Old Dudes at the Punk Show
(For Cheetah Chrome)
The Dead Boys are playing
at the Mercury Lounge
in the Lower East Side—
It’s over forty years
since they rocked CBGB’s
in the early wave of punk—
and Stiv Bators has been dead
for a long time now—
but Cheetah Chrome is still here—
and his guitar sound so fresh and raw—
energizing the crazy mix of punk fans
jammed into the bar.
And the new lead singer yells out:
“It’s 1977!”
And Cheetah’s guitar sound
makes that happen
for all of us.
I’m in my 60’s now,
and so when the big dude in his 20’s
starts to mosh up front—
violently slamming into people around him,
I take a step back.
The big dude throws a smaller young punk
into me, and I think about
moving to the back of the bar—
away from the front lines and action.
But I look up at Cheetah Chrome—
who’s older than me—
and he’s got big, ugly-looking bruises
on his forearm—
but his wild eyes break into an old-school
punk smile when he sees the moshers—
and his guitar drives the scene
harder, faster,
and instinct kicks in,
and it all comes back—
and I remember—you should
lower your shoulder when someone
is flying at you in the mosh pit—
like a hockey player
doing a reverse hit on the boards.
And Cheetah’s sound—
it’s just so young, so alive—
it comes from a different place—
a place far beneath the bruises—
and it’s a place we both
need to hang on to.
.
Stink Eye Magazine 