Tuesday, February 1, 2011

"Living The Dream"

As I sat last night on a plush leather couch in our green room, drinking free prosecco, munching on kalamata olives, stuffed red peppers and pickled white asparagus, one thought kept going through my head:

This isn’t very punk rock.

The punk rocker in me felt as though he ought to be out in the street, swilling cheap vodka with some local brain-damaged Neanderthals, urinating on public monuments and frightening the pigeons.  If I were a Real Punk Rocker, I would see this plush, amenity-laden green room for what it was: a symbol of bourgeois luxury and oppression, a symbol of class warfare, of the pervasive inequality of modern capitalism. I would stand up, scream: “fuck the rich!” throw my freshly baked brochette across the room, and go out to raise hell with other members of the working class.

Luckily for me, I am not a Real Punk Rocker, I am a weedy twat from Edmonton who likes freshly whipped pesto. Class struggle gives me a rash. “Squidney!  Why yes, another espresso for me, thanks very much old bean!  Have you seen this youtube video of the riots in Egypt?  Ghastly affair.  Yes, two sugar cubes, please.  But no biscuit on the side, my tummy has gone a little squiffy.”

In the van, Real Punk Rock bands sleep off hangovers and heroin crashes, pausing only to vomit on the side of the highway, their Mohawks waving gently in the breeze.  The Dreadnoughts, on the other hand, pull out their laptops and watch The Inbetweeners, play NBA 2010 or Super Mario Land, and listen to Glenn Gould whenever possible.  I’ve even developed a little tradition of opening one of our many free bottles of red wine and pouring myself a little glass while I watch season 1 of “All in The Family” or season 2 of “Rome”.  Cockface and I are going to have a Super Mario Tennis tournament today.  It’s awesome.

Now, before you think that we’ve gone soft on you, rest assured, this is all quite new to us. Certainly, the previous 250 European shows were not played in such circumstances.  In 2009, we spent two months sleeping in the van, destroying our livers every day and eating nothing but Polish “Chakalaka”-flavoured chips for weeks on end.  While you were sipping coffee at work, I was sleeping on a muddy hill in god damned France, shivering, cradling the bottle of whiskey that kept me warm, and trying to ignore the ever-increasing sound of wolves howling.  You think I’m not going to put my feet up and eat my pickled white asparagus?  You think I’m not going to sip fine rotwein from the banks of the Rhine and watch Archie Bunker yell at his wife?  Fucking god damned fucking right I am.

“Living the Dream”, a phrase that has officially lost all traces of irony for us.  We are truly living it.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, this free hotel breakfast ‘aint just going to eat itself.  One poached egg, or two?  Hmmm.  Such difficult choices we face in this life.


  1. The least punk thing ever is arguing about what is or isn't punk rock

  2. Enjoy it while it lasts - it will be a half eaten kebab and a sore arse when ya stays in Brizzle. Moscow? Some mouldy cabbage and some goose fat on the end of yer snork.

  3. It always makes me chuckle when someone dictates what is and is not punk rock. There is a song that says it all I think "The rules of rebellion are written in stone complete with ten commandments and our own dress code if your convicted of normality we'll put you away, the punk police are on their way". Ya...because to be an anti-conformist you need to conform to the image of anti-conformists. That makes sense. Live the dream guys, live the dream.

  4. Dear The Dreadnoughts:

    I am intoxicated at the moment, as is only proper when addressing the world champions of awesome shitfacedness. Unfortunately I am also not very punk rock, since my night has thus far consisted of making freshly baked bread, drinking vodka smoothies, and playing Boggle.

    I merely wished to express my complete admiration for your music. Especially your violinist. He fucking rocks. Adjectives are hard to find, so I'll just settle for making 'unh' noises at the screen. That should work, right?

    I don't know how to end this, but I LOVE YOU.

  5. so when am i gonna see ya in feckin england? i may well be dead if you don't frame yerselves.....
    all the best boys, feckin great sound, don't over do the posh bread..i'm on peanuts and beer
    hope to catch up and see you somewhere on this godforesaken shithole...kieron

  6. Honestly i think punkrock is a waste of time. it was fun in highschool but leave it in its place. listen to music not because its punk but because it makes you happy! this philosphy is the reason i am able to wear a deadmilkmen tattoo on my forearm!

  7. Bahahahaha!!!! YES! Enjoy the good life!!! I love to see great Canadian bands going somewhere. Red Deer Alberta says HI!!!!!!

  8. Part of me says "good..keep doing what makes you produce good music" but goddamn you guys are nice and fucking good at what you do. Its not very punk rock to make it big.. but I hope you guys get paid!

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