They say that rock is in decline, that pop, hip-hop, & country reign. But I have recently seen the death & resurrection of rock & punk, all on a Monday night in a packed club in Kentucky. I am definitely in the “punk is not dead” & the “kids are alright” space right now.
I remember how dangerous I felt, when still in high school, going to my first punk shows, as though I had crossed over some invisible bridge into a country not our own, & even though I am now chasing 60 too quickly, in many ways I have never left that alternate universe. I hope these kids feel dangerous, too, or at least fringe & edgy.
Within rock, we are relegated to an ever expanding panoply of sub-genres, & sure, punk & post-punk & the elusive & ubiquitous “indie” or “alternative” all float around, but many groups increasingly make-up their own genres or delineate some back alley niche within a niche that only they & their fanbase fully grok & that rocks.
I could probably do a decent enough job explaining something like emo or shoegaze or jangle, but the better we get at explaining or marketing the angels dancing on the head of this or that pin, the less relevant it all seems, especially when we all just want the endorphins & dopamine & oxytocin.
When I celebrate that punk & post-punk are not dead, I need look no further than Bandcamp & Instagram & music commentary podcasts & all the streaming services. If you like one thing, you can find similar artists easily enough & pretty sure you’re down ten rabbit holes of wonder & wow. Before you know it, you’re skimming Reddit subs & Facebook groups & blogs that serve up discussions & respond to queries, & if you’re at all online, you are not alone.
Pretty sure that it was a podcast (probably Indiecast) that introduced me to Chicago’s Lifeguard. Having worked in higher-ed for almost 30 years & now stuck in a mostly Dad rock/folk/Americana corner, it’s wild to listen to rockers the age of most of my students that are not trying the singer-songwriter thing, that unleash the energy & the danger that first drew me to the punk clubs when I was still in high school. This trio are so young, they have to arrange their touring schedule around school commitments. They are descendants of 70s & 80s punk with a keen sensibility for the cultural milieu in which their vibe resides, printed fanzines included.
I’ve read reviews of Lifeguard that make me get goosebumps because good rock writing is still a thing, reviews by rock critics probably much younger than me, with better grasps of the musical precisions that make discordant noise so revelatory, writers with vast vocabularies to nail down what seems like an unfair amount of passion, enthusiasm, charisma, & good looks. Seeing Lifeguard now has the feeling of being there before it all blows up, & I hope it does blow up. But listening to an interview with the band on the way to the show, they are all going to college & keeping their options open & limiting tours to their academic breaks. I don’t know if they are straightedge or anything, but as far as I could glean, they were completely clean for this show, substance wise, & this in no way takes away from the pure authenticity of what explodes so gloriously from the stage. Rock & punk will never die with kids like this caring for the lineage. Gratefully, I am not the only Gen X person in the crowd, but most of the audience have sharpied Xes on their hands, if that tells you anything. I don’t feel like a chaperone either, just a privileged guest.
It’s a Monday night in Louisville, Kentucky, & more than 200 people have gathered out-past their weeknight-bedtimes to bask in the guitars, bass, & drums so loud as to rearrange our inner realities. I arrive just a few minutes after start time & Plastics are already holding the room aloft & alive. Looking at the bill, I am thrilled to see that this old-school revival includes un-Google-able band names. Looking at the stage, we immediately notice that its vibes convey a happening as much as a show. Absolutely no traditional stage lights are washing the performers, but house lamps are everywhere on the stage. Add to that, there are about ten (I should have counted) old televisions across the front of the stage, showing coordinated random archival footage. Later, thanks to some stroke of genius & a camera-person down front, the TVs will show the bands while they perform. The drum kit is also front & center. Punk & noise & an arty aesthetic are all so late 80s, early 90s, so much my life back when, I am pinching myself in the time machine that these are all young folks rocking this surreality.
Because the group PARKiNG are from Louisville, they are at the top of the bill tonight, supporting an album release, though they are Lifeguard’s support for the rest of the tour. The album PORTRAiTS is on Bandcamp of course, but tonight it is a cassette on sale for $7 at the merch table, & the cassette sells out & is sold next to the bass player Lizzie Cooper’s gorgeous & gritty print punk ‘zine Test Patterns. When the sound-person was adjusting some cords between bands, I asked who was responsible for the elaborate setting, & it was definitely PARKiNG.
I got myself here for Lifeguard & their 40 minutes in-no-way disappoints, keeping me rapt & revived the entire time. Isaac Lowenstein’s more-than-intense drumming rattles my tired-old-bones with perfect profundity while Kai Slater & Asher Case trade riffs & licks & vocals. I was filled to overflowing & it being a Monday night on the road, I thought about leaving early. I am so glad I didn’t.
Early Sonic Youth might be one hope for a referent for PARKiNG, but they are almost like nothing I have ever seen or heard, though they also remind me of many trippy late nights in Detroit’s Corridor hood more than 30 years ago, communal & arty & visual & loud & weird. Loud & soft, fast & slow, from song to spoken word, singing-drummer T. Moore has so much versatile vision that I am simply gobsmacked.
Where are we? What year or planet is this? One song starts so slow with stand-up bass & cello from the wings, all the crazy-looking kids are suddenly sitting like church youth group or yoga class but they are spastic moshing before its over. People who dismiss noise-&-drone-type things have not really grasped the extensive musical genius that goes into something like this, but as I bask & the mind bends & melts, it’s clear to me that PARKiNG are curating a multi-modal multi-sensory totally-human full-immersion experience.
Before we know it, PARKiNG have played their album in its entirety & it’s almost 11pm eastern time & time to go home. But before I can blink or exhale, all three bands & about a dozen more friends are all crammed on the stage. Remember, I said communal? This is suddenly like the Last Waltz or the filming of John & Yoko for Give Peace A Chance or some holy moley hip shizzle. The version of Lou Reed’s “Sweet Jane” includes & baptizes us all & I am in complete gratitude & awe. I have seen rock destroyed & revitalized at a funeral & baptism so brimming with energy that I forget that I am the dad-rock outlier at these Monday night dangerous devotions by the next generation of outsider genius. Wow.
-Andrew/Sunfrog, wandering around America catching shows, July 2025
-Andrew/Sunfrog, wandering around America catching shows, July 2025
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