JOHN’S GUIDE: EGG PUNK
DEAR GOD HELP US ALL
I would say that I know a little bit about music, but there’s a lot of gaps in my knowledge. This isn’t the definitive guide… It’s just John’s Guide.
Ever since I was young, I’ve suffered from an affliction known as Genre Curiosity. From the moment I started listening to college radio and visiting specialist record stores, I’ve been obsessed with the never-ending sprawl of niche music styles throughout all known undergrounds. Genre Curiosity is a disorder whose only real cure is the passage of time and a level of maturity that allows one to develop adult interests that have nothing to do with “new music discovery.” I have not reached that level, obviously, which is why I am able to talk to you today about a genre called egg punk.
Some might know egg punk first and foremost as a meme. In 2017, an image circulated around the internet pitting two forms of punk—“egg punk” and “chain punk”—against each other, using a modified image of Tobey Maguire in Spiderman to signal the aesthetic differences between the two styles: chain punk was leather and metal, and egg punk was clowns, squiggly peace signs, and Keith Haring cartoons. A year later, the legendary artist Tricky Youth helped to make a chart (see above) that at the time served as the definitive classification of artists across the chain and egg spectrum. At the far end of the egg punk side: the Northwest Indiana band The Coneheads, whose name is responsible for the whole phenomenon.
The Coneheads became known for a Devo-fried sound that is still emblematic of the genre as a whole. In the barest terms, egg punk is a marriage of basement punk, outsider pop, and new wave, with a wacky aesthetic to match. It has been kicking around for a decade; early on, some read it as a reaction to the kind of raw (“chain”) punk that coated the East Coast underground at the time. According to Spin, we are now in the second wave of the style. I’m going to go ahead and assume that many of the OG practitioners, whose music predates the genre coinage, hate the term. The past few years of egg punk have seen a few bright lights amidst a lot of diminishing returns, but I have hope the genre will evolve. I would like to see egg punk tendencies merge with other genres; breakcore, ska, and rainbow rock are three that come to mind off the top of my head. Ska especially seems like a good fit.
Below: Egg Punk 101, presented by John’s Music Blog.
The Coneheads “46-25666 (Nirvana ‘In Bloom’ Cover)”
There is maybe no egg punk without Mark Winter. He is a singular artist who, by sheer force of imagination, created a lo-fi version of new wave that actually sounded new. Sure, bands have always ripped off Devo. But there was something about Winter’s DIY alchemy—a person once told me, for example, that he would record a song, speed it up on his four track, and then record vocals—that reinvigorated a style first pioneered by bands like Dow Jones and the Industrials. This Nirvana cover epitomizes just how definitive Winter’s homebrew still sounds: the manic, skinny guitars; the monotone, alien vocals. It’s always an achievement to inject new life into punk music, but it was especially an achievement in the middle of the 2010s.
D.L.I.M.C. “(I’ve been livin’ in) Macaulay Culkin’s Brain”
D.L.I.M.C. was another one of Winter’s many projects. Much like The Coneheads, D.L.I.M.C. took a lyrical side eye to “urban hipster culture.” I once asked some kids in Bloomington if any of Winter’s projects ever hit their town, and they told me that he didn’t like to do shows in “big cities.” Northwest Indiana’s proximity to Chicago must’ve played a major role in that stance—check the D.L.I.M.C. song “Wicker Park” for proof. I have always read Winter’s militancy as a reaction to a previous era of Scion-sponsored garage rock festivals and punk documentaries funded by Converse. D.L.I.M.C. existed more on the power pop end of the egg punk spectrum, and, much like The Coneheads, also excelled in cover songs. I recommend their take on S.O.S. by Abba.
If The Coneheads were doing a version of Devo, then Winter’s band C.C.T.V. was a take on Suburban Lawns. “Paranoia” is fueled by a nervy synth line and Jennifer Giba’s vocals, both detached and freaked out. There was a stretch of a few years in the 2010s when Winter was fully on fire. His output ran across a large number of bands and solo projects, ranging from new wave to outright hardcore. Over the past five years, things have slowed down to a screeching halt. (One more Winter hit from the archives before we move on: “Telephone Bore” by Gordon Spicer Band.)
