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The Performativity of Punk: Construction, Performance and Redefinition of the Punk Identity
It is difficult to trace Punk back to a specific genesis; some claim it started in America in the late 1960s with the Stooges and the Velvet Underground, while others place its origins in
England with the Sex Pistols in the mid 1970s. Regardless, in both regions of the world and within a short time span, the axioms of music, performance and styles of living and dress were shifting. This shift has been collectively termed ‘Punk’ and the movement not only redefined music as it had been known, but created a new performance genre in which identity was a key component, and was constantly being constructed, performed and reshaped. Punk served as a departure from previously established aesthetics concerning sound, style and performance and developed into the antithesis of propriety and order. While those engaged in the study of Punk are now beginning to analyze it as a performance type in addition to a music genre, the role of the Punk identity in cultivating the genre and developing a unique performance type has not been adequately discussed.
This paper examines Punk as something that was created through performance, which is the crux of performative theory. The performance of Punk is the personification of chaos as an aesthetic, and utilizes an aggressive, interactive performance style established by Punk forerunners on and offstage. While looking at these figures, it is important to keep in mind that they are not representatives of Punk, but are essentially ‘Punk’ because it was via performance that Punk was created. Consider the classic “chicken and the egg” model, with the question being, “Which came first, Punk or Punks?” I argue that the answer is Punks (i.e. Punk performers). The identities that these performers developed and consistently performed resulted 2
in the collective identity of ‘Punk’. I use three well-known front-men, Johnny Rotten, Ian Dury and Iggy Pop, as examples, and I look closely at their performances in front of private and public audiences in order to explore the effect that Punk performers had on shifting the weight from what (musically) was being performed within Punk culture to how it was performed.
Part of this shift had to do with the concept that Punk musicians, including performers other than front men and women, did not have to necessarily be musically talented, as long as they could make a spectacle and put on a show. An infamous example of spectacle supplementing musical ability was Sid Vicious, the bassist for the Sex Pistols. Marco Pirroni, musician, songwriter, producer and former member of the 1970s punk band “Adam and the Ants” remembered thinking
When Sid joined [the Sex Pistols] he’d figured they
would make him learn proper. But they never did.
Sid just fucked about […] After that it was nothing
to do with music anymore. It would just be for the
sensationalism and scandal of it all.
(Lydon, 223)
Here Pirroni emphasizes the importance of showmanship over musicianship within Punk culture, and how the manifestation of the Punk identity often lent itself to scandal and extremity.
I argue that the scandalous and theatrical1 Punk identity was formed and continually adapted in response to shifting social contexts; within these contexts, the identity was performative. In addition, the Punk identity, though often influx, gains its strength from the continuity of performance both on and offstage. Drawing upon the work of scholars Johannes Fabian, Erving
1 My use of theatrical here is not intended to mean excessively dramatic or contrived, but rather, heightened. 3
Goffman and Judith Butler (who theorized performativity), I identify the onstage and offstage identities perpetuated by Punk performers, consider how these identities were created and address why they fluctuated. In particular, I use Fabian’s concept of a performer both "being and not being" their performed identity, Goffman’s concept of ‘cynical’ and ‘sincere’ performance2, and Butler’s theory of gender as being constituted through a series of performative acts as applied to the Punk identity3. I have been especially interested in combining Goffman’s ‘cynical’ and ‘sincere’ performance types with a cyclical approach, observing the varying degrees of cynicism and sincerity in a performance, as affected by social context. Finally, I show how the degree to which the Punk performer was taken in by their performance and believed in the identity they created for themselves was dependent upon their environment and audience type.
My contribution to the study of Punk as a performance genre and to theatre in general is to show that the Punk identity is performative because it is dependent upon social context and is therefore generated as “in-the-moment” responses to specific people, interactions and environments. The Punk identity is an extreme example of how an identity is performed, and therefore the performative moments will be used as a model because those moments are particularly clear. We will look at how Punk identity took shape and continued to develop and restructure itself as Punk performers transitioned between performance contexts, reacting impulsively to new environments. In order to do this I have analyzed Punk performance through a performative lens rather than an informative lens; in other words, I have looked at Punk as a doing that constituted a making, instead of a doing which yielded a faking or mere representation of Punk.
