Somebody asked Patti Smith if artists should continue moving to New York City. She said that the city was closed to the young and the struggling and they should go elsewhere. She made this comment a couple of years ago, already got grief for it, and totally wrote Horses—which I notably failed to do—so I’m not really going to pile on here, but I very much disagree. Patti, for all her obvious charms, is of a generation that tends mythologize its self and its past. That’s cool, I do the same. But saying New York is now closed to those who’d struggle is obviously daft. Since the Lenape sold Manhattan to the first hipsters, transplants have been an issue. The argument over who is a New Yorker and who belongs here is hella tiresome. I opt for the “You’re a New Yorker if you grew up here” side, but more to not get into it with native cats like Blockhead rather than actually giving a shit. But obviously, and I’m biased as I moved here, I think there’s still a value in moving here, and I think there can be an occasional value in those that make the move.While we’re maybe full up on artists and writers, we can always use another punk band. And if you’re from Cleveland, we can always make room for you. The members of Nuclear Santa Claust are originally from Cleveland, OH: home of Rocket from the Tombs, Harvey Pekar, and so much misanthropic nihilisms that the city council periodically runs out of space for it and has to put some of it on a bus to Newark. Nuclear Santa Claust (Zach, Brenden, and Jim, all presumably having last names) are a good example of transplantism done right. Unlike all the bands that come here just to subject us to their floppy hatted folk shenanigans or Midwestern college rock inanities, NSC take a New York institution—in this case, The Ramones—and infuse it with their own, thankfully also urban in trashy, sensibilities. What started off as a straight up Ramones/The Spits worship band turned into something far grimmer. They sound like if developmentally challenged otters were raised in a basement in Queens, with nothing but Chomsky and a well abused copy of City Baby Attacked by Rats to survive on.
I met up with the band at Motor City Bar on the Lower East Side to talk about the record. It was an appropriate meeting spot because the Lower East Side has become a place that none of us would dream of going to on the weekend, so a beloved Detroit-themed “Rock ‘n’ Roll” bar that has been priced out of the neighborhood that it helped gentrify was a good place to meet up with a bunch of Cleveland goons who live in Bedstuy. The band talked about going to shows in Cleveland since they were eleven and how growing up in a city with absolutely nothing worth doing to do shaped their sensibilities. We didn’t discuss much else of “importance.” We managed to fill two hours with mainly talking about how shitty the bar staffs in Philly can be. But Nuclear Santa Claust is a band that thrives on detritus, off-hand bullshit, and dated cultural references. They write songs about the conspiracy-laden America that exists mainly in punk songs and James Ellroy fever dreams.It was early so the crowd was bearable, but as the hour progressed, we could look out the window and see everyone that ever called any of us a “fag” ever proceeding on a costumeless Santa Con bar crawl that had no beginning and no end. We shuddered in our hoodies. Even though I suspect I have a few years on the individual members, they have that “older punk brother” way of interacting with each other that I found myself laughing even when no one said anything particularly funny. Or maybe I just find other dead end types amusing. I like old men in new skin and any bands that still wear sleeveless jean jackets and have lyrics like “Nixon has forsaken me, I’m all fucked up on LSD” are OK by me.“Order of the New Age” is the new Nuclear Santa Claust record, out on Don Giovani Records, the label Zach cofounded ten years ago with Joe Steinhardt. The label started in New Brunswick (and if you are one of those knee-jerk “New Jersey sucks” types, please feel free to partake in this buffet of dicks that I’ve laid out for you to eat. New Jersey gave us The Feelies and Rorschach) and now operates out of Ithaca and Brooklyn. Putting out some of the best bands in both NJ and New York (Screaming Females, Waxahatchee, Shellshag, and the unjustly forgotten Dustheads), it’s another example of people coming to New York and adding to the fabric to such a degree that motherfuckers take them for granted. Come to New York City, punks and nerds, there’s still a place for you if you aren’t too excruciating and you know how to tip.Zach is really serious about the tipping thing. Follow him on Twitter - @zacharylipezPreviously - In Defense of Morrissey
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