Gimme Gimme Teenage Head!

In the summer of 1979, I was 17. I had graduated from grade 12, but was going back for the now-defunct Grade 13 university preparation classes. I was bored and dissatisfied, as most 17 year olds are when faced with the prospect of a summer spent in rural backwaters. The same people, the same music, the same bush parties where I would try and fit in among the cool kids and pretend to know the words to music I didn’t even like.

Thanks to a misdial on the radio one summer night, I found punk rock and was saved. All my boredom, all my dissatisfaction, all my anger had an outlet. I no longer tried to fit in with the cool kids or even cared enough to find out where the next lame-ass bush party was going to be.

I started going downtown to the cool record stores, spending my spare cash on Clash and Siousxie and the Banshee imports from the UK, Ramones imports from the US, coloured vinyl, special editions, whaever I could get my hands on. I even bought what I could on 8-track so I could listen to the Diodes or New York Dolls when I drove my Dad’s van.

I started dressing in ways that scared my mother and amused my father. I dated this great hulk of a guy who didn’t have two brain cells to rub together, but he worked as a bouncer at a punk club and would sneak me in. And that is where both my love of alcohol and the loss of my hearing began.

My favourite band to see there was a group of local boys who called themselves Teenage Head. They would hit the stage and I would let loose, dancing and singing like one possessed. I’d know it was a good time the next day by how sore and hoarse I was the next day. I could not talk for two days afer this show:

I grew up and got jobs; so did they. But they still played around the area and I still went. Their songs remaln pretty high up in my iPod playlists and I can count on them even after almost 3 decades (!) to give me an outlet when I’m bored or unhappy.

Last night, I received an email from my brother letting me know that the lead singer aka Frankie Venom passed away yesterday. And yes, I cried a bit when I read that, same as I did when hearing of the deaths of Joey Ramone or Joe Strummer.

I did not need this reminder today that all things pass; parents, relatives, friends, and even punk rock heroes you’d hoped were as immortal as their music.