On 7th June 1977, the Sex Pistols and a coterie of pals and hangers-on, threw a party on a pleasure boat on the Thames. The band played, drinks were consumed and eventually the river police forced them to dock. Malcolm McLaren was arrested, Richard Branson lost his deposit. The escapade was a planned protest against the establishment generally and the Queen's jubilee specifically - and, although it has passed into rock history, its impact as a political statement was dilute at best.
There was no real jeopardy, you see. And therefore no real friction. McLaren knew the cops had turned a beady eye on punk and its associates, so he could be pretty sure the party would draw the constabulary's attention. Another slice of controversy and coverage for his band and more grist to the media mill. But raw rebellion? Not particularly. Indeed, the very fact the Pistols were able to release and sell the magnificent 'God Save The Queen' single in jubilee week, indicates they were operating in a rather progressive democracy with a relatively relaxed approach to freedom of speech. Sure, the chart had a blank space at the number one spot - but the consequences of questioning the monarchy were no more dangerous than that (without wishing to diminish the discomfort of a thumping from royalist thugs). In short, to be a punk in 1977 didn't take an enormous amount of courage, no matter how culturally exciting it felt.
On February 21st 2012, five members of the female punk band Pussy Riot, wearing dayglo balaclavas, performed at the Cathedral of Christ The Saviour in Moscow. They omitted to tell the church authorities about the gig and, not unlike the Pistols' river trip, the show was rapidly interrupted by security officers. Within a couple of hours, the action had been uploaded to the web and named "Punk Prayer - Mother of God, Chase Putin Away!".
Had this happened in Britain, an account may have made the evening news, and the usual commentators would probably have indulged in a short-lived, high-brow debate on the matter. But this was 21st century Russia and they do things very differently there.
On March 3, 2012 Pussy Rioters Nadezhda Tolokonnikova and Maria Alyokhina, were arrested and charged with hooliganism. Another, Yekaterina Samutsevich, was apprehended on March 16. All were denied bail.
By August they had been tried and convicted of 'religious hatred'. The sentence was two years' imprisonment apiece. On appeal Samutsevich was freed on probation, but Tolokonnikova and Alyokhina had their punishments upheld. Vladimir Putin went public and made his position clear: the band undermined the moral fabric of the country and they deserved nothing better.
Pussy Riot is musical and political collective with a membership rotating through a dozen women. Anonymity is very much part of their modus operandi. Almost always covered with bright hoods, they use pseudonyms (very much a punk trope): 'Cat', 'Seraph', 'Terminator' and so on. Heavily influenced by Britain's punk movement, this is how they describe themselves:
"What we have in common is impudence, politically loaded lyrics, the importance of feminist discourse and a non-standard female image."
A statement that could easily have emanated from our own Crass or The Poison Girls. However for Pussy Riot, the stance is shot through with risk. Modern Russia is a worryingly illiberal environment. Recent anti-gay legislation, and restrictions on women's rights, have created an atmosphere of intolerance and loathing. Dissent is criminalised and the spectre of the Soviet era looms large. Not only does the government meet protest with a heavy fist, but many citizens support their actions. To form a radical feminist punk band in this climate takes a level of bravery and self-sacrifice the Pistols and The Clash may have found hard to stomach. If you'll pardon the contradiction, cranking out a song called 'Putin Is Pissing Himself' in the middle of Red Square, requires solid cojones.
Pussy Riot's music isn't a thing of beauty. While British punk acts often claimed to be musically inept ('We're not into music, we're into chaos' ran the manifesto), many bands were actually pleasingly tight rock outfits. In contrast, Pussy Riot genuinely appear to be unfamiliar with their instruments. That's hardly the point, though. The group aren't in the business of selling records, appearing on TV and setting out on concert tours - which our punks assuredly were. Pussy Riot exist to be a thorn in the side of Putin's draconian regime, and they're prepared to suffer great hardship for their cause.
If you think The IK-2 and IK-14 penal colonies sound like something from Kafka, you'd be right. These are the locations to which Tolokonnikova and Alyokhina were dispatched to serve their sentences. There, the women were reportedly treated with contempt by fellow prisoners and guards alike. They asked to be segregated for their own safety and Tolokonnikova undertook a hunger strike. Frighteningly, earlier this month, she disappeared - her husband and family realising with horror that she was no longer an inmate at IK-2.
After 26 days, they found her. She was an in-patient at a penal hospital in Siberia. Fortunately, the conditions there are more comfortable than those of the prison colony and her health hasn't been seriously damaged.
Punk's initial driving force was a desire to question and disrupt the cultural status quo. Of course, in the UK, it soon became subsumed by the mainstream. Defused and commodified, and with the tacit approval of some key players, any threat it may have wielded was too easily smoothed and tranquilised. The Russian establishment is obviously not remotely interested in that sort of compromise and a state of hostility continues between the government and Pussy Riot.
