For a girl who spent many teenage nights in the mosh pits and would come home, stand in front of a mirror and admire all the bruises I’d earned, I’ve done relatively few punk reviews. Because every generation has a nearly unbreakable attachment to the music they heard as teenagers due to all that testosterone or estrogen gushing through their bodies, I’ve always been concerned that my attachments would result in a less-than-objective assessment of the value of a particular punk album.
Thankfully, the tagline for the blog is “music reviews with a touch of erotica,” which gives me some leeway to let the estrogen flow like a bitch in heat.
I was also leery of attracting punk purists who adhere to strict definitions of what’s punk and what’s not—the Sunnis and Shiites of rock ‘n’ roll. To me, any music that’s rough, simple, played fast and dripping with attitude is punk; sadly, such a view would be considered heresy by the purists. Sorry, but no one’s going to tell me that “You Really Got Me” and “All Day and All of the Night” aren’t punk songs, or that Lou Reed wasn’t a punk or that the Riot Grrrl movement wasn’t as pure as punk can get.
So, here are the reviews that I define as punk reviews and anyone who wants to challenge my selections would be wise to remember that I have a closetful of whips, crops and other delightful instruments of erotic torture and have no qualms about using them on those who dare to question my authority.
This is one bitch with attitude!