Urochromes “I Don’t Wanna Be Like Me”
I remember when I first saw the video for “I Don’t Wanna Be Like Me.” Milwaukee punk legend Eric Apena posted it on his Facebook wall. Regardless of its politics, egg punk has always been fueled by the internet. I’m going to keep it 100 with you people: when I first heard “I Don’t Wanna Be Like Me,” I thought it kind of sounded like early Japanther—the drum machines, the noise—and I fucked with it. The Western Mass band went on to make a grip of great records, and now lead singer Jackie Jackieboy plays drums in Show Me The Body, a trio that was around back then but currently plays a role as an arty outlier within the massive world of contemporary hardcore.
Uranium Club “That Clown’s Got A Gun”
Though it passed over my home state of Wisconsin almost completely, egg punk thrived in various pockets of the Midwest. It’s baked into the DNA. Uranium Club is so Twin Cities that they sometimes call themselves The Minneapolis Uranium Club. Their lore is the most conceptual of anyone here (some sort of imaginary corporation is involved), and their playing style is more post-punk precise than belligerent. Yet another good live band that I have never seen live.
Rumor has it that The Coneheads were once offered a deal with Third Man Records. They turned it down. Many years later, Nashville second wavers Snõõper said yes to Mr. White, and are primed to be a band that helps expose the genre to a larger audience. Look, people: I’ve been dealing with underground music for almost 25 years, so any conversations about a scene’s slow ascent from the underground to a slightly more visible place, and all of the politics that go along with it, I have had more times than I can count. As the years go by, I become less interested in these conversations, within which I’ve often felt stuck in some sort of ideological purgatory. Despite all odds, though, I’m still fascinated by pants and guitar tones, so let’s stay focused. Judging from YouTube videos I’ve seen of Snõõper playing live, which feature free-roving puppets and coordinated windbreakers, they are a band that puts on a show. And I can always appreciate that. This version of “Inventory” is cool because it almost sounds like something Troubleman Unlimited would’ve put out back in the day.
Lumpy and the Dumpers “Flush ‘Em”
St. Louis band Lumpy and the Dumpers sit on the punkier end of the egg chart. The band was crucial to the development of the genre, and not just for their own musical output: singer Martin Meyer ran Lumpy Records, a label that was maybe the definitive chronicler of 2010s Rust Belt underground punk activities. Rabid readers of John’s Music Blog will know that Meyer is now in a damaged indie pop band called Soup Activists. You know what? There’s still a little bit of egg left in that stew.
Judy And The Jerks “Nothing To Prove”
Judy And The Jerks are a still-active band whose first demo predates the term egg punk. They are staunch DIY lifers who helped to build an inspiring punk scene in the small college town of Hattiesburg, Mississippi. They are one of those bands that might not want to be associated with the new crop of egg punk, or even use the name at all. When I interviewed them for the blog over a year ago, I danced around the term without ever saying it. It might be a stretch to call them a proper egg punk band, whatever the hell that means. Judy And The Jerks are more on the “fun ‘80s hardcore punk” side of the game, though early work shows a definite Mark Winter influence in the vocal processing. “Nothing To Prove” comes across like Suburban Lawns trying to write a youth crew tune.
Tee Vee Repairman “I Can’t Figure You Out”
There is a whole world of European and Australian bands playing derivative takes on the Mark Winter playbook. I’ve always appreciated generic punk music in aggregate. The endless parade of similar songs and record covers combine to paint a meaningful cultural portrait. But the music can be forgettable. Tee Vee Repairman is probably the best out of the Australian crop, though I’m not sure if you could call their music egg punk. It reminds me more of some of those garage rock bands that used to take the car commercial money back in the confusing aughts. Things often go full circle.
Neo Neos “The Kinks Are Who’s Who”
Neo Neos is the misanthropic, nerd-informed egg punk project of Connie Voltaire, a Minneapolis musician who remains active. Voltaire was also somewhat recently in a great post-punk band called Pig in the City along with Candice Metrailer of Mystic Inane, an egg-adjacent band that I did not have the time to talk about today. Pig in the City seemingly played less than a dozen shows, many of which I watched on YouTube, but never put out a recording. And that is, my friends, what I like to call the perfect band.
Another insightful bunch of words that set me straight.
Having only heard the phrase second hand I assumed that egg punk was like, bald dudes in thick rimmed glasses playing Fugazi riffs, so this was a very helpful clarification.