Warped,
straightened out

by JOHNSON CUMMINS

Once again, the Vans Warped Tour puts down stakes in Montreal, and once again, I won’t be attending. I suppose if I were a NAMBLA member, this pubescent punk fest would be nothing short of Shangri-La, but being a card-carrying fan of punk rock, it just doesn’t seem to represent me much. Sure, I could grumble about the ever-increasing presence of corporate sponsorship and how the fest’s main objective seems to be bilking clueless teens out of their babysitting money, how it lacks any representatives from punk rock’s current underground or how it even opened its doors to military recruitment groups on its U.S. dates (gasp!). But at this point, I would be shooting fish in a barrel. If the Warped Tour is considered the zenith of punk rock, then you might as well call a Big Mac haute cuisine. To be honest, I could even grumble my way through all the bullshit if there were more than a handful of bands I wanted to actually see. In previous years, I have witnessed Snapcase, Tricky Woo and Rocket From the Crypt decimate Warped crowds, but mainly I was forced to sit through assclowns like Sugar Ray lulling the automatons into a catatonic state.

With the exception of this week’s cover stars Only Crime and Montreal’s bad boys Trigger Effect, there’s nothing really there for anybody who possesses a somewhat knowledgeable grasp of punk rock history (sorry, Bad Religion doesn’t apply, as they tend to be as electrifying as watching golf on TV). History aside, why is there no representation of punk rock’s burgeoning underground (see Fucked Up!, the Regulations, CPC Gangbangs, Jay Reatard, Limp Wrist etc.)? It seems that organizer Kevin Lyman should get down from his shoe-store pedestal, and maybe get out and try to discover bands keeping punk rock alive, instead of his yearly trolling of major labels, Fat Wreck, Epitaph etc., like a drunk trying to pick up a slut at last call. I can guarantee you if he introduced bands like Born Dead Icons to the fest, he would literally freak these kids right the fuck out instead of just placating and sedating with safe and predictable sounds that bring nothing new to the table. If you do insist on going down to Parc Jean-Drapeau this Sunday, remember to bring a tub of sunscreen and enough money to pay the exorbitant prices for water, but if you’re looking for punk rock’s main food groups —danger, blood and vitriol—don’t bother.

For those of us who still love real punk rock, there is a saving grace happening this Friday at Katacombes, when Toronto punks Career Suicide (featuring a member of Fucked Up!) will show us all how it’s done. Adding further ballast to the bill will be the punishing power of Cobra Noir and Brainwreck, and the technical grind-punk of Snake Master, who blew minds a month ago at Barfly, opening for Omegas.

Another show that is not to be missed is at Quai des Brumes tonight, when Boston’s Turpentine Brothers bring back their rock ’n’ roll swagger, alongside the punk rock blast of the Confusers.

See ya in the pit… Jonathan.cummins@gmail.com