Thanks NYC…Joe Strummer…Madison Square Gardeners

64196_10151188532067657_673921856_n(photo by Bob McAdam) Many thanks to all who made it out to the NYC shindig at rockwood music hall on Monday night.  It was a thrill to play for such an attentive audience and nice to have a full house for my first show of 2013!  Many thanks go out to Anton Fier, Chris Morrissey, JP Olsen and Jon Chinn as well.

Next Tuesday night I’m playing Strummerville at Bowery Electric.  It’s an evening of music dedicated to the life of Joe Strummer.  An excellent lineup and house band…Come out and support a great cause.

543975_3652746776538_758155358_n

Lastly, but not least of all, The Madison Square Gardeners are recording a new EP in early February.  Five brand new songs with the original band lineup and producer Adam Lasus (Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Army Navy) on board.  Very exciting.  Thanks for all your love and support.  See you on the road in February with the great Freedy Johnston.

Not Punk

Not Punk-A poem by Aaron Lee Tasjan

Somewhere between smokin’ Joe Strummer and a man who changed his name from Gordon Sumner is what we have come to know as “not punk.”
First, the real punk: Lenny Kaye’s Nuggets.
Built from the underground it was a collection of the largely ignored at the time.
American bands grasping the American dream as it carefully eluded them.
96 tear drops are shed on the turntable as the record goes around again and here we are today still listening.

Someone says, “Dude, that is so not punk,” as Blink-182 stumbles around gacked up on hair dye and long shorts.
Mean while Iggy sits with Tom Waits and smokes another ciggy.

As I sit in an arm chair in Peru, David Johansen explains to a reporter that his band “did not invent punk.”
He resembles Dylan at his press conferences in the 60s…he is articulate and bewildering.
Flights of high octane guitar soar through the hotel lobby as God Save The Queen comes out of the radio.
There is Steve Jones…perhaps punk’s very own John Wayne.
Perhaps the pawn shop receipt for Bowie’s stolen gear should have been signed, “Marion Robert Morrison.”

And now, the shape of punk to come!
And it’s out there…waiting.
In the mean time, I can’t trade in my guitar at the pawn shop for a trust fund lap top and a pitchfork review.
But why would I want to?
That shit is so not punk.