RIP 3516

A local punk hotbed goes up in smoke
By MICHAEL BRODEUR  |  September 10, 2008

The Designer Drugs

Once upon a time a couple of weeks ago, a gaggle of punk-rockers lived in a yellow house on JP’s chunk of Washington Street. Then something happened and that shit burned down, leaving six homeless, three bands space-less, and dozens of punks with no place to debauch themselves. Over the years, hordes of bands have played 3516 (Darkbuster, Stray Bullets, Suspect Device, Bad Ash, Mouth Sewn Shut, and many more), and this Monday at the Middle East upstairs, there’s a benefit for the displaced rockers. Although the memories of 3516 live on (hell, even I lived in the attic seven years ago), everyone can at least take solace in knowing that whatever was residing in the fridge has to be dead now.

The Murder, “Boston Burns”
These days, you get a lot of punk that comes off like either a 10th-generation photocopy or a mean dog wearing lots of make-up. None of that bullshit burdens the Murder — a relatively new punk force in town featuring members of Entrophy and Mob Rule. If you’re getting a little sick of that other punk ditty about Boston, this track could provide some sweet relief.

The Designer Drugs, “Coke In The Bathroom”
Akin to the proto-glam mayhem of late-’70s CBGBs-era punk, the Designer Drugs (featuring our own Barry Thompson, who inhaled a helping of un-fun toxic smoke in the ordeal) are a welcome addition to Boston’s oft-too-stonefaced scene. Here they make it clear that rouge ain’t the only powder they keep in the compact.

Faulty Conscience, “Pirate Song”/“Cambridge Decay”
Recorded just a few doors down from 3516 at the venerable Midway Café, this pair of songs — about how pirates (and thus looting and pillaging) rule and Cambridge more and more sucks — epitomize the Faulty Conscience tagline: “Straight-ahead Boston punk, mixed with a little bit of Boston skunk.”

Zombie Reagan, “Bus 66”
Every Democrat’s nightmare could be every Boston punk’s dream come true in the form of Zombie Reagan. Practitioners of sloppy but somehow efficient punk rock à la the Dwarves or Black Flag, these guys would be easy to relate to even if they weren’t singing about Ana’s Taqueria and Wings over Brookline.

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