2 Goffman, Erving. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. 3 Butler, Judith. "Performative Acts and Gender Constitution: An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory." 4
Through this I have shown that the Punk identity was not merely a guise that was adopted to fit within Punk culture, but rather, the performance of the Punk identity constituted Punk culture. It was by means of performativity that Punks performed consistently on and offstage in response to shifting social contexts, and a community of young performers were able to immerge which have since been referred to as “Punks.”
Secondary Literature: What’s Been Said and Left Unsaid
The advent of Punk has inspired generations both musically and stylistically, and therefore much of the secondary literature that has been generated has been focused on these elements of the culture. In order to understand and explain Punk and its very distinct aesthetic, many scholars have endeavored to compare it to other art genres. As for literature on Punk performers, most is purely biographical as opposed to analytical. Though some secondary sources have touched upon the creation of a Punk identity or “alter-ego”, none have focused analytically on how the Punk identity was developed and performed by individuals. In order to place my work within the larger context of Punk research and to understand this gap in the scholarship, it is important to acknowledge what other scholars have already contributed.
Many who have studied the Punk genre have done so through an informative lens, which is a way of perceiving “knowledge only[as] what is based on data first gathered and then controlled by the collector” (Fabian, 179). The drawback to using an informative methodology is that performances are held at a distance rather than engaged with, as in Susanna Lee’s essay “Punk
Noir”: Anarchy in Two Idioms. Her lack of participant knowledge prevents her from making a compelling comparison between noir crime-fiction and Punk. Often the knowledge that could have been gained from a performative approach is forfeited because the performance presents a 5
threat to the knowledge that has already been established. (Fabian, 179) Instead of an interaction with the performance, Lee has chosen to remain an observer and elaborate on the dark visual qualities inherently associated with Punk in order to juxtapose it with another dark art form. The approach Lee takes in her essay is to acknowledge the aesthetic of Punk in relation to the aesthetic of noir crime drama. Lee claims to work from an understanding of the Punk aesthetic and atmosphere, which positions her as an observer of the culture and shapes her informative approach. While both Punk and noir crime drama are acknowledged as having “the same aesthetic terrain” and a propensity toward the “ironic contamination of the everyday” Lee does not examine how, in regards to Punk, the characteristics were developed and articulated
(Susanna Lee, 6). Similarly, Sinda Gregory’s essay Junk and Punk Aesthetics compares Punk music with junk fiction, and claims that the Punk genre provides audiences with a sense of pleasure and mental stimulation through its divergent aesthetic. However, Gregory also doesn’t venture to explain how the aesthetic was created or performed, but instead appeals to the effect of the aesthetic and it’s likeness to a deviant form of literature. Both Gregory and Lee’s essays approach Punk from the outside, describing from a bystanders point-of-view the “big picture” of
Punk, but neither account for the construction of the genre from within.
In addition to comparing Punk to other art forms, Punk has also been juxtaposed with different performance types, resulting in sub-genres such as “punk cabaret” and “pop punk.” It is particularly interesting to observe the aspects of Punk which are co-opted by other performance genres in the process of performing a Punk fusion piece. In Roger Babb’s review of the Punk- inspired production of the Kabuki play Drum of the Waves of Horikawa, Babb does a great job highlighting the facets of Punk which were extracted and enacted by performers outside of Punk culture in order to imitate Punk. The important thing to remember here is that in this case, the 6
performance of Punk is a representation, not a creation. In the production, Punk performance is merged with traditional Kabuki performance, and Babb’s review acknowledges the strong physical vocabulary that is used to invoke a Punk flare. In doing so, Babb recognizes physical vocabulary as a trademark of Punk, and a foundation upon which other performers can build when attempting to perform “punk” outside of the culture. Babb’s review of the Theatre of a
Two-Headed Calf’s Punk adaptation of the Kabuki play was approached using reception theory, because Babb experienced the performance as an audience member. Babb, who is an actor, director, playwright and professor of theatre, also analyzed the production through the lens of his performance background. Specifically Babb noted how the production was a display of how
Punk can be translated by performers outside of the culture, and reenacted using the distinct physicality present in Punk performance as a key to replicating (though not embodying) the Punk identity. Babb acknowledges that Punk has an “elaborate gestural system” which is immediately identifiable as “punk” (Babb, 21) and cites composer Brendan Connelly in saying that the
“watch-me-while-I’m-doing-this quality” is the essence of Punk performance and is the essence of Punk showmanship. However, Babb nor Connelly elaborate upon what constitutes this characteristic of Punk performance or describe it any further. Since the quality implies spectacle and irony, it seems to fall on the side of ‘cynical performance’ so called by Erving Goffman, which is the performance of an identity in which the performer does not believe. However, since
