Search Results for: jim lindberg

Search Archives Only

DS Festival Review: Slam Dunk Festival (North)

In 2001, I moved to the Northern English city of Leeds, in part because of the live music venue, The Cockpit. This small venue put on all my favourite bands of the time, and had a long history of putting on great live music. I worked in another venue in the city on weekends, so […]


In 2001, I moved to the Northern English city of Leeds, in part because of the live music venue, The Cockpit. This small venue put on all my favourite bands of the time, and had a long history of putting on great live music. I worked in another venue in the city on weekends, so Tuesday night was my big night out, and Tuesday nights were Slam Dunk at The Cockpit. A solid mix of ska punk, pop punk, emo, rock, metal and whatever else alternative kids were listening to in the early 2000’s. 

So here I am, 21 years later. The Cockpit has long since shut down and whilst the Slam Dunk Club Night plays on at its new home, the Key Club, it’s the festival that I am at today. Now held across two cities with more than 50 bands, across five stages, things have really grown from that two room sweaty Tuesday night under a railway arch.

The lineup covers a wide range of punk and alternative music, but because I’m old and stuck in my ways, I’m mostly staying at the Dickies stage, which is the main stage this year, hosting The Suicide Machines, The Bronx, Hot Water Music, The Vandals, Streetlight Manifesto, Pennywise, The Interrupters, The Dropkick Murphy’s and headliners Sum 41. 

I’d originally bought tickets on the basis that Rancid were headlining, but they pulled out for undisclosed reasons. Then support from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones collapsed along with the band. Things were looking bleak, and I actually looked into selling my ticket, only to have two of my close friends and original Slam Dunk allies to buy tickets, so it was to be a big day out for us old guys.

The venue for the festival is Temple Newsam House. For further personal historic links, this was the site of the first music festival I ever went to (V98), and a big part of my musical taste was formed in these park lands. The benefit of this location for me is that it is close to home, the downside is that it still takes an hour and a half to get in, as traffic is not well managed and everything is already getting expensive (£10 to park in a field, £10 for a bus), I’d planned to ride my bike to the event, but for three of us, that didn’t make much sense.

Inside the arena, the stages are far enough apart that there is little noise mix from bands and practicalities like bars, toilets and food concessions are plentiful, the addition of a separate “real ale” bar was a pleasant surprise, and I managed to spend an impressive amount in this tent after and before every band. The tent also provides some welcome shade from the unexpected sun that I was totally unprepared for!

So, on to the music…

Hot Water Music, a band that I’ve discovered backwards through Chuck Ragan’s solo work, come out impassioned and full of energy, although the crowd are a little flat with it being an early set. Despite this we get a solid effort from the band, though possibly things are held back a little by a lack of catchy hooks and sing along choruses in the songs performed. Finishing with “Trusty Chords” gets the crowd interested from hearing a song they know. Whether they know the song from Epitaph‘s Punk-o-Rama compilation, or it’s just a favourite is hard to say, but in a pre-internet world, compilations from Independent punk labels are how a lot of us discovered new bands, especially those that didn’t tour the small northern venues like the Cockpit!

A quick trip to the bar revealed the sound of Punk Rock Factory carrying on the wind from the Rock Sound Stage. I was familiar with the band from their Youtube videos of punked up, harmonized pop covers, and as a father of small children, I found myself singing along to “Let It Go”, whilst appropriately stood at a urinal. If I have to play Disney songs on long journeys, then at least they can have crushing guitars as well, and hopefully, like some kind of gateway drug, this leads my kids down the path of home made tattoos and living in a van (or some other punk cliché).

The Vandals took to the stage with a not too reassuring “We’ll do our best”, and whilst I appreciate their honesty and openness, first song “Café 405”, is out of time and out of tune. 

Three songs in, things are starting to tighten up, “People That Are Going To Hell” gets people moving a little, but on the whole, the crowd remain static. “And Now We Dance” raises the energy, “The New You” keeps it going, but there’s just not enough there to hold the attention of the majority of the crowd. My friends desert me to hit the real ale bar, I hate myself for giving up on the mighty Vandals, but cold beer and the Cancer Bats on the Jagermeister stage lure me away. I’m not massively familiar with the Cancer Bats, but the wall of noise, that I could feel through the ground and see vibrating through my pint has led me to listen to more of their back catalogue.

I had a dream the night before Slam Dunk that I took all my family to see Streetlight Manifesto, but instead of their usual set list, they played a really challenging, four hour Jazz set, stopping only to enjoy a sit down meal, where they served soup from tea pots. I was trying desperately to convince my family that really, they’re a great band, whilst simultaneously enjoying the weird spectacle. 

