Punk Music Taught Me How to Love
Punk has the ability to imbue us with that intoxicating blend of tenderness and ire, to animate our desire to reshape the world and help us find a positive direction for doing so.
collage by Arjun Bhakoo.
When I was in second grade, my dad sat me down and put on “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard him play it, but this time he asked me to pay careful attention to the lyrics. As I did so, I heard a searing indictment of police brutality and a rallying cry to resist injustice. The song asks its listeners to recognize our complicity in the racist power structures which control our society. And even more importantly, it calls us to reject them. It asks each and every person to stand for what you know is right. The song ends with the line “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me,” repeated sixteen times. That afternoon when my dad sat me down, he made me say the ending refrain over and over again along with the song—he wanted me to feel comfortable saying it out loud. That way, if someone ever told me to do something that I knew was wrong, I would know how to say “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”
My parents raised me on punk music. I spent my childhood peering up at punk rockers on stage, hearing-protection headphones half the size of my little head pressing down on the arms of my glasses. Punk has a reputation for being an angry genre of music, and deservedly so. “Killing in the Name” is a rageful song if there ever was one—hell, the “Rage” is eponymous to the band. But too often another foundational element of punk is overlooked: it’s not just about anger, it’s about love.
Punk pushes against discrimination, against hatred, against slaughter, against ‘the establishment.’ It’s a way to rebel against conformist pressures. Anger without love isn’t punk—it’s everything punk was born to reject. Anger is what gives the establishment power to perpetuate conformist pressures. Even though animosity is a crucial part of the punk ethos, the movement’s true power must come from someplace else. It comes from love. Take The Stooges’ iconic “Search and Destroy,” named for the Vietnam War military tactic which inspired its composition. This song, like so much of the early punk movement, was born out of shock and indignation at a senselessly brutal war. Fittingly, the song is a raw reaction to the horrors of napalm, Agent Orange, and the 7.6 million tons of bombs dropped by American forces. But it is also about “love in the middle of a firefight.” From punk’s inception in the 1970’s it has been a messy fusion of outrage and desire. This signature duality serves as a reminder for the listener that anger and love are indeed two sides of the same coin. It’s a reminder that not only can both exist simultaneously, it’s imperative that they do.
Part of what makes the punk movement such a powerful and enduring force is its multifaceted ability to function as an inspiration, place of acceptance, and outlet for anger. Just as rage can perpetuate repression, it can drive real social change. Punk asks you to be angry about injustice, but a key part of that is cultivating an unabashed love for the world. Love for the world around us strengthens our passion for reshaping it. Punk has the ability to imbue us with that intoxicating blend of tenderness and ire, to animate our desire to reshape the world and help us find a positive direction for doing so.
Amyl and the Sniffers are a band that truly epitomize this philosophy. Since their formation in 2016, they’ve remained true to their original grit without allowing their sound to stagnate. It’s sticky, it’s grainy, it burrows under your skin. Their live shows bring an infectious energy, especially from frontwoman Amy Taylor who never fails to bring uncontainable force onstage with her. At their 2024 show here in Chicago at the Salt Shed, I witnessed bassist Gus Romer shotgun a beer out of a shoe a fan threw on stage mid-set. Having been around for a decade, they’ve made songs about almost everything under the sun. Many reckon with overcoming feelings of helplessness, sticking up for yourself, and sticking up for what you know is right. I started listening to Amyl and the Sniffers when I was in 8th grade, after hearing them for the first time with my mom at Mosswood Meltdown, a punk music festival I went to every year with my parents. The year was 2019. Amyl and the Sniffers had just released their first LP and that tour was the first time they’d ever played in the US. That day at Mosswood Meltdown was the first time I heard their song “Gacked on Anger.” Few songs have embedded themselves into the folds of my brain the way that song has. In her signature rough-hewn voice Taylor screams:
I wanna help out the people on the street
But how can I help them when I can't afford to eat?
How do I survive? How do I get by?
I can't go to sleep 'cause there's trouble in my mind
Her lyrics pose this dilemma, but they don’t necessarily solve it. They don’t need to. What’s so hard-hitting about “Gacked on Anger” is precisely that it doesn’t reconcile the trouble in Taylor’s mind. It simply captivates how frustrating it feels wanting to help the world around you but not feeling able to. By not offering a solution, the song serves as an important reminder that it’s okay to be kind and feel outraged at the same time. They do not have to contradict one another, in fact, “Gacked on Anger” shows how much more sincere they can feel when allowed to be felt together. In every song, Taylor refuses to apologize for any part of who she is or any part of what she feels. Their music helps me remember how proud I am of my heart—and all the anger and love that pumps through it.
Confidence standing up against repression and conformity is one of the most valuable tools in life. It can be hard for people who are raised as girls to learn that it’s alright for us to say “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.” I’m forever grateful to the music that taught me I could. Punk taught me that it’s okay to get angry. But punk also taught me how to love. It taught me how to love my mother, my father, my friends. It taught me how to love myself. More than any of that, it taught me how to keep loving, even when I’m angry. It helps me love myself even when I’m angry with myself, helps me love the world even when it feels hopeless, and keep loving the people in it even when they drive me crazy. It taught me my ire and my tenderness do not have to diminish one another. Anger is the root of repression, it alone cannot be the antidote. For that, we must turn to love.
edited by Madison Esrey.
collage by Arjun Bhakoo.
