The Kim Squad And Dinah Shore Zeekapers
Young Bastards

There was a time when even Rome burned with boredom and that's when the arsonists appeared.

It's not 1977: in those days the flames blazed in London.

In those days Francois, Angelo, Roberta, Elena, and Giorgio were still playing, some with Big Jim, some with Barbie: microphones, guitars, basses, and drums, and even organs were yet to come.

The propitious time is 1987.

The kids have grown up, their paths have crossed one way or another and for some time now they have formed a band: they called it The Kim Squad And Dinah Shore Headbangers.

I was sixteen: I wasn't a punk, but punk music literally scrambled my brains and churned my guts. There are three moments I wish could last forever: one is when I pogo, the other is when I headbang.

The Kim Squad instantly became "my" band: they were headbangers in name and in fact, at their concerts, people pogoed until exhaustion.

They weren't punk either: four are Italian, one is French; they're young bastards in love with rock'n'roll and the streets.

They have in their repertoire a song titled «Renaissance» which is pure dynamite, an electric ride of over ten minutes in the wildest territories of rock'n'roll; it's the wall erected by the guitars of Steve Wynn and Karl Precoda in «Definitely Clean», the punk brightness of X in «The World's A Mess It's In My Kiss», the urgent call-and-response presented by Ray Charles in «What'd I Say». For me, it surpasses them all, as absurd as it may be.

I was sixteen and the moment I favored was the approach with the girl of my dreams.

Then I convinced myself that «Renaissance» was even better, an adrenaline rush so scary that it stays with you for days and days, that riff must explode again and again and again.

At sixteen, my approaches with the opposite sex were little more than sporadic; after all, it's Johnny Rotten—not just any bloke you meet on the street—who rules that sex is animal stuff, two and a half minutes of sticky rubbing and nothing more: I had «Renaissance» in my discotheque to remedy the periods of abstinence and that was enough for me, as absurd as this might also be.

In the meantime, the young bastards changed their corporate name – the Headbangers give way to the Zeekapers – but keep writing songs, until they have enough to come out publicly. «Renaissance» is placed at the end, preceded by seven others in the setlist – my favorites are «Harbour Dues», which starts as a blues jam in Chicago and touches so many shores, and «Macaibo», which starts bright and light like a typical Pixies' «Here Comes Your Man» and then Giorgio injects abundant doses of acidic, gutsy electricity in a finale dense with convulsions and chills. «Young Bastards» is all here, because it's 1987 and nothing more is needed to play a great rock'n'roll record, in a Rome where the fire is getting increasingly out of control.

Francois is an authentic stage animal, with an overflowing physical presence: in 1987 audiences went wild for Piero Pelù, but Francois is a whole different story. Giorgio is the best rock'n'roll guitarist to tread the national scenes: in 1987 audiences went wild for Ghigo Renzulli, but Giorgio is a whole different story. No objections against Litfiba in 1987, but if the future of rock'n'roll had been in their hands, today rock'n'roll would be dead and buried.

The Kim Squad play a contaminated and uncompromising rock'n'roll like few others at the time (Not Moving, Boohoos), which is also so garage-oriented – Roberta could move her beautiful presence and her organ into the ranks of the purist Sick Rose and no one would complain – but above all and more strongly than anything these young bastards play raw, hot, and erotic rock'n'roll; and they also have the impudence and gall to (un)dress the roles of Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin in that dark psychedelic exhumation of «Je T'Aime Moi Non Plus» in a Doors-like sauce that is «Serge Est Un Salaud».

Only that it's 2015.

The Kim Squad broke up a long time ago: Francois immersed himself in solo projects, freely expressing his talent along paths that cross singer-songwriter and theater; Elena and Giorgio, at least for a while, continued to live on bastard rock'n'roll (Overlord and Garbages were two of the most deserving and unfortunately underrated bands of the late '80s Roman scene); I've lost track of Angelo and Roberta.

As for me, I'm forty-four, in order: I would like to approach the woman of my dreams; I would like to pogo; I would like to headbang. In twenty-eight years, I've changed little but, at the very least, I've understood the utility of the conditional mood, in theory and practice.

As absurd as it may be, I still like those bastards of the Kim Squad, I like Roberta lying long on a messy table (like Iggy Pop when I open «Funhouse») adjusting her walkman headphones and with an expression as cocky as bored seems to ask the photographer and me as well: «What the fuck are you looking at?»; and I like their songs that haven't lost a gram of rock'n'roll rawness, warmth, and eroticism.

Forever, young bastards (inside). Them, me, and all those who feel it.

The Kim Squad And Dinah Shore Zeekapers (Headbangers) were and will always be:

• Francois Regis Cambuzat: vocals;

• Angelo Pinna: drums;

• Roberta Possamai: organ;

• Elena Palmieri: bass;

• Giorgio Curcetti: guitar.