In my little Hamilton group, Teenage Head were “poseurs” compared to “real” punks, The Forgotten Rebels.
We were jerks, obviously. I take it all back, but it’s too late to apologize to Frankie Venom, because he’s dead.
Both these bands are a million times better than THAT CRAP ON THE RADIO TODAY, YOU DAMN KIDS.
Gods Of The Hammer, Pevere admits, was his attempt to understand what happened to the band, and to dive deep into punk, a cultural moment that meant a lot to him – one that he’s sure now was a swansong of sorts for the music he and Teenage Head loved.
“What I understand now, which I didn’t then, was that we grew up in the center of rock’s cultural dominion, and when you’ve got that temple cathedral above you it doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to crumble and fall down,” he tells me.
“Of course that’s completely naive – looking back, we know it was always going to be compromised by commercial interest, and it was always going to be a highly attractive, warm pool of water for sharks, but something transcended that. But when it came to the vigorous debate about who was a real punk, what rock authenticity was and all that, with punk we’re realizing that it might have been the absolute last spasm of rock as something vital. ”
The recording studio down the street from my (Catholic all-girls) high school:
