through the punk rock kids in their uniform punk rock shirts that make them look like players for a defunct softball team—the only difference being that they’re all too retarded to match up their Dead Kennedys shirts on the same day.
About three hours into the show, the mohawks have wilted in the humid moshing air and all the Blink-182 girls have seen their sparkly mascara run down their face à la Alice Cooper.
The banner rolls out “Bad Religion” and the crowd erupts into hurrahs. I try to maintain a calm exterior (with little success). I’m in the photography gallery with the gawky post-teenage punk rock boys, pumping my fist for my favourite band.
The bouncer eventually taps me on the shoulder and tell me to scram.
Sticking to the formula, the band play a generous mix. New tunes including “Super Sonic” and “Kyoto Now” are intertwined with classics like “I want to Conquer the World,” “Fuck Armageddon this is Hell,” “Generator,” and my absolute favourite song, “Do What You Want.”
This is where I lose it. Hearing the introduction, I mildly freak right the fuck out.
Any coolness I might have portrayed is shucked out of me like a mussel at a Nova Scotian banquet. Ah, the sweet surrender to musical bliss! But no! It doesn’t stop there! We can’t forget Dawn from Syracuse, NY.
Bound in black club gear and dancing like an Electric Circus extra, she has more fire than half the crowd. And although I think she mistook the venue for The Guvernment, she clearly was the punkest girl there, pumping her fist and singing word-for-word with Greg Graffin.
Strolling out into the cold air, my only regret is that I didn’t tell Mr. Hetson that my mom is personally offended by their logo [imagine the non-smoking sign with a crucifix replacing the cigarette]. I can hear her: “Yeah, I know they won’t give a shit that I’m offended. But you tell them anyway, sweetie.”
