AA.VV.
1991: The Year Punk Broke

THE REVIEW

What would have happened if, in the 80s, an alien residing on Mars or another galaxy had bought a satellite dish and, once tuned to MTV, watched the videos of the crappiest bands on Earth? I mean, videos of people like Bon Jovi, George Michael, all those air metal jokers (the name of this genre is due to the industrial amount of hairspray that the fools of the time used to tease their hair before going on stage after having thoroughly sodomized themselves in the dressing room), Guns'n Roses, Poison, Queen, or Motley Crue, incite violence just like the images of the March on Rome or other similar nonsense. So what would have happened?

Surely the next day these little green creatures (I'm not talking about the Black Knight) would have invaded and exterminated us (rightfully so, I'd say), and humanity would be nothing but a faint memory (sure it's not already?).

In the 80s, as in all historical periods occupied by totalitarian regimes, there was a form of cultural resistance, like Poland during World War II. So it goes without saying that someone like Henry Rollins could no longer just be an awkwardly clumsy singer, but was kind of a Ferruccio Parri and Ian McKaye who would have loved to stay at home jerking off, maybe in front of a Tina Turner video (a shiver runs down the spine), but instead was forced to sling a guitar over his shoulder, like a rifle, and play the De Gaulle of the situation.
From this American partisan struggle (Thruman must be turning in his grave over this juicy oxymoron) significant audio artifacts remain (in fact, the underground world exploded. They held concerts, printed LPs, toured America, and sometimes even the European colony), sometimes double LPs... as if to say: do what you can, jerks!

The most precious video artifact of this civil war, which then became planetary, is "1991: The Year Punk Broke".

The video is a documentary of the tour of Sonic Youth, Dinosaur jr post Lou Barlow's departure, Nirvana, and Babes in Toyland (the Smashing Pumpkins also took part in the tour but no one mentions them... you know: among enemies, no prisoners are taken). The images that follow have something epic. They are the real proof that man existed, they are, therefore, the poetry that buffers the entertainment.
Schizophrenia, Teenage Riot, Smells like teen spirit, Negative Creep, School, Freak Scene, The Wagon, Dirty Boots, interspersed with images shot in hotels, backstage, burps, ice for everyone, pseudo self-interviews, jokes, and invocations to God Iggy, overlap, intertwine, and love each other.

With this tour, everything was said and done. Indeed, shortly afterward, the oppressors managed to infiltrate among the resistance, destroying the coming years and even some lives. The government sent spies among the people. They were identical to the partisans. Same guitars, same clothes, same hair (sometimes even blond), the same drugs, the same overdoses, but the music was absolutely different. The spies produced nothing but steaming turds that numerous fools ate and still eat, thinking it's Nutella... but nevermind.

So, drawing the due and sad conclusions of the case, the motto of this whole story is: scurdamc ro passat, simme e napul paisa (forget about the past, we are Neapolitan)... HELL NO!