Babb doesn’t pursue the nature of the Kabuki-Punk fusion performance any more deeply in contrast to actual Punk performance, his analysis of the cynicism and sincerity of Punk performers is not supplied. Also, beyond addressing the physicality of Punk performance, Babb does not touch upon the actual Punks who generated the physical vocabulary as an expression of their performed identities. 7
In contrast to the other scholars discussed, Oliver Double does make the shift from discussing the aesthetics of Punk performance to actually analyzing specific Punk performers. In
Double’s essay Punk Rock as Popular Theatre he begins by highlighting the “non-musical performance” of Punk, claiming “musical virtuosity is less important than energy, excitement and self-expression” (Double, 37). In this way, Double does what many others have failed to do, which is to make the shift from emphasizing the music and style of Punk to highlighting the central importance of identity within Punk culture. Unlike past scholars, Double moves beyond an informative approach, as well as analysis based on audience reception. What is distinctive about Double’s perspective is that he is an English stand-up comedian, who also helps instruct other stand-up comedian, therefore his experience of performance is two-fold. What
Double is able to say about Punk performance also stems from his understanding of British music hall, which has a strong tradition of comedy performance being linked with musical performance. The linking of these two performance genres yielded a multi-dimensional musical performance in which the entertainment value often lay in the showmanship and theatricality of the performer. As with music hall, Double asserts that Punk is also “a form of theatre rather than simply the performance of music” (Double, 36), emphasizing the theatricality of performance as opposed to the performance content. To support his claim, Double draws on an interview which is transcribed in Jon Savage’s book England’s Dreaming: Anarchy, Sex Pistols, Punk Rock and
Beyond. The interview took place in 1976, after the Sex Pistols had just made their first record deal. Upon being interviewed by Bill Grundy on a local London evening TV show, two members of the Sex Pistols were goaded by Grundy into using profanity. This interview, more than their music itself, allowed the Sex Pistols to “first achieve major recognition” (37). The crude, foul- mouthed and filthy persona that the Sex Pistols are now known for was an image partly projected 8
by the performance of their Punk identities during this early social interaction. But instead of acknowledging social context as a factor in the construction of the Punk identity, as exhibited in this example, Double attributes it to “the mysterious quality of charisma” (42). Double associates the success of Punk not with the performance of a developed identity, but with the
“inherent quality” of stage presence which is attributed to a natural charisma (42). Double continues to say that “charisma is important because […] punk emphasizes the personality of the performers…” and stresses that the Punk performer “is not an actor playing a fictional character, but an expression of the performer’s self with varying degrees of authenticity” (42). For this reason Double claims that during a Punk performance, “the boundary between life and art are blurred” (42). Double’s acknowledgement that Punk performers are not merely acting but expressing facets of themselves is correct but not because of the blurring of the life/art boundary he suggests. I would argue that the difference between the personality of a performer and their constructed identity cannot so clearly be defined as ‘life’ and ‘art’. The term ‘art’ implies the imitation of life, but the performative approach defines an activity, such as the performance of an identity, as something which creates what it describes, rather than merely imitating or representing. In other words, the doing constitutes the being, not merely the imitation of being.
The tendency of scholars to compare and contrast Punk with other art forms also implies a desire to look at Punk as an imitation, rather than the constitution, of being.
Rotten, Dury and Pop: The Youth of Yesterday
Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols, Ian Dury of the Blockheads and Iggy Pop of the
Stooges are each significant figures within Punk culture who cultivated an identity and style of performance which has been shaped by their very different social contexts. Rotten is often 9
associated with the advent of Punk, and began (inadvertently) building the foundations of Punk style through a lack of money and a resistance to the norm. He began performing in London in the 1970s, which is considered by many as the main artery of Punk culture. Dury’s roots were in music hall that lent itself to comedy and theatricality, and he began performing in the 1970s in
London’s Pub Rock circuit. Pop is American, and began performing in the 1960s before Punk had been fully realized in Britain; his musical roots were in blues and he was influenced early on by African American performers in Chicago. These front men developed and maintained their onstage personas in varying degrees as they continued to shift between different social contexts as their careers took shape. The performance of the Punk identity was not merely an act, but a constituting of Punk culture both through its performative nature and through its consistent performance and response to social context.
