Punk Rockers Raise Money for Refugees

The same day that President Donald Trump signed an executive order barring select Muslim refugees from immigrating to the United States, a few dozen New Haven punk rockers gathered in a garage in East Rock to blast a different tune — declaring their support for being good neighbors.

“Earlier this week as I was sobbing into my hands, trying not to be overcome by fear, a friend of mine told me that all you have to be is a good neighbor,” said Brian Frenette, singer and front man of the Western Massachusetts-based punk rock band Blessed State.

“And I thought: how beautiful, and how simple. Here we all are, trying to be good neighbors. Let’s keep this up, because this shit’s only going to get worse before it gets better.”

With that call to empathy, he raised his microphone to his lips, threw his head forward, and propelled his band into another sonic explosion of anthemic punk rock.

Such was the scene at the Bradley Street Bicycle Co-Op on Friday night, where four punk bands (three of which hailed from the Elm City) played a benefit concert in support of the local not-for-profit Integrated Refugee & Immigrant Services (IRIS).

Organized by Amity Bicycles employee Marty Waters and hosted by the Bradley Street bike co-op’s John Martin, the benefit concert raised $931 for New Haven’s refugee resettlement and advocacy organization.

Although the co-op functions primarily as a venue for tinkerers and bicycle enthusiasts to learn how to repair a flat or refurbish a donated bike, the space is a natural home for informal, exuberant punk shows, a cavernous space with an industrial aesthetic that can accommodate a loud crowd and louder music.

Each band set up at the far end of the garage, in front of carefully organized stacks of ladders and pipes and tires, and threw themselves into each wild rush of a song for an audience of 40 or 50 twentysomethings eager to dance and socialize for a good cause.

Martin, sensitive to hosting a concert in a residential neighborhood, limited the event from 7 to 10 p.m.

First on the bill was Stuffed Up, Waters’ four-piece band that features the versatile and virtuosic Alex Katz on drums. As with every great punk band, Stuffed Up wears its Wire-influence on its sleeves, delivering pithy, melodic punk songs that sink their hooks into you and then suddenly depart, each barely a minute-and-a-half long.

“This one’s about how New Haven’s cool,” Katz said before jumping into another whirlwind of propulsive snare fills and cymbal crashes. ​“But, for some reason, people keep moving to Philadelphia.”

Next up was Spit-Take, another local three-piece with Dan Katz staying on drums and Joe Katz taking over on guitar and vocals. ​“We normally play in front of the same ten people in New Haven, so this is pretty exciting for us,” Joe Katz said with a nervous smile. ​“But thanks so much to Marty and the bike-cop for inviting us to this concert, and thanks especially to the people who make IRIS happen.”

Worn Leather played third. Led by singer and guitarist Tim Rowe, the band filled the garage with its angular and plaintive sound, underscoring each song with complimentary melodies and solos that bounced between Rowe’s and bandmate Ed Peccerillo’s guitars.

Blessed State rounded out the night’s fill of music, galvanizing the audience with its head-banging, fist-pumping enthusiasm. Frenette growled and jumped across the stage, pushing himself from the kick drum to the lip of the audience with nearly every downward thrust of the bass and guitars. He seemed buoyed by the show before him, not just because of the usual adrenaline rush of performing before an audience, but also because this particular show was about more than just the music. It was about an artist’s call to creativity, resistance, and support at the onset of a national political crisis.

At the end of the night, Waters, proudly wearing a black-and-white “#Refugees Welcome” pin on his t‑shirt, offered some words of advice to the bands and audience before him. ​“If the authorities ever come for your neighbors, look out for your neighbors,” he said with a subdued but resilient lack of irony. ​“Keep fighting the good fight, New Haven.”