Post-punk’s recent revival on either side of the Atlantic is not without a wistfulness from certain segment of the gig-going audience, while the previously heavily-lampooned subgenres of nu-metal and noughties pop-punk have begun to slip in front of the rose-tinted shades of a generation jaded from over a decade of austerity, and longing for a time when optimism was only seen through the filter of polished, sturm-und-drang cultural import. The well-worn uniforms of teenage rebellion that may have sustained many a young person of your writer or your editor’s age (or older) throughout their culturally and socially formative years seem almost romanticised at this point. In the sound-hopping, always-on, premium-subscription language of music fandom in 2019, it’s perhaps for the best that the teenage tribalism of old hasn’t necessarily died, as some observers might like to opine, but rather shifted its shape.
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