Hey, man, remember when rock 'n' roll really meant something? When the political message of the music reflected the American youth's disenchantment with our country's capitalist, war-mongering system? Hard to believe now, but thirty years ago, people genuinely thought a new American Revolution was right around the corner, with rock as the soundtrack. The Rolling Stones were accused of endorsing riots in "Street Fighting Man," John Lennon waffled over change-by-violence on "Revolution," and the Jefferson Airplane canvassed the Woodstock mudfolk for "Volunteers."
And yeah, if you weren't high on the demon weed, it probably all sounded about as stupid then as Panthers' political spiel does today. With a CD booklet chock full of manifestos lyrical and otherwise, the Panthers' brand of politico-punk none too subtly hearkens back to the days when hippie idealism transformed into the Manson family. You don't need a protractor to figure out the Panthers' primary influence: the MC5's early incarnation as John Sinclair's White Panther Party house band, before future Springsteen wrangler Jon Landau watered down their white 'fro sound.
To their credit, Panthers got one aspect of revolutionary-era Motor City Five down: the moronic ramblings of manager Sinclair-- whose dope, guns, and fucking plan of action did more damage to the legitimate anti-status quo youth movement than Nixon ever could have. Outlining their own militant policy in bite-size fortune-cookie segments, Panthers drop such wisdom as, "We stand for the destruction of art in all forms," and, "We are RECKLESS! Fuck the law!" Boy, that's controversy! And it's all echoes of Sinclair's 1968 White Panther Manifesto, with its own deep thoughts like, "We are bad," and, "Leaders suck," or the MC5's most enduring statement: "Kick out the jams, mothafuckas!!!"
Of course, all this radical mumbo-jumbo is nothing more than a smokescreen to hide the fact that Panthers are just a really, really crappy band. It'd be one thing if an act with songs like "A Panther Is a Motherfucker" and "Up Against the Wall" turned out to be chamber twee or bluegrass, but it's about the least surprising development in the world to find out that their repertoire merely runs the gamut from hardcore to punk. Above the usual mix of boom-thak drums and oh-so-angry power chords, vocalist Jayson Green recites tuneless lyrics organized in paragraph form. The one break from the Ian MacKaye rulebook is the electric piano intro to "Sex Ed," an absurd moment quickly smothered in distortion and Green's boast that Panthers "fuck whomever we damn well please." Hey, at least they've got their grammar down.
Basically, the music and the message meet and shake hands somewhere around the maturity level of an angstful 15-year-old. In light of this, the fact that the members of Panthers' ages (helpfully provided in the liner notes) fall between 23 and 31 make Are You Down? either one of the saddest things I've ever heard, or a "Mr. Show" sketch I haven't gotten to yet on the DVD. But, you know, maybe what's really sad is living in a world where a heartfelt goal like "make pigs pay" comes off as ludicrous instead of thought-provoking.