I. Johnny Rotten
Rotten is often referred to as the “godfather” of Punk because he began performing what became Punk before it was identified or solidified as a genre.
Journalist Charles M. Young first met John Lydon, A.k.a Johnny Rotten in the summer of
1977 when he was sent to England to interview the Sex Pistols for Rolling Stone Magazine.
Young’s first impression of Rotten was that he had “a very, very effective stage persona, which he maintained offstage” making him “a really obnoxious human being” and a very difficult person to interview (Young). Young admitted that after interviewing Rotten seven or eight times during his career “if [he] never had to talk to him again it would be just fine” (Young). He recounted a much later interview with Rotten which took place in a restaurant in Beverly Hills,
California (long after the Sex Pistols had disbanded) and describes how Rotten continued to maintain the persona he had first exhibited during his Punk career years earlier. 10
[Johnny] was drinking double screwdrivers, several of them,
and he was getting drunker and drunker and drunker. There
were rumors in the punk community [at that time] that Johnny Rotten
and Malcolm McLaren [former manager of the Sex Pistols] had
been a couple, like an item. I thought that was impossible
because I knew how much they hated each other. But I
thought I should at least ask about it and I did. John was
just incredibly offended. He was getting angrier and angrier.
He climbed up on top of the table and he looked down at me and
he just screamed at the top of his lungs in this crowded, upscale
sushi restaurant, “Nobody ever stuck his willy in my bum!”
(Young)
This instance exemplifies the way in which Rotten maintained the Punk persona that he had developed onstage in his daily life. By standing up on top of the table he created a platform for himself to perform in front of the entire restaurant, when he could have very easily kept the exchange between Young and himself. Instead, Rotten created a larger audience for himself which supports Young’s claim that “in my experience, [Johnny Rotten] always maintained [his onstage persona] offstage” (Young).
Young described Rotten as “the absolute alpha male” among the Sex Pistols because “he would make you feel completely inferior and like a fraud, and he could do that to anybody”
(Young). Remembering times when he would go out to dinner with Rotten and a group of people, Young recalls how Rotten would “figure out who the most insecure person was [at the 11
table] and scapegoat them. It really kind of made me hate him” (Young). This characteristic of
Rotten’s identity was also played out onstage, only instead of alienating someone at the dinner table, Rotten would alienate and verbally abuse members of the audience. Rotten’s tendency to isolate and humiliate those that he deemed weak seemed to work as a defense mechanism in social settings, key for someone who was “absolutely embarrassed as all hell” at even having to sing in front of his band mates (Lydon, 79). Rotten once discussed how he would “die of nerves before [he’d] go onstage ‘cos [he didn’t] know what [he was] gonna do” (Double, 38). Looking back, Rotten admitted that “when you don’t know who you are, it takes a lot to get to the point where you throw yourself into the fire in front of other people” (79). In order to perform within a public context, Rotten developed an abrasive, abusive relationship with his audience while onstage that he consistently applied to his interactions with people offstage as well. Young remembers how part of the effectiveness of Rotten’s identity as a performer was achieved through his physicality. When Rotten performed in front of an audience he would “get that glare on his face and kind of hunch over […] he would snarl and he had those piercing eyes... He was a very effective purveyor of attitude” (Young). Describing his own stage persona Rotten has often been cited saying that “[his] sources were film, theatre, and Richard III because Olivier’s performance was outrageously over the top” (Double, 38).
Several people who were involved in early Punk culture have also commented on the theatricality of Johnny Rotten’s performances, and as English filmmaker Julien Temple puts it, this caused the Sex Pistols to be “more than a band. It was a theatrical presence onstage” (Lydon,
77). The heightened and specific way of singing, speaking, playing, dressing and communicating which was employed by Rotten contributed to the overall aesthetic of Punk which was being developed during this time. Journalist Caroline Coon felt that “what Johnny was doing with the 12
Sex Pistols was dramatizing rage” (77) and as Rotten’s impromptu performance in the sushi restaurant demonstrates, he has continued to dramatize rage offstage as a way of coping with social tension. The consistency of his identity as ‘Johnny Rotten’ has been so well maintained that Young explains how “[With] most rock stars, there’s a particular thing they do onstage, and offstage you can have a normal conversation with them. But Johnny Rotten is not someone you would ever have a normal conversation with” (Young). For this reason Young attributes Rotten’s
“[closeness] to the center of Punk” with having “a lot to do with that aspect of maintaining your persona offstage” within the culture (Young). Rotten set a precedent for performance through his consistency and in this way he resisted a mere onstage act in preference for a fully formed onstage identity that contributed to the larger Punk identity.
