www.wweek.com Or maybe not. But if you believe the hype generated by
this roadshow, which unites a dozen long-in-the-tooth bands
that fall somewhere between punk iconhood and the liberty-spiked
genre's historical footnotes, Social Chaos will be the straw
that stirs North America's civil-disorder cocktail this
summer. While the marketing and publicity for Social Chaos
is admittedly modest and charmingly lo-fi, the propaganda
that is out there promises nothing less ambitious than "Anarchy
in the U.S.A./Canada!" (It's thoughtful of the organizers
to include our monarchist northern brethren. They love being
included.)
Of course, the circle-A "Anarchy" the promoters of this
motley crew are talking about is a far cry from the white-knuckle
anarchy suffered by people living in countries where
true social chaos is part of the political landscape. This
version of every teenager's favorite ideology is more like
the vague and vehement discontent often expressed in Wite-Out
on the back of leather jackets. So when the True Sounds
of Liberty, Gang Green and the rest hit the Roseland
with their atavistic, calisthenic and unapologetically loud
rock 'n' roll, it's unlikely that capitalism will crumble
or that Vera Katz will tender her resignation and start
a crop of dreadlocks.
In fact, this circus of reconstituted has-beens and still-chugging
undergrounders has about as much chance of whipping up an
uprising as a Who reunion tour has of touching off street
brawls between aging contingents of mods and rockers. Any
tour that trumpets the horror-movie schlock 'n' roll of
T.S.O.L. (now more than 20 years old and not so very hot
in its own time) as a key attraction lies exposed to critical
arrows.
Hold on, though. There's something appealing about this
Social Chaos beast--a quality that overcomes the creakiness
of the bands on the bill (precious few of which debuted
in the '80s, let alone this decade). In an age of streaming
digital, the Social Chaos Tour remains awkwardly analog,
as the total dorkiness of its Web site attests. While indie
artistes gaze fondly at their shoes and mutter poetic nonsense
over the most polite rock music ever, the Social Chaos bands
blare slogans and demands over defiant bludgeoning. With
club-kid cachet going for the price of a couple of Technics
turntables and a pair of cargo pants, the Business and
the U.K. Subs go to the mat for the aesthetic of
'77 London. For all its radical bluster, Social Chaos looks
pretty quaint and conservative (in an honorable preservationist
sense).
Certainly, Social Chaos packs loads of charm compared with
its overblown evil twin, the Warped Tour, the corporate-sponsored
"punk-rock summer camp" that rolled through Portland early
this month. With Blink 182 snapping pics for Playboy
along the way and Less Than Jake showing almost admirable
audacity in its groundless claims of renegade cred, the
Warped Tour is punk at its most domesticated. Social Chaos,
meanwhile, harks back to the days when punk's biggest bands
at least sounded dangerous.
There's no shortage of fresh-baked underground music--rock
and otherwise--out there, but it will be interesting to
see what former Dead Kennedys drummer D.H. Peligro
has going these days, and the ragged Brit shout-alongs of
the Business and the Subs will be plenty entertaining. The
main draw of the Social Chaos Tour, ironically, is its decided
lack of a cutting edge. Nostalgia can be poisonous, it's
true, but someone has to keep the home fires burning,
and these 15 bands seem determined to keep 'em roaring hot.
willamette Week
Social
Chaos Tour '99:
T.S.O.L., The Business, U.K. Subs, D.R.I., Sloppy Seconds,
Murphy's Law, D.O.A., Anti-Heroes, Vice Squad, Chelsea, One-Way
System, the Vibrators, Gang Green, LES Stitches, D.H. Peligro
Roseland Theater, 8 NW 6th Ave., 224-8499
9:30 pm Wednesday July 28
$25.25
By the time you read this, New Orleans, Denver, Seattle and
several crappy little California exurbs may lie in streaming
ruins, shattered into miniature metropolitan Kosovos by the
cataclysmic punk-rock force that is the 1999 Social Chaos
Tour.
Originally published July 21. 1999
Willamette Week.