Fortunately, there’s no Jazz today as Streetlight Manifesto, a later addition to the bill, take to the stage. There’s a clear sense of excitement in the crowd as the eight piece tear through classic hits “We Will Fall Together” and “The Three Of Us” along with lesser known tracks with a level of energy normally reserved for headline shows. The crowd sings along, dances, moshes; it’s a perfect blend of everything you want on a summers day. The only slight letdown is Tomas Kalnoky shouting “this is the big finish!” and then promptly not playing “Keasbey Nights.” I get the reasons, and I support them in letting go of a song that doesn’t really represent the band, but for many in the crowd it’s the song they came to hear and there’s visible confusion as the band leave the stage, though encores aren’t really a thing at 16:30 on a festival stage are they?

I last saw Pennywise in 1999. So its been a while. Late last year I read Jim Lindberg’s book “Punk Rock Dad,” which renewed my interest in the band, so I’m excited to see this set, and if the number of Pennywise T-shirts I’m seeing are anything to go by, so are the crowd.

From the get go, the band are on full attack. There’s no sign of age in the band and the crowd are loving it. Covers of AC/DC’s “TNT” and “Breed” by Nirvana continues the energy. Early songs “Pennywise” and “Society” lead to Lindberg lamenting to having been “doing this for thirty years,” but it’s not slowing them down. 

The crowd holds middle fingers aloft for “Fuck Authority,” and whilst it feels cheesy, a load of middle aged men swearing at the sky, its kind of cathartic, and hey, it’s a great song! Who doesn’t enjoy feeling like an angry teenager (teenagers maybe?).

A cover of “Stand By Me,” which closed 1992 album Wild Card/ A Word From The ‘Wise surprised me, as I was certain it was Lagwagon, so I learned something important today if nothing else. 

Set closer “Bro-Hymn” has exactly the effect you’d expect. Huge “wooahs” from the crowd, that epic bass riff and impassioned singing along. Obviously it’s a great song, but I think it hits harder now, after the last few years and I think everyone can take some strength from this song and apply it to someone they’ve lost.

The Interrupters carry a strange position in my mind. I love their songs, they’re great live, but there’s just something not quite right. Something doesn’t sit right with me, and I hate myself for being so negative, but its all a bit too clean cut for me. Like it’s the soundtrack to Disney film where some hopelessly good looking, talented young people form a ska punk band and take over the world with a weird crusty mentor behind them (Called Tim?).

Opener “Take Back the Power” feels stronger than normal. Maybe its that they’re more established, or maybe my cynicism is fading? Either way I enjoy it for what it is, well polished, perfectly-performed ska pop-punk. 

Ignoring a weird segue about how they all used to bathe together… “She got arrested” gets a great crowd sing along, and is probably my favourite of their songs, not least as it was my introduction to the band back in 2017 and a great example of the quality story telling in the lyrics of some of their songs.

A cover medley of “Keep ‘Em Separated”/ “Linoleum”/ “Ruby Soho” gets the crowd going before surprise high point for me, a cover of Bad Religion‘s “Sorrow,” which goes down well with the crowd (For reference Bad Religion played Slam Dunk in 2019, as did the Interrupters).

The band finishes with “She’s Kerosene,” keeping the party going, the crowd moving and generally capturing the moment nicely. People are drunk, its sunny, the people want to dance and the Interrupters deliver.

The Dropkick Murphys take to a stage with a full length riser, done out to look like a stone wall, but there is a notable absence. Al Barr, it is announced, has stayed home to care for his sick mother. Ken Casey steps up for lead vocal duties and the evening begins with the sound of bagpipes on the cool evening breeze. 

“State of Massachusetts” gets the kind of crowd reaction you’d expect from a classic pop hit or a song about Yorkshire, such passion for such a challenging subject is strange, but hey, it’s a great song and the drunk, bouncy, dancey crowd are loving it.

“Barroom Hero” is introduced as the first song the band ever wrote, which is a bit of trivia I didn’t know, but I remember it from way back in the 90s, so I guess that makes sense. The crowd offer weak “Oi! Oi! Oi!” effort which is a disappointment, maybe the crowd aren’t as au fait with shouting Oi! as I’d like? Though I accept my drive to shout “Oi!” is probably higher than most.

The slip up begins with the instruction to sing along to the 1937 hit “I’ve Still Got Ninety-Nine” by the Monroe Brothers, which although an undeniably good song, probably isn’t too familiar to the crowd today. On the upside, we’re promised an acoustic album in September, which is one to look out for. Whether it’s new material or reimagined classics has not been confirmed, but hopefully there will be an associated tour.

“Rose Tattoo” brings the sing along from the crowd, but lacks the momentum to get the crowd moving. This is exacerbated by the big screen showing bored, static faces in the crowd for the first time. Fortunately, “I’m Shipping Up To Boston” brings the party back before the end of the set. I’ve never seen such passion for a missing wooden leg, as the crowd goes nuts, with crowd surfers from all directions riding above the waves of the crowd. All parties appear to have legs intact, so that’s good.