II. Ian Dury
Dury was accepted within Punk culture largely on behalf of the endearing and theatrical onstage identity that he exhibited onstage and offstage with the same amount of zeal. While
Dury’s band The Blockheads did not have an exclusively Punk sound but more of a funk/blues fusion, Dury’s identity was very attractive within Punk culture because he exhibited very similar qualities of performance. In this way Dury is another example of how a Punk’s identity as a performer can trump their musicality, because despite musical differences, Dury is considered a part of the Punk community.
Dury was one of the most colorful and unexpected stage personas to take the stage during the
Punk era; he was “severely struck by polio at the age of seven” resulting in the loss of his left leg 13
and the withering of his left arm (Monty Smith). According to journalist Monty Smith of New
Musical Express these are “[facts] you forget within seconds of meeting him, such is the strength of his character” (Smith). For Smith’s 1977 article on Ian Dury’s band the Blockheads, he interviewed Dury after a show at Eric’s Club in Liverpool, during which Dury “[hid] his depression behind a tumbler of Remy Martin”, upset about his performance that night (Smith).
Remarking on the intimate venue, Dury said he “[liked] the closeness but [he] couldn’t handle it.
[He] was scared shitless. […] Partly because it was little, [and] we could only use half our resources” (Smith). Although the technical resources were limited to only a half-size PA system,
Dury’s personal resources were utilized to the fullest. Dury boasted a large assortment of props and costume pieces for his “ragged-arse Robert Newton”-esque stage persona including “gaudy garters and handkerchiefs and a pair of crotchless unmentionables worn over his trousers”
(Smith). His clunky prosthetic added to the pirate allusion, while the “Chaplinesque gesture at the end of the opening number—an elegant doffing of his battered brown bowler—[marked] him as a man intimate with the intricacies of stage acting” (Smith). Dury’s onstage theatrics were well received by audiences, particularly Punk audiences, because of his ability to create an intimate theatrical experience instead of a cold, non-interactive performance. Dury’s capacity to break the fourth wall during a performance, allowing his performance to be openly effected by the audience is key to the authenticity sought within Punk performance.
In addition to his theatrics, Dury’s onstage persona was gruff and naturally comedic, which is compellingly likeable or at least laughable. These qualities are translated to his offstage persona as well, as evidenced by his banter with Smith backstage about how “if [he] falls down
[onstage], it’d be visual, anyway” (Smith). This comment exhibits the playfulness that Dury engages with on and offstage, and which keeps his crudeness authentic, rather than affected. For 14
example, that night in Liverpool Dury became increasingly agitated with the sound equipment, yelling at the ‘ringing’ mike that “All the other equipment [was] on hire, but you’re MINE!!” and eventually taking his frustration out on the sound man who stood in the wings, rushing offstage and “flobbing in [his] general direction” (Smith). That night “there was no encore”, hence the post-show depression (Smith). Despite his audiences adverse reaction, what can be said about this moment onstage is that the anger exhibited was performed as a natural outcropping of
Dury’s identity and wasn’t an attempt at being Punk. Moments like these in which a performer’s identity is reshaped as it is being enacted are what point to the identity being performative; not only that, but these kinds of moments have also contributed to the need for Punk to be an expression of as well as a reaction to something real, even if it is merely poor sound equipment.
The audience’s reaction was crucial because it exhibited a willingness to openly express distaste, rather than a polite acceptance of what is presented; this in itself is the foundation of the Punk movement, and has been heavily aided by performative moments such as this.
Dury’s effectiveness at drawing out reactions from his audience is also apparent in another situation that occurred offstage several years later. In order to portray Ian Dury in the film Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll actor Andy Serkis met with Dury, whom he had loved growing up because “he was so witty and original and had overcome so much” (Simon Hattenstone). But upon meeting Dury, Serkis said “he was obnoxious […] he slagged everyone off and was just an arse” (Hattenstone). Later that night Mickey Gallagher, a member of the Blockheads who was caring for Dury at that time, had enough and “left [Dury] on the pavement outside the hotel” saying “Fuck this, I’m not doing it anymore” (Hattenstone). But in a way the crudeness is what many people, Serkis included, “loved about Dury—he was anything but a sanitized victim” or a
“stoic underdog” (Hattenstone). Dury may have juggled and “produced scarves from his blazer 15
sleeves” onstage, but the characteristics of his persona were maintained both on and offstage, and this consistency endeared him to his audience enough to make his flaws forgivable (Double, 36).
