by Sean Mahan

Remember when Punk was dangerous, man?

The time: 1974. The place: CBGB, Manhattan. The band: The Ramones.

Four ugly, drunk dudes all wearing black leather jackets stumble on stage.  They can barely hold their own instruments, and most of them can't sing and play at the same time.  Despite looking nothing alike, these four rockers - Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee, and Tommy - all share the last name Ramone.

Their songs clock under two minutes, but it's two minutes of all meat, no fat or grizzle.  Everyone in the audience is jumping up and down, mosh pits break out, the slam dancers emerge, and everyone's singing, even if they don't know the words.  This is Punk rock.

The same thing is happening an Atlantic ocean away.

The time: 1975. The Place: St. Martin's College, London. The band: The Sex Pistols.

Four young, pimply-faced teenagers in torn clothing and counter-culture hair walk on stage.  It was their first gig playing with the name "The Sex Pistols."  Johnny Rotten grabs the microphone and starts screaming his songs at the audience.  Steve Jones smiles, having recently handed the position of singing over to Rotten, and starts hammering on power chords as fast and hard as he can.

Paul Cook tries to twirl a drumstick and drops it, sharing a brief laugh with bassist Glen Matlock, who was later replaced with the legendary Sid Vicious (although he was more of a legend for stabbing his girlfriend than playing bass).  The plug was pulled on them before they even finished their set.  They released only one album in that state.

It was the middle of the seventies.  Kids were tired of listening to pop and disco, and began to rebel.  This Anti-culture rebellion took place in the form of Punk Rock.

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