Music without borders

“How far have you guys travelled?” The answers shouted back at the band on stage, that night at the New Cross Inn in London, came thick and fast: “Germany!” “Belgium!” “Czech Republic!”

Before the Covid-19 pandemic and resulting lockdown, going to a gig was a much-loved pastime for many of us. It was back in those somewhat rosier days that I discovered ska punk through my friend Suzi. “Meet me in New Cross,” she told me one evening. Getting the train to South East London, I didn’t know what to expect. Finding myself in the middle of a crowd, listening to a band I’d never heard of and sharing drinks with people from all over Europe, it hit me: this was something special.

I immediately noticed the ska punk community seemed to be defined by one thing: a complete lack of borders. This was a scene where the divide between bands and fans seemed so blurred, it was all but non-existent. Fans were band members and band members were fans, travel never seemed to be an issue as long as a favourite band was playing, inclusiveness was paramount (“We try to go out of our way to not just have straight white men on the stage,” Paul Smith, the events manager of New Cross Inn tells me) and even at a somewhat small show, it felt like every European country was represented. The ska punk scene was (and still is) underground and very much niche: maybe this is why the tight-knit community has fascinated me for so long.

Rock’s ‘most reviled genre’

Originating in Jamaica, ska was a precursor to reggae. In the late 70s it fused with punk, and bands such as The Specials found mainstream success. Sometimes described as “Punk with a horn section,” it enjoyed another revival in the late 90s and early 2000s, but the simple melodies and often-childish lyrics of some bands meant it was snubbed by many rock purists. In fact, music journalist John Longbottom once went so far as to call it “the most reviled genre in all of rock.” All this means that long before the Covid-19 pandemic hit the scene, the number of fans was already dwindling.

But exist they do, and they have created a community that may not be particularly big, but is definitely mighty. At the centre of it is a willingness to go to shows. “It is a tight community and you can often guarantee that you will meet someone anywhere in the world who will know someone you do,” Suzi tells me “You can’t go far without meeting someone who has a connection to you or who’s been to the same gig or festival somewhere in the world.”

“The world” is a big place, but the ska punk community has never been afraid to cross borders for a gig. “People in the punk scene have no issue with travelling far and wide to support a band playing for 30 minutes in a different country,” says Smith. “Driving 1000 miles across Europe to play a show to 3 people is just seen as standard practice.” At his venue’s weekenders and festivals, “there’s always a bunch of people from Belgium, France, Germany and the like that buy tickets.” 

What motivates all these fans to travel so much, and more importantly, where do they go? According to Smith, there is a special relationship between the UK and Belgium. However, when asked about his last multi-stop trip, Budapest, Amsterdam and Berlin were on the route. “If a band never, or rarely, plays the UK, I’d happily fly to see them, especially if it’s a reunion show, or last ever show.”

This sentiment is echoed by Suzi: “what motivates me is the line-up. It is great being in a random field in the middle of the Czech Republic and seeing friendly faces! I always try and spend time outside of the festival or gig exploring though.” 

Surviving the summer

Friendly faces and travel might be important, but ska punk is a community that revolves around live events, which is making 2020 particularly difficult. Festivals such as Punk Rock Holiday in Slovenia have been cancelled, bands cannot tour, and friends remain far away. Smith tells me that “many festivals, worldwide, have had bands playing acoustic sets over Instagram and Facebook live. Sbam Fest in Austria put together an acoustic show that lasted almost 24 hours to take time zones into account.” 

Suzi also mentions that “bands have been releasing songs and videos and asking their fans to contribute to them.” The sense of community has not disappeared and support from fans is still going strong. Smith has had lots of enquiries on how people can support the venue during closure “whether it’s donations or buying merch. Many people have waived their refund rights on cancelled events, which has been amazing and a great help.”

Craig Nicholas Darran, aka London-based musician C-Rage, even went as far as recreating New Cross Inn in Lego during lockdown. Also keeping fans’ spirits up are social media messages, rescheduled shows and the promise of next year. “2021 is already looking like a huge year,” says Smith. “Most big gigs are postponed by a year, plus on top of that fresh tours are being booked.”

Europe, to the ska punk fans I have met and know, is an extension of the UK community. “The freedom of movement there is a delight,” Smith tells me. “Over the years I've made many friends worldwide through going to gigs.” This is echoed by Suzi: “I have made lots of friends through my ska punk travels and they will also travel to the UK for gigs and festivals.”

Instead of looking at each country’s scene as separate, comradery within the ska punk community crosses borders and is stoked by a mutual love of the music. At no point is it about where you are from or which country you call home, as Smith reminds me: “overall, especially in the punk rock scenes, we are all as one.”