As it's hard to see either side capitulating, the fierce friction and stark jeopardy that UK punk needed so badly, is ablaze to our east. With that in mind, it is just possible that Pussy Riot are the only authentic punk band we will ever know.
There was no real jeopardy, you see. And therefore no real friction. McLaren knew the cops had turned a beady eye on punk and its associates, so he could be pretty sure the party would draw the constabulary's attention. Another slice of controversy and coverage for his band and more grist to the media mill. But raw rebellion? Not particularly. Indeed, the very fact the Pistols were able to release and sell the magnificent 'God Save The Queen' single in jubilee week, indicates they were operating in a rather progressive democracy with a relatively relaxed approach to freedom of speech. Sure, the chart had a blank space at the number one spot - but the consequences of questioning the monarchy were no more dangerous than that (without wishing to diminish the discomfort of a thumping from royalist thugs). In short, to be a punk in 1977 didn't take an enormous amount of courage, no matter how culturally exciting it felt.
On February 21st 2012, five members of the female punk band Pussy Riot, wearing dayglo balaclavas, performed at the Cathedral of Christ The Saviour in Moscow. They omitted to tell the church authorities about the gig and, not unlike the Pistols' river trip, the show was rapidly interrupted by security officers. Within a couple of hours, the action had been uploaded to the web and named "Punk Prayer - Mother of God, Chase Putin Away!".
Had this happened in Britain, an account may have made the evening news, and the usual commentators would probably have indulged in a short-lived, high-brow debate on the matter. But this was 21st century Russia and they do things very differently there.
On March 3, 2012 Pussy Rioters Nadezhda Tolokonnikova and Maria Alyokhina, were arrested and charged with hooliganism. Another, Yekaterina Samutsevich, was apprehended on March 16. All were denied bail.
By August they had been tried and convicted of 'religious hatred'. The sentence was two years' imprisonment apiece. On appeal Samutsevich was freed on probation, but Tolokonnikova and Alyokhina had their punishments upheld. Vladimir Putin went public and made his position clear: the band undermined the moral fabric of the country and they deserved nothing better.
Pussy Riot is musical and political collective with a membership rotating through a dozen women. Anonymity is very much part of their modus operandi. Almost always covered with bright hoods, they use pseudonyms (very much a punk trope): 'Cat', 'Seraph', 'Terminator' and so on. Heavily influenced by Britain's punk movement, this is how they describe themselves:
"What we have in common is impudence, politically loaded lyrics, the importance of feminist discourse and a non-standard female image."
A statement that could easily have emanated from our own Crass or The Poison Girls. However for Pussy Riot, the stance is shot through with risk. Modern Russia is a worryingly illiberal environment. Recent anti-gay legislation, and restrictions on women's rights, have created an atmosphere of intolerance and loathing. Dissent is criminalised and the spectre of the Soviet era looms large. Not only does the government meet protest with a heavy fist, but many citizens support their actions. To form a radical feminist punk band in this climate takes a level of bravery and self-sacrifice the Pistols and The Clash may have found hard to stomach. If you'll pardon the contradiction, cranking out a song called 'Putin Is Pissing Himself' in the middle of Red Square, requires solid cojones.
Pussy Riot's music isn't a thing of beauty. While British punk acts often claimed to be musically inept ('We're not into music, we're into chaos' ran the manifesto), many bands were actually pleasingly tight rock outfits. In contrast, Pussy Riot genuinely appear to be unfamiliar with their instruments. That's hardly the point, though. The group aren't in the business of selling records, appearing on TV and setting out on concert tours - which our punks assuredly were. Pussy Riot exist to be a thorn in the side of Putin's draconian regime, and they're prepared to suffer great hardship for their cause.
If you think The IK-2 and IK-14 penal colonies sound like something from Kafka, you'd be right. These are the locations to which Tolokonnikova and Alyokhina were dispatched to serve their sentences. There, the women were reportedly treated with contempt by fellow prisoners and guards alike. They asked to be segregated for their own safety and Tolokonnikova undertook a hunger strike. Frighteningly, earlier this month, she disappeared - her husband and family realising with horror that she was no longer an inmate at IK-2.
After 26 days, they found her. She was an in-patient at a penal hospital in Siberia. Fortunately, the conditions there are more comfortable than those of the prison colony and her health hasn't been seriously damaged.
Punk's initial driving force was a desire to question and disrupt the cultural status quo. Of course, in the UK, it soon became subsumed by the mainstream. Defused and commodified, and with the tacit approval of some key players, any threat it may have wielded was too easily smoothed and tranquilised. The Russian establishment is obviously not remotely interested in that sort of compromise and a state of hostility continues between the government and Pussy Riot.
As it's hard to see either side capitulating, the fierce friction and stark jeopardy that UK punk needed so badly, is ablaze to our east. With that in mind, it is just possible that Pussy Riot are the only authentic punk band we will ever know.
