The Colour of Punk Rock
Punk Rock Bowling, 2016. Another year has passed through the blink of an eye and with swollen bellies and achy bones we drag ourselves back to that desert oasis. I packed clothes, booze and my photo gear and made my way back to the Golden Nugget Las Vegas, Nevada. The bands rotate positions and get changed out from time to time with newer, fresher angst-ridden anarchists but always anchored by seasoned and polished acts.
Sun wrecked skin, hard cracked lines dug deep into faded tattooed bodies. Mohawks abound, fresh-headed peacocks made up of shades of Pinks, Greens, and Blues. The jingle-jangle of studded denim vests, and punk rock pins shimmy and sway in the desert breeze. A sea of faded band names: Black Flag, Descendents, Good Riddance, Exploited, Buzzcocks, JFA, Youth Brigade, Dillinger Four, Flogging Molly, the list goes on and on. These walking billboards loom everywhere you go on Fremont Street, acting as reminders of the fog of war that we battle: the thirst for nostalgia verses the bitter bite of the here and now. Every hour that passes means one step closer to packing up and heading back to the world.
The Color of punk rock is best gauged on a scale from black to white, with myriad shades and tones of gray in-between. We congregate around a stage in the blistering heat and share lighting bolt moments of intense artistic expression. All colors fade, the bright shiny lights shift and pop to create a mood, and what your left with are black and white snapshots of another year of Punk Rock Bowling. Thanks to Pistol Magazine, Dr. Strange Records and Pabst Blue Ribbon for fueling the weekend.
Punk Rock Bowling, 2016. Another year has passed through the blink of an eye and with swollen bellies and achy bones we drag ourselves back to that desert oasis. I packed clothes, booze and my photo gear and made my way back to the Golden Nugget Las Vegas, Nevada. The bands rotate positions and get changed out from time to time with newer, fresher angst-ridden anarchists but always anchored by seasoned and polished acts.
Sun wrecked skin, hard cracked lines dug deep into faded tattooed bodies. Mohawks abound, fresh-headed peacocks made up of shades of Pinks, Greens, and Blues. The jingle-jangle of studded denim vests, and punk rock pins shimmy and sway in the desert breeze. A sea of faded band names: Black Flag, Descendents, Good Riddance, Exploited, Buzzcocks, JFA, Youth Brigade, Dillinger Four, Flogging Molly, the list goes on and on. These walking billboards loom everywhere you go on Fremont Street, acting as reminders of the fog of war that we battle: the thirst for nostalgia verses the bitter bite of the here and now. Every hour that passes means one step closer to packing up and heading back to the world.
The Color of punk rock is best gauged on a scale from black to white, with myriad shades and tones of gray in-between. We congregate around a stage in the blistering heat and share lighting bolt moments of intense artistic expression. All colors fade, the bright shiny lights shift and pop to create a mood, and what your left with are black and white snapshots of another year of Punk Rock Bowling. Thanks to Pistol Magazine, Dr. Strange Records and Pabst Blue Ribbon for fueling the weekend.