Dury seemed to especially rely on comedy as a way of navigating social situations, such as in his backstage interview with Monty Smith. When Smith asked about his “fixations” Dury didn’t
“elaborate beyond intoning, the human leg is a source of delight, it carries your weight and governs your height” (Smith). Humor always played an important role in the performance of his identity, and Dury particularly relied upon it when feeling “extremely nervous” before a show
(Smith). Influenced early on by English music hall, “Dury frequently included bits of comic business in his act” such as using “the microphone as a prop, caressing and kissing it” (Double,
36). Smith describes how Dury even used his own physical disabilities to his advantage by incorporating them into his stage persona, “[scuttling] across the cramped stage […] his awkward, lurching steps [defying] gravity, [renting] the rancid air with unholy OY-OY!s instead of the half expected Ahoy me hearties!” (Smith). This is another example of how Dury perpetuated a sincere, warts-and-all Punk identity using natural and theatrical resources in tandem and in response to whatever the social context personally evoked. By making use of his physical characteristics with the aid of his comedy background in order to navigate difficult and nerve-racking social contexts, and choosing not to inhibit his moment-to-moment responses but instead allowing them to further shape his identity, Dury developed and sustained a Punk identity which endeared him to the Punk community and enabled him to endure both admiration and scorn.
III. Iggy Pop 16
Like Rotten and Dury, Iggy Pop was an expert at arousing audience reaction through the performance of his identity. Iggy’s transformation from a musician to a Punk performer actually began once he realized that it was possible to engage an audience on a personal, even intimate level. Iggy, who was the front man for the band The Stooges, named after “the vaudeville and film comedy troupe The Three Stooges, whose violent comedy he loved” (Double, 38) developed an immediately identifiable stage persona due largely to his spontaneous interactions with his audiences. The Iggy persona became fused with his former identity, Jim Osterberg, in the late 1960s after being influenced by the music scene which was passing through Detroit.
Once Iggy saw the Doors perform at the University of Michigan, he “was very excited. [He] loved the antagonism; [he] loved that [Jim Morrison] was pissing [the audience] off. That’s when
[he] thought If this guy can do it, I can do it. And I gotta do it now” (McNeil/McCain, 40). The night before Iggy’s first performance with the Stooges, his bandmates asked him what he would wear, to which he responded, “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something” (40). When they picked him up the following day “he [was] wearing […] an old nightshirt from the 1800s that went all the way down to his ankles. He had painted his face white like a mime, and he had made an Afro wig out of twisted aluminum foil” (40). He had also shaved off his eyebrows so his bandmates began to call him ‘Pop’ after a neighborhood friend of theirs who “had a nervous condition and had lost all his hair, including his eyebrows” (40). As Iggy’s onstage transformation continued, one of the most curious phenomenon about his performances was that
“there were a lot of people that didn’t like it, and those were the people who started showing up at every gig. They’d yell to get a response, and Iggy would tell them to fuck off” (41). In this way, the audience has always been very vital to the development and performance of the Iggy
Pop persona. As far as Iggy is concerned, he doesn’t really care what the audience does, he “just 17
[wants] to meet them and do things […] see what develops” (Double, 46). This quote points to the performativity of Iggy’s performed identity, which was developed in tandem with direct influence of the social context created by his audience members.
Iggy’s interactions with the audience would often be abusive, as influenced by that first live performance of the Doors where Jim Morrison antagonized his audience. One example of
Iggy’s interactions with his audience was during a 1981 performance at the Pontiac Silverdome in Detroit when “Pop wore a miniskirt and provoked the audience to the point where they threw things at the stage, showering him with hairbrushes, combs, lighters, shoes and other objects. As an encore, he walked out with a box full of the stuff and said ‘I want to thank you all for being so generous tonight’ before listing every item in the box” (46). It’s possible to draw a comparison here between this example of Iggy’s performed identity and Dury’s angry onstage outburst which caused his audience to deny him an encore. Both of these performers, and Rotten as well, who like Iggy, also often left the stage to join the audience and “would single people out for verbal or physical abuse” (46), have to this day maintained a devoted following despite their antagonization. The appeal of their performed identities can be explained by the scandal and sensationalism that Marco Pirroni described in his response to watching Sid Vicious perform; it is the unpredictable and unabashed bold nature of Punk that has kept audiences engaged. The phenomenon of Punk culture and performance lies in the ability for Punk performers to generate intrigue through their audaciousness and spontaneity, which is rendered by the performativity of the performance.
