No Wave, No How

New York City, 1978. Hundreds of kids with tight pants, long hair, and leather jackets line up outside of CBGBs to get a glimpse at punk rock sweethearts, the Ramones. But for a genre built on rebellion and anti-establishment sentiments, the line of patrons all seemed to resemble each other a little too closely. In the shop window across the street, one could even buy their very own leather jacket, already studded and patched to imperfection. The DIY, safety-pinned aesthetic could now be easily replicated and manufactured for your punk rock convenience. Let’s face it, my friends, punk had become a commercial tool, especially in New York City.

Enter No Wave.

Dissatisfied with the commercialism and monotony that had absorbed punk rock, and the imported New Wave genre that seemed saccharine in comparison, a group of artists decided they wanted nothing to do with said aberrations. The New York No Wave artists took the definition of music into their own hands, scrapping melody in favor of a tonal, textural approach to sound. Directly rejecting the confines of the “radio” song, No Wave artists approached music as a canvas for tones and sounds, rather than as a formula for commercial success. In fact, few No Wave artists actually recorded albums, but rather, played shows for each other, recorded compilations within the community, and hid in the confines of their basement level apartments. Their creations were not for the pleasure of an audience, but rather, for each others’ enjoyment. They treated their shows as a playdate for like-minded individuals, disillusioned with the state of art and music.

This is not to say that these shows consisted of a small group of people, sitting in the dark, listening to different frequencies at ear-shattering volumes. Rather, they were almost grandiose, theatrical, and above all, uncensored. Nevermind the bands that stood on stage, bopping their head to a 3-chord chorus; these were performance artists, taking every opportunity to mesh together theatre, rhythm, noise, and the favorite movement of the time, minimalism. No need for things like costumes, chords, or even a fully operating drum kit. Rather, the focus was on the bending and sculpting of sound, and the limitlessness of their creativity.


With so much creativity and disillusionment floating around these basement spaces, there was no way the movement could stick to just music. Before long, No Wave artists, such as Teenage Jesus, La Monte Young, and Swans, among others, banded together to make compilations, immersive theatrical pieces, and even films. No Wave music became No Wave art, and the only thread one had to follow was a yearning for creation paired with a rejection of the art world’s status quo. No Wave shows were anything but formulaic: shock value paired with societal critique, topped off with minimalism and a smack of musique concrete.

In some respects, Lydia Lunch was the darling of the scene. She entered the No Wave scene with her band, Teenage Jesus & the Jerks, determined to avoid the commercial art world. Often playing only a handful of 30-second songs, the band never recorded a complete album. That did not bar their influence, however, as the freeform onslaughts of sound took hold within the community, and are still sited as the influence for any number of noise, industrial, and experimental musicians. The band prided themselves on their departure from conventional music, as they often played instruments with any object within reach, such as cans, knives, or broken glass. They included no electronic instruments, as they felt that they lacked an organic component. Rather, the music was almost a rebellion against the audience: a short-lived ambush of multi-dimensional sounds, tones, and above all, attitude. After the band disbanded, Lydia went on to more collaborations, in music, poetry, and film, still focused on the same aesthetic principles of chaos, texture, and tone.

No Wave itself was short-lived, only thriving in New York basements for about five or so years, at least in it’s pure form. Shortly after their discoveries of sound’s limitlessness, the artists went down separate paths. Some, such as Lydia, stayed in the underground art world for the duration of their careers, clinging to the principle of personal art and rebellion against an audience’s power. Others, however (most notably the decade-spanning Sonic Youth), jumped ship for commercial success, trading their broken bottles for guitar picks and a chorus. This is not to say that the No Wave sentiment died completely. At the very least, the sell-outs helped to make it known, throwing chaotic breakdowns and musical explorations into studio albums. They embarked on a slow process of ripping up the public’s perception of music and rebuilding it in a more open, accepting form. But a money-spending, judgmental audience directly conflicted the No Wavers notions of art, which was not to be judged based on whether “people dug it”. The No Wavers had created their own paradox – keeping an art alive without anyone to observe it. And yet, they persevered, creating their own world of rejects, misfits, and rebels, creating art for each other and themselves alone…

But that’s never what makes the news, is it?