“Live fast, die young” used to be punk rock's de facto mantra. But, as it turns out, there are innumerable options for punks to grow older, as long as you didn't check out early like Sid Vicious or Darby Crash. You can stay brutal like Lydia Lunch and Mark E. Smith or become an increasingly racist and irrelevant curmudgeon like Johnny Rotten. Bands such as Buzzcocks and Mission of Burma keep themselves youthful by releasing forgettable new albums and touring on the strength of older material. And then there's X-Ray Spex's Poly Styrene, who became a Hare Krishna in 1980 and finds time to release the occasional solo album between visits to the ashram.
Or, like John Doe and Exene Cervenka of the quintessential LA punk band X, you could continue to evolve, generating an ever-growing catalog of side projects, solo ventures, and one-off experiments. Doe and Cervenka divorced in 1985, after five years of marriage, and went on to publish books of poetry and pursue acting careers (fun fact: between 1986 and 1997, Cervenka was married to Viggo Mortensen). But neither abandoned music. They perform together and apart, by themselves and with new bands, with guitarist Billy Zoom as a reunited X and, now, as a minimalist, country-flavored duo.
To set the mood for a cold, snowy evening of Americana, opener Justin Townes Earle — Steve Earle's son — brought the sounds of Tennessee to New York. He had recently moved to the somewhat rough Brooklyn neighborhood of Crown Heights and proclaimed it “very nice,” adding, “I like the people.” As Earle strummed a guitar and sang songs for his father (sample lyric: “I am my father's son/ I've never known when to shut up”) and for Woody Guthrie, a fellow mustachioed southerner, clad in head-to-toe denim, accompanied him on mandolin and banjo. Boasting the kind of voice most often found on dust-covered 78s, Earle is undeniably the real thing. His music feels old-fashioned, but in a timeless, not anachronistic, way.
When, at the end of his set, Earle announced that he would perform a song by his favorite Minneapolis band, I was afraid he would ruin the night with something by fellow Brooklyn transplants The Hold Steady. I heaved a massive sigh of relief when I heard the opening chords of the song he'd chosen: a flawless, stripped-down take on The Replacements' “Can't Hardly Wait,” which drove the audience wild.
It was a fitting segue to John and Exene, who took the stage in simple, black-and-white outfits, looking a little bit like the Appalachian folkies who inspire their music. Although their romance ended nearly 25 years ago, the pair retains a certain chemistry and tenderness that comes through in their patient, funny onstage banter. And, before we get into the music, there's something else you should know about John and Exene: Their fans — from 20-somethings to 50-year-old punks — adore them. Not a moment of silence could pass without someone yelling, “We love you, Exene!” or good-naturedly joking with John.
As someone who's devoted a lot of time to thinking about X -- I just submitted a 33 1/3 proposal on Los Angeles -- the performance was a chance to reflect on the way their music has evolved over the years. Although the road from punk to Americana seems long, the movements are tied together by the raucousness of rockabilly. And the space between the sex, drugs, and death that fueled LA punk and the sex-booze-death triumvirate that has driven American roots music for a century has never been that great. As it turns out, the California noir and Southern gothic aesthetics may just be kissin' cousins.
For much of the set, John's acoustic guitar was the only instrument accompanying their voices, as they paged through a selection of each musician's own compositions, a handful of covers, and a sprinkling of X classics. Throughout, John and Exene kept the audience engaged. John joked about his excitement to contribute a track (“The Losing Kind”) to a Samuel L. Jackson movie and the disappointment of discovering just how bad Black Snake Moan turned out to be. As Doe put it, “Even Christina Ricci running around in her underpants couldn't save it.” And before performing the Carter Family standard “Poor Old Heartsick Me,” they told the story of their chance meeting with June Carter, who apparently told them, “If I never sing that song again, it'll be too soon.”
Of course, for an old X fan, the highlight of the evening was hearing two of my favorite old-school tunes, “I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts” and “In This House That I Call Home.” During the second encore (that's right, kids — both about to turn 53 and still gracing audiences with multiple encores), a few people shouted out, “Los Angeles!”
“On an acoustic guitar? Really?” John shot back, without missing a beat. I knew he was right, but I couldn't fault them for the request. Even on an acoustic guitar, I would've liked to hear it, too.
