While I still derive pleasure from listening to PUNK ROCK records, I would not want to be teenage again. It’s been a very long time indeed since I last felt any desire to spend every other night in a dank, crowded club watching an endless succession of no-hope bands strut their stuff. However, manic gig attendance does have its uses; if nothing else, going to PUNK ROCK concerts taught me the (psycho)geography of Greater London. And even as a fourteen year old I was smart enough to realise that PUNK ROCK wasn’t profound. We change and yet remain the same. While cretins look for the meaning of life in plastic platters and morons seek it in tomes by Kierkegaard and Kant, ‘intelligence’ is active and knows that the culture we’ve inherited is something to be manipulated rather than passively consumed. Let the dead bury their dead, we will blaze a trail to new modes of being…