Headliners Sum-41 were a bit of a quandary for me. The first album was an important soundtrack to my late teens/ early 20s and I saw them play in Leeds twice in 2002, but I haven’t listened to their music since Does This Look Infected from the same year.

A bit of pre-show research suggested they have had seven further releases, including 2019s Order In Decline, but in the spirit of openness, I’ve not felt inspired to check these out.

The band come out to a stage with blood-soaked Marshall speaker cabinets, a giant skull, jets of fire and “Motivation” from the first album, All Killer, No Filler. More people than I expected are really into it, though competition with Deaf Havana and the Nova Twins is limited and the other stages have closed.

The stage is set for a night of big rock and I’d like to say I invested more effort into rediscovering Sum 41, but too much sun, too much beer and a designated driver who wanted to beat the traffic meant we made an early exit.

Post a Comment

Your email address will not be published.

From The DS Vault: On The Passing Of Tony Sly (originally appeared August 2, 2012)

Thanks to everyone who has checked out all of the new content we’ve been cranking out since the relaunch of Dying Scene! We’re stoked to be back, and we’re even more stoked that you’ve been checking in! Because we have an awful lot of material from the old site in the Archive, we thought it […]

Thanks to everyone who has checked out all of the new content we’ve been cranking out since the relaunch of Dying Scene! We’re stoked to be back, and we’re even more stoked that you’ve been checking in! Because we have an awful lot of material from the old site in the Archive, we thought it would be cool to take a look back at some of the posts from our past.

First up is a story from August 2, 2012. My memories of writing it are still very vivid. We’d just had it confirmed the night before that Tony Sly had passed away. I remember messaging Dying Scene’s old head honcho (and still head honcho emeritus) Johnny X that I know we had run a news story about it, but that I wanted to say more about what his death meant. I took a little time to process my initial shock, and sat at my desk in my old office and wrote the following post stream-of-consciousness style.

As humans, we’re social creatures, conditioned by nature to thrive off of connections with others. We like to know that other people share in our emotions, both good and bad. So it’s a weird thing when a public figure dies. In trying to make sense of a public loss, it is not uncommon for people to insert themselves in the tragedy of others, searching for connections where none may really exist. The punk rock community can be a jaded one at times, so we turn a condescending eye toward those who vocally mourn the passing of the Whitney Houstons, the Michael Jacksons and the Dick Clarks of the world. But then we lose one of our own, and somehow it feels different.

The punk community is a finite thing, built on a shared set of experiences and beliefs. It goes without saying that to become more than just a gimmick or a passing voice in the annals of punk rock history, your voice has to be one of honesty and integrity. False celebrity and pretension get snuffed out pretty quickly. Tony Sly’s voice resonated for a lot of reasons.  More than anything, Sly’s voice was genuine. Tony Sly wasn’t one of a kind; like most great punk rock poets, he was one of us.

It seems that there’s a common thread for a lot of people who might be of a certain age (let’s say 33 for argument’s sake) while reading this page. For many of us, it was the Green Days and the Offsprings who ushered us into this punk rock community roughly twenty years ago; it was the No Use For A Names that kept us here. Inspired by the Bad Religions and the Social Distortions who blazed the trail a decade earlier, NUFAN were one of the pillars in the skate punk community that exploded in the early 90s, thanks in no small part to Tony Sly’s unique voice and heartfelt lyrics. To many of us, there are less than a half-dozen voices from that pivotal era of our formative punk rock years whose ability to connect with their listeners via their storytelling abilities continues to resonate and has left a lasting impression: Fat Mike, Joey Cape, Trever Keith, Jim Lindberg, and Tony Sly. That foundation crumbled a little with the all-too-untimely passing of Tony Sly.

While Fat Mike’s voice served to take the piss out of people who took themselves too seriously and Lindberg pointed his middle finger directly at the establishment, Sly (along with his later counterpart Cape) was more introspective, directing a lot of that same vitriol toward the man that reflects in the mirror. Sly expressed fear, doubt and insecurity in ways that were very real and relatable, easily allowing the listener to identify with every word. And yet, I always got the sense that Tony wasn’t looking for that sort of connection; instead that he was writing for himself, using his music as a therapeutic tool, actively trying to process and make sense of what he saw unfolding around him in the world around him.

As he progressed as a songwriter, Sly’s frame of reference seemed to narrow, with lyrics that became more personal release-by-release, dealing less with trying to fit into the bigger picture (as on the bulk of the material on the 1995 NUFAN classic Leche Con Carne) and more on trying to make sense with feelings like disappointment and resignation along with the stagnation and inertia that can creep in to long-term relationships. The two solo albums that closed out Sly’s career were perhaps the two most appropriately-titled albums in recent memory (2010’s Twelve Song Program and 2011’s Sad Bear). The former album tells the tale of a man trying to keep a brave (or at least upbeat) face while coping with emotional turmoil; the latter, while very similar in almost every way, adopts the tone of someone who remains stuck in a persistent rut, yet without some of the tongue-in-cheek optimism of its predecessor.

