$cam 69
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Sham 69 persevered through punk rock’s lean years and flew in the face of the rock glitz and poseur punk of their day by reflecting their blue-collar audience, dressing down in boots and braces. They quickly endeared themselves to the “kids,” with singer Jimmy Pursey in particular becoming their working-class hero. Sadly, the band’s glory years would only last a quick two years. They were soon being co-opted by football hooligans, National Front members and right-wing skinheads. After being plagued by constant violence at their gigs, the staunchly anti-racist band finally called it quits in 1980. Although they reunited in 1987, Sham 69 tragically never got their groove back. The “Hersham boys” of today are anything but kids, and perhaps more tellingly, are also anything but united. If you are planning to go to Foufounes on Saturday night to hear these street-punk legends, be forewarned that this version of the band would be more accurately named if they simply dropped the 69 from their name altogether. The true heart of the band, Pursey, won’t be there and, simply put from a fan’s perspective, with no Pursey, there can be no Sham 69—period. This current pale version of the band is fronted by original guitarist Dave Parsons and could be considered a cover band at best. If any of you have had the great displeasure of seeing the recent hodgepodge versions of Cro-Mags, Discharge, Dead Kennedys and the Misfits, you know just how heartbreaking these things can get. The bad blood between Pursey and Parsons runs deep indeed, with Parsons blogging that Pursey was sacked due to lack of interest in the band and continually blowing off gigs, while Pursey has gotten downright venomous by railing against the desecration of the band’s name and warning people about the karaoke version continuing to tour and record under the Sham 69 moniker. By dragging their legacy through the mud, Parsons comes across as a punk rock profiteer by bilking misinformed fans through blind brand loyalty, with the victims being the poor saps who dropped the $16 for tickets. No one likes to see the Ol’ Yellers of punk rock getting long in the tooth and having to be put down, but if the bulldog has lost its bite and bark, best to take it around back of the barn and pump it full of buckshot, rather than watch the patchy pooch piss on the rug. Buyer beware!
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