Puck rock

Plus, our correspondent skates into the sunset

by Michael Caito

'Puck Rock'

Last month, as I sat among hard-core hockey enthusiasts at the Providence Bruins-Fredericton Canadiens game at the Civic Center, talk turned to the future of the National Hockey League in Canada. While the PBs wrapped up another lopsided home victory, the former drummer of a band called Boneyard, Jack Flagg, maintained that as a direct result of the League's pandering to television interests, in a few years there would be no NHL teams based in Canada. And that would be bad news whether you're a hoser or not.

This is a column about hockey and music, so if you hate the sport turn the page, and I promise you'll never be annoyed by Nightswimming again. Actually, the same goes if you love the game because, as they say, the siren's about to sound and instead of whinging out the door, immersed in nostalgia, we'll talk of championships and the determination very much apropos to the Calder Cup Finals weekend that is upon us here in the Renaissance City. OK, one line of whinging later on, but that's all, folks.

The CD is titled Johnny Hanson Presents Puck Rock Vol. 2 (Sudden Death Records 21-song compilation; www.suddendeath.com). Last Saturday, as the Bruins were ending the existence of the Fredericton Canadiens (relocating next season to Quebec City, I hear) and securing the conference championship with a 6-1 ass-kicking of Les Petits Habitents, we noticed a guy scribbling notes a few rows above us. Figuring it was a lowly scout trolling for free-agent signees for next season, I showed him this CD which was given to me by the singer of the Newport-based One Ton Shotgun, whose final recording "Koho" is on it. Not only did he laugh at the titles, but he hands me his card. He's the General Manager of the International Hockey League's Detroit Vipers, whom some call the Baby Wings, and they are usually a very good club.

Cool. Downstairs, coach Pete Laviolette's team is just shelling the dazed Canadiens, the conference title seems in the bag, and all is well except for one thing. There aren't enough people there to enjoy it. Yes, it's the middle of Memorial Day weekend and hot as blazes outside. Anything involving the indoors is kinda iffy when it's that hot.

But that doesn't' faze the PBs. As they've done all year, they outhustled and outclassed the competition, proving nearly invincible in Providence for the past several months. Doormats last season, they've broken records . . . and a few heads . . . this year in an astonishing turnaround.

So you wonder about this weird sport, where farm kids from upper Saskatchewan rub noses with Harvard grads. Where the game cannot ever be truly translated to the boob tube unless you've seen it live or (as in my lucky youth) played it. You also wonder how, when there are massive lines for a new downtown skating rink, there are still only maybe 4-5000 people interested enough to drop twelve bucks for a conference title. (Saturday's crowd was announced at over 7K but we know how accurate those numbers are).

But up north it is religion, never doubt that, just as much as footie is in Europe and the laughably degenerating NBA is in the States. And when, earlier this week, the disc is dropped into the CD player, Puck Rock Vol. 2 is a primal Canadian scream for 21 songs. Yes, many of the bands sound like the Ramones, but with topics like "Hockey Hair" and "You High-Sticked My Heart" there won't be better laughs until Vanilla Ice's next comeback (or, for my money, Pearl Jam's next cover song). P.U.C.K.'s "Fuck Gary Bettman" delivers a mighty spear to the kidney of the current NHL commish, calling him on rule changes and allowing teams to leave Winnipeg and Quebec for "Yankee Colorado Geeks" and "The Jets of Mexico." They aren't done, because they've been irritated "Ever since number 99 broke south, chasing the taste of the Yankee dollar in Yankee rinks where the dinks don't holler. Picket ticket wickets all gone insane (and) a true blue fan can't afford the game. Coast to coast the rinks sound silent full of rich dinks winin' dinin' clients with no understanding of the pride and the glory. They never had practice at six in the morning . . . What's a flat broke fan to do, Don Cherry must be turning blue."

Other key tracks include Pullfinger's "One Timer," the Wry Eels' tribute to Guy Lafleur entitled "The Flower," and the hockey-mad Hanson Brothers, named after the famous half-snapped siblings from the film Slapshot, whose "The Enemy" and "Ring Dem Bells" bookend the disc. Pansy Division's riotous "Hockey Hair" goofs on the classic `do still occasionally sported by the thankfully-endangered Joey Bagadonuts waxing his Camaro in Goddard Park with Foreigner cranking out of his speakers. You know this particular 'do . . . the Pittsburgh Penguins' Jaromir Jagr still sports it.

And while I'm partial to the home team's track (whose full title is "Git Yer Koho Out My Blowhole"), produced by that now-defunct band's Chill Mott and by T Buck in the early incarnation of Sound Station Seven, there are enough larfs to go around for most anyone around here who thinks of face-offs, not Sermons, when referring to "The Mount."

So this Saturday and Sunday evening (vs. Rochester or Philly), the Bruins chase the first Calder Cup title for Providence since the Reds did it a long, long time ago. If the series ends in four or five games there will be no more chances to cheer this singular group of talented players, a group which for several long months has shown a spectacular pride of place, and the requisite mental toughness to refuse to let last year's nightmare recur. I'm picturing the victory celebration in Kennedy Plaza with the strains of this disc's "Billy Zamboni" blaring. They've played hard enough all winter to deserve, for a coupla nights at least, a packed house, yelling from the first face-off until the final horn sounds. Last to best. Go Bruins.

BLACK & GOLD. This week Los Lobos play Lupo's, Gruvis Malt do too but leave when they're done, Geri Verdi & the Villains play the Green Room and Purple Ivy Shadows play the Custom House at WaterFire Friday. Dave Howard and the High Rollers hit the Call on the 9th (hint from the Rollers: check out Troy Gonyea & the Premiers, the real deal, as soon as possible), and you've gotta guess we won't miss Mike Ness next week (unless there's hockey since both start at seven).

On May 18 I took a plane to Iceland with Fugazi and thus it was time. They have a new movie out and Ian said they will record some more at Greg's home studio. Column title chosen for lyrics, except that no quiet nights are deserved where there's talent. To Thee Boss Upstairs, Nina, fam, all Olneyville hoopsters, FOG, Nation, Rash, Boneyard, Bucket, Subject to Change, Pendragon, JT, Gus, WRIU, Whompers, Richard, Ben, Boss Fuel, Flower Gang, Larry, Judy, Clay, Camera Ready, Muses, the Mutha, Cutler, Murph, Mama's and the many who did honor in the liners, thanks. Peace.