As Iggy’s onstage identity developed, his offstage identity shifted as well, and the two identities continued to merge until the offstage became more and more difficult to distinguish from the onstage, creating cohesion of performance. Former bandmate Scott Asheton recalls a 18
time when Iggy was flanked by a group of girls who were all head-over-heels, and “all of a sudden, [Iggy] blew his nose into his hand, and then just guided it right down into his mouth.
And…[the girls] were still gazing at him like they didn’t even notice” (51). This behavior is in sharp contrast to the pre-Iggy Jim who was described by Ron Asheton as “a straight kid […] He hung out with the popular kids that wore chinos, cashmere sweaters and penny loafers” (34).
This small performance in front of a group of girls shows how the fascination of the small, private audience was maintained through the consistency of Iggy’s identity, which had first, no doubt, piqued the interest of the female fans while he was performing onstage. I would argue that the audience intrigue was first established by Iggy during the unprecedented interaction that he cultivated with his audience while onstage.
Another way Iggy Pop intrigued his audience and developed his unique Punk identity was by engaging in self-mutilation onstage, which was as spontaneous as his audience interactions. Iggy would often “[turn] on himself as well as the audience, regularly cutting himself, clawing at his chest with his fingernails or drumsticks or broken glass, and smearing himself and other band members with his blood” (Double, 46). In a 1977 interview on the Dinah
Shore Show, Iggy explained that one of the reasons he would wound himself onstage was because he
Was bored and angry and when something would
demand an action every day, it would keep
pestering [his] mind that [he] couldn’t do anything
about it and finally sometimes [he] would give up
and resort to simple violence […] usually on [himself]
because [he] hated to take it out on other people, [he] 19
thought it was wrong.
When asked about a specific time when he slashed his chest with a bottle onstage, Iggy replied
“it was because [he’d] done something really foolish the night before and [he] was ashamed.”
The live studio audience of the Dinah Shore Show received Iggy’s explanation with laughter, and Dinah Shore didn’t know how to respond at all. These are the kind of reactions that are common when it comes to Iggy Pop, and the fact that “he might do anything” was why, in John
Sinclair’s opinion, Iggy “exceeded conventional theatre…[he] had gone beyond performance”
(46). What Sinclair is referring to here is the performativity of Iggy’s performances and his ability to create as he was performing which enabled him to surpass convention.
In order to show that the identity of Punk performers functions as a response to social context, it is important to note those times when a performer’s identity fluctuates. In this case, we can look at whether there is a social context in which Jim Osterberg resurfaces, and if the consistency of Iggy’s performances on and offstage make it possible for someone to have a
“normal conversation” with him as Charles M. Young claimed you could have with most rock stars, once they dropped the act. Filmmaker Bob Gruen recalls a moment backstage before a show when he witnessed Iggy’s transformation from Jim to Iggy.
You’re talking to Jim one minute and the next thing he
goes to get ready for the show and […] just turns into
this other identity. Iggy comes charging out from nowhere
and hits the stage running […] Then, when he came
off the stage after the show…that persona kind of leaves
him in waves […] within three or four minutes you find 20
yourself in the company of Jim again. (43)
By making a distinction between his onstage and offstage identities, Iggy is able to interact with people as both Iggy and Jim, although as evidenced by the changes in his behavior as the Iggy Pop persona took shape, it is clear that Iggy has influenced the Jim Osterberg that exists offstage, if in fact he still exists at all.
Conclusion
What we can see by looking at the development of Rotten, Dury and Iggy as performers is how they helped to launch and sustain the development of Punk both as a music and performance genre. The identities which were created by these figures during their performances were manifested onstage before the eyes of their audiences, and continue to endure within varying degrees offstage. In essence, Punk itself was manifested each time one of the performers set foot onstage, and remained long after they jumped, crawled or were dragged off. The implications this work has concerning the power of performance is that through the act of performing, something semi-tangible can be created and sustained, and not just temporarily embodied. Punk material culture, Punk music and especially Punk community are all bi-products of a particular style of performance which was not developed in the spirit of Punk, but rather,
Punk (as we know it) was the result of that particular spirit of performance.
21
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