Honolulu Weekly

One of the first things a punk (or ex-punk or pro-punk) notices about this city is the gaping void of anything punk. (Um, no, Hot Topic doesn’t count. In fact, that counts against you.) Those of us with purple-haired pasts who lined up outside the Wave Waikiki’s door for its annual ‘Pretty in Punk’ event only to run and hide at the sight of lingerie models doing the Blitzkrieg Bop down the catwalk, have learned to accept the fact that these streets aren’t made for punk.

Note to post-punk era people: The Ramones are great. We liked them. We still do. Are they the poster band of punkdom? No. They can’t be because everyone else likes them too. Lingerie models–it’s not that we don’t like them, it’s just that when you espouse an ideology grounded in rejecting conformity, being in on Victoria’s secret isn’t the kind of exclusivity that the Mohawk heads are after. Not to mention the fact that it brings up that old question of respect and equality (both punk culture virtues) versus gender objectificationÖbut we won’t get into that.

What matters is that there’s a night out there for people jonesing for a run in with some Angry Samoans.

Dean Carrico (he’s not a DJ, he says, ‘just an asshole with a lot of records’) controls the vinyl Thursday nights at Pink Cadillac with the savvy record knowledge of a musician and one-time punk. Sure, Carrico is a regular contributor to the Weekly, but all affiliations aside, we’d be lying if we didn’t say that Pink’s is the best place to be on a Thursday night.

But don’t go expecting a wild and out club event. Carrico plays good music–like MDC, Minor Threat and Naked Raygun–at levels that buoy conversation rather than squelch it.

An unwonted find in this club-thumping culture where a conversation with a stranger consists of: ‘You look like you’re bringing sexy back. Wanna dance?’

Note to clubbers: If you can’t help but use a bad pick-up line, may we suggest: ‘If Stuart could talk, he’d tell you you’re hot.’ Use it. Here, it’ll get you more action

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And don’t go expecting to hear anything but punk rock. Carrico’s a purist. He plays punk. Period.

‘A tourist draped in fresh lei and dressed in fuck-me clothes came bounding up and asked me to play Def Leppard,’ says Carrico. ”Sorry,’ I said, ‘but it’s punk night.’

‘Oh, then can you play Blink 182?’

‘Sorry,’ I said again, ‘but it’s punk night.”

Got it? Punk night.

Word on the street is that Pink’s has been sold and the new owners are planning a renovation, which means that Carrico will be temporarily displaced, but he says he’s looking for another venue. We’ll keep you posted.

Punk Night Thursdays at Pink Cadillac

478 ‘Ena Rd., 946-6499

Getting in: No cover, just bring ID, 21+ Dress Code: Anything goes; if it’s DIY duds, all the better Soundtrack: Dead Kennedys, Bad Brains, Dickies, T.S.O.L., Toy Dolls Sightings: Gen Xers who–oh my god! Haven’t heard this song in ages. Signature Drink: You ask for it, they make it.