Like most lasting punk rock voices of his era, he wasn’t about gimmicks or style. Tony Sly wasn’t a bondage-pants-and-pink-mohawk type, nor was he a leather-jacket-and-eyeliner type. From afar, Tony Sly seemed like one of the good guys, but equally as important, he seemed like one of the regular guys. He seemed like someone who used his musical platform to cathartically express a lot of the things that many of us go through, particularly with middle age and growing responsibilities that come with it. As he reminded us, Tony Sly wasn’t our savior. Rather, he was one of us. That’s what makes his untimely passing all the more troubling. It means not just losing a made-up face on a television screen or a studio-created voice capable of belting out words that were written in a pop music laboratory. Instead, it makes our own mortality just a little more real.

“Please remember…it must go on…”

  1. I still remember that terrible day and I remember the DS tribute to Tony. No Use was one of my favorite bands growing up (still is). They were just that little bit under the radar from the bands that were blowing up like Rancid, Green Day, Offspring and Bad Religion, that we felt like they were are own, despite being a coast away from where No Use formed. Still one of my favorite memories is being drunk as shit outside the Paradise in Boston where No Use just killed with a great set. Me and my buddy left after No Use played knowing that the Dance Hall Crashers just couldn’t compete with No Use. It was awesome that we saw Tony and Dave Nassie outside the bar that was next to Paradise. They were busting our balls cuz of our thick Boston accents and sayings. I told Tony, in pure Boston bro form, “Hey Tony, fuckin’ Postcaaahd was f’n pissah kid!”. Baffled, Tony turned to Dave and was like, does that mean he liked it or hated it?!! He was awesome to talk to and genuinely loved interacting with the fans it seemed as much as we loved talking to him and listening to his music. I still miss that band. I heard Fat Mike had some recordings of Tony but that they were so unfinished that he’s not sure he can do anything with them. Too bad. Would love to hear some new stuff for sure. Thanks for posting the tribute DS. And thank you so much for coming back.. I missed your site 😉

    • No Use opened for Dance Hall Crashers? At Paradise? Wow, I don’t remember that. I know I saw them both (separately) but it was always at Middle East downstairs. Actually wait, no, I saw DHC (and Unwritten Law) open for Bad Religion at…Axis? Avalon? Anyway, thanks for checking in! I’m glad we’re back too! We’ll have the kinks worked out soon. I hope.

Post a Comment

Your email address will not be published.

Jim Lindberg of Pennywise releases "Don't Lay Me Down" video

Jim Lindber of Pennywise has released a new video. The vid is for the track ""Don't Lay Me Down" off Elkhorn Trail. In a relese, Jim stated: "“The song is about the events around my father’s passing and what an insidious disease Alzheimer's is with how it affects everyone involved. I think Rob's animation perfectly captures that sad twilight time between life and death and the bittersweet exchange that happens between family members when loved ones pass away." " The LP is out now via Epitaph. You can check out the video below.

Sick Move – “Intrusive Thoughts”

Intrusive Thoughts - Sick Move

Release Date: March 29, 2024 Record Label: Unsigned

Sick Move! That’s the name of the Baltimore punk band we’re featuring today. They’ve got a new record out now – it’s actually their first – called Intrusive Thoughts and it’s really fuckin’ good! You should most certainly check it out! Allow me a moment to tell you why you should most certainly check it out.

I’m completely devoid of any ability to describe a band’s sound with any level of nuance or creativity, so I’ll fall back on my go-to strategy of comparing a lesser known band you’re likely hearing about for the first time to much more established bands; you know, the dudes whose logos you probably have tattooed on your arms, legs, or perhaps even near your nether regions (I don’t judge).

Songs on Intrusive Thoughts like the album-opening “Beshu Final” and “FYH” (I’ve been informed that means FUCK YOUR HOUSE) are a mix of NOFX and Pennywise; fast, melodic, hard-hitting, you know the drill. “One Way Out” and “Social Networking” lean further to the Pennywise side of things (and miscellaneous Jim Lindberg sideprojects, especially Wraths). “Farewell to the Bannerman” reminds me of a band you’ve probably never heard of, the woefully under-appreciated Civil War Rust.

So hey, if you like any of those bands, or just good punk rock in general, you might wanna give Sick Move a shot. This is a great debut effort and I look forward to hearing more from these guys. Listen to Intrusive Thoughts:

This Dying Scene Featured Release™ is brought to you in part by our friends at Punk Rock Radar®. To stay up to date on all the awesome new punk records coming out every week, look no further than PRR’s Release Calendar and New Music Friday Spotify Playlist!