Rock On and God Save The Queen: London Punk Is Not Dead


The first time I went to London was in 1985. I was a wannabe preppy preteen from Cincinnati, Ohio, dressed in Jordache and Forenza — just on the cusp of full adolescence … and radiating the “nobody understands me” angst that comes along with puberty. It was a trip to Trafalgar Square in London that changed everything for me. There I saw punk rock kids hanging out in Doc Martens and leather jackets, sporting Mohawks, piercings, and tattoos. I was fascinated. It was like nothing I’d seen in Ohio. And then I heard their music. It was raw, edgy, angry … and I was hooked. I didn’t bring home the look, but I did bring home the music. Years later, I still listen to the Sex Pistols, The Clash, and the Ramones — and on a recent trip to England, I wondered: Where has all the punk gone?

Related: On a Gender Bender: One Woman’s Night as a Man in London

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The Redneck Mecca of Stage Coach: Where America’s Stereotypes Come Alive

Once a year, Rednecks from all over the world convene in the desert outside of Palm Springs for the Stage Coach festival where a bunch of (mostly) white people become inebriated, perform assless chaps dance offs (see video above) and listen to country music.

There are stereotypes for a reason and Stage Coach represents what much of the world think of when they think of Murrica. I, obviously, try to go every year (Ed Note: Little known fact, the Broad loves country music. And Stereotypes. And Bad behavior – which abounds). By the final night of the festival, brains have been fried by the sun, smokes and gallons of booze. And that’s when it gets really interesting.

Last year, to Stage Coach’s credit, they did try to integrate the stage (and thus the crowd) by having Darius Rucker and Charlie Parker perform – but frankly, only Charlie Parker counts.

And then there’s the fashion. Check out the best selling T-Shirts/bikinis from the stalls. It is all sorts of wrong. Trust.

(After the jump) Behold: AMERICA!

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