By Christopher Munroe
I miss all-ages punk shows.
Sixteen years old, in a WWI-era trench-coat, cargo-pants and a t-shirt with “Idiot” emblazoned across the front, out for an evening of local punk bands in an alcohol, and therefore ID, free atmosphere.
The shirt was bought at a Wonder Stuff show, and it was kind of a trademark of mine. I wore it to every gig.
If I ever see another, I’ll likely buy it.
I’m sure there are still all-ages punk shows out there.
I could probably find one, if I bothered to look.
I could probably go.
It wouldn’t be the same…