The vast majority of the time, he preferred to move on to the subject of music. Lena was suspicious at first, assuming he was simply trying to build rapport with her. Yet as time went on, Lena was surprised at not only how well-versed in music the man was, but how passionate. Truth be told, he knew far more about music than she did by a decidedly wide margin.
“As you know,” Grandfather began one day, “most of the precursors to punk rock stemmed from The Velvet Underground, a pet project of Andy Warhol. He was, of course, one of the—if not the most—influential artists of our age. And when he set about…”
“Sir, uhh… Grandfather sir?” Lena interrupted awkwardly, “Who’s Andy Warhol, and what’s a velvet underground?”
“You… you can’t be serious.” her interrogator had responded in disbelief, “The soup cans? The Marilyn Monroe? Silk-screening?”
“Who’s Marilyn Monroe?”
“You…” he said, pausing as if he had just watched the Hindenburg explode, “you… don’t know who Marilyn Monroe is either?”
“No sir… Grandfather…”
“What in the world are they teaching you in school these days?!”
“How the GDR invented the cure for polio.” Lena answered honestly.
“Balderdash!” he exclaimed, laughing. “In any case, Andy Warhol practically invented the ‘cult of personality’ by definitively inventing ‘pop art’. He was responsible for making the mundane and trivial aspects of artists and actors (and politicians, by extension) just as important as the things they portrayed. Towards this end, Warhol kept a stable of what he called ‘super-stars’ in his Factory—a clique of troubled young people that he used as tastemakers for what would eventually become a social revolution. However, he was also searching for a new sound that he could use to represent the underground S&M, leather and gay scenes of 1960’s New York. This is how he ended up with The Velvet Underground and eventually The New York Dolls, who…”
“Grandfather sir…” Lena interrupted again, “What were the New York Dolls, and what’s S&M?”
The sudden cocktail of sadness and upset wrought on his wizened old face made Lena cringe with embarrassment. Lena was still getting to know his moods and couldn’t possibly know what it took to genuinely upset this man. That said, he honestly looked as if he had just witnessed Lena kicking a puppy down a flight of stairs.
“Lena…” he spoke softly after mopping some unseen sweat from his forehead, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you were locked up in this horrible place. No one your age should ever be allowed to play punk rock music without knowing all of this. So, sit down, shut up, and listen—I have an entire course to teach you!”
On top of being a punk aficionado, her new interrogator was also a huge Patti Smith fan. She was a poet, loosely connected with Andy Warhol, that had apparently been incredibly influential to the punk scene.
“Patti Smith has everything.” her interrogator gushed as if entrapped within a teenage crush.
“She’s edgy, gorgeous, intelligent… and she has that slightly-wounded, troubled, religious-dropout sort-of aura about her poetry. Listen!” he would yell, as he played ‘Gloria’ for the fifth time in a row. “Just listen to it! Do you hear how her voice builds momentum with the instruments?! It’s the single most glorious thing I’ve ever heard in my life!”
As much as he loved punk rock and its many stories, however, he seemed to like obscure, less mainstream scenes even more. It was as if, as a child, he had snuck into the attic and rummaged through several dusty old boxes only to stumble upon a priceless painting from a long-dead artist. He treasured this information as if it was his secret heirloom, imparting its whereabouts judiciously to the rare person he felt might appreciate the worth.
“Noise rock…” he pontificated one day, “found a lot of peripheral origins in the US with bands like Sonic Youth and the John Cale-era of The Velvet Underground. But where it got its purest start was more-or-less in the UK with the band Throbbing Gristle who was hailed as the first industrial band—really, they basically invented the genre.” Grandfather would pop on a record, and the two would listen to “Hamburger Lady”, “Something Came over Me,” and “Valley of the Shadow of Death.” These songs were filled with so many sounds that Lena had never heard or even considered to have existed, it made her head spin. Some were beautiful, others were decidedly not, but they were all new.
“Do you hear that?!” Grandfather would expound excitedly. “You know they recorded this in an old, rotting factory? Listen Lena… you can actually hear the furnaces and machines from the industrial district.” He would go on to describe the meaning behind the music. “It’s not so unlike your music when you break it down. Whereas punk rock seeks to annoy the royal or ruling class and sensibilities of the petit bourgeoisie by being irresponsibly loud and violent… pushing as many boundaries as possible… noise rock actually seeks to represent that same emotion through sound.”
He went on to describe the manufacturing crisis in 1970’s Britain and how the widespread poverty made the youth feel useless and stuck. “Noise rock”, he continued, “was engineered to sound useless and stuck! Whereas the Sex Pistols would famously state ‘There is no future, and England’s dreaming,’ Throbbing Gristle took it a step further as if to describe to the bourgeoisie how it felt to be young and future-less.” He would additionally go on to talk about the Solidarity Movement in Poland and the Big Beat scene, along with the many other Warsaw countries that were beginning to ‘see the musical light’ along with their Western counterparts.
You see,” he said, “these movements are not so different from your punk and hip-hop scene in the GDR. All of these countercultures around the world follow an accurate sense of deep political unrest. Personally, I feel that social revolution, political dissidence and leftist movements are inextricably (and equally) linked to—and fueled by, and primarily expressed through—art. The state lets the young people down and the young people respond with—occasionally explosive—creative force.”
You agree with our punk scene?!” Lena whispered incredulously.
Well, yes and no,” he responded knowingly, “I agree with the fervor, but not with the dogma… or what you young people think passes for it, at least. I love the passion. What I don’t agree with is the misplaced sense of loyalty. You see, all of the young people in these countries have more than one thing in common. Yes, they are revolting, and yes, they have a right to. But whether they know it or not—and they don’t—they are actually revolting against the lack of a community… against the lacking of purpose. And I know it might not seem like it,” he added with a wink, “but moral degradation is to blame as well.”
Lena had made confused facial expressions when he had said that.
“I know you young people are all crazy horny,” he said with another wink, and Lena giggled. “But you have to understand that there’s an elegance in courtship. There’s a correctness to proper social demeanor. Then again, I don’t expect you to understand that at your age. What I would hope you would make the uncommon effort to realize is this: everything they are revolting for in the other countries are things that we are blessed to have in the GDR—community; a sense of morality; progression; a purpose. Perhaps the youth in other countries don’t realize that yet. But you, young Lena, are a leader. You, above all, I hope would have the good sense to realize that.”