17/02/2024
Just watching a documentary where the interviewee recounts seeing pictures of punk rock bands in magazines and trying to imagine what they sounded like. It took me back to New Zealand in the late seventies. Pre-Internet and the UK rock press 3 months behind by the time it hit the New Zealand newsagents. We had a raggle-taggle band who rehearsed in my basement bedroom every Sunday. Something was in the air, we could tell by some of the records we had been able to get a hold of. The Saints, Dr. Feelgood and Radio Birdman - short sharp and genuinely exciting. The Damned promised much, amongst their number, they had a bloke that looked like Dracula and a bassist in a tutu. The British press was going bananas over their initial 45s and suddenly, there was an album. We simply had to hear this. My friend Dave McKenzie who was probably the only punk rocker in Christchurch, excitedly called me to let me know there were a few copies of the Damned's first record available at the Record Room (which was odd as the shop specialised in Classical Music) in the city. Dave donned his homemade bo***ge trousers and duly hopped on the Maidstone Road bus with the sole intention of returning with this holy grail. Trouble was, the guy at the Record Room believed the Damned album was so awful that nobody in their right mind would enjoy this racket and refused to sell Dave a copy. "Why should I sell you this when you'll probably just return it tomorrow?" was his reasoning. Dave literally had to beg the guy to get him to hand it over.
I rushed over to Dave's place to hear this new music praying that it wouldn't be a letdown. I shouldn't have worried. Damned Damned Damned sounded like the Stooges album hopped up on Bop Pills, Wild, Fast, Brutal with an obvious sense of humour. They could obviously play, but without all the frills and production values of the music we were hearing on the radio. This was it, the way forward. Next to the Damneds debut, the Pistols Bo****ks, when we finally got to hear it, sounded like Led Zeppelin!