It's true that there are few bands more divisive than Suicide, the innovative New York City duo comprised of singer Alan Vega and Martin Rev. After all, they've never once - not a goddamn day in their lives - fit neatly into any one pigeonhole, nor have they apparently given a shit. Even in punk circles, their inclusion in a movement of their own making has been the subject of endless debate.
That, more than anything, makes them true pioneers of the punk movement, by this writer's understanding of the definition of punk, anyway. Their existence on the burgeoning underground NYC music scene in the early '70s served only to offend and challenge convention before there was a term for what they were doing.
Punk was never about leather jackets, spiked hair, or gobbing, it was about danger and deconstruction. What people failed to understand - most notably Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood - is that what magnetic appeal the Sex Pistols had would have come through if they'd been wearing bib overalls and flip-flops instead of leather jackets and bondage gear.
Of course, Suicide had coined the phrase "punk" in 1970, then went about their business whilst waiting for the world to catch up. By the time New York City had the inklings of an actual punk scene in 74-75, Suicide had done most of the heavy lifting by single-handedly cutting a huge swath through a seemingly (to others, anyway) impenetrable urban jungle.
As those bands became better musicians and, thus, more acceptable for mainstream consumption, Vega and Rev remained defiantly primitive and uncompromising. Though championed by the likes of the Cars' Ric Ocasek and Black Flag's Henry Rollins, Suicide would remain a well-kept secret and, dammit, they liked it that way.
In the above live clip, from 1986, it's easy to see why: there is nothing at all conventional about the duo, yet there is something magnetic about the way Vega's spontaneous vocal style plays against Rev's repetitive rhythms. Unlike most other clips of the band, this is the only one that makes Rev the focus, thereby giving us a rare glimpse at how Rev goes about serving up those brutal, unceasing rhythms.
What's most impressive is that, after sixteen years together (on and off), they've gathered no moss, adopted no polish, and, most importantly, embraced no compromise. What bonds them like glue is a unified dedication to a shared vision and, as seen by the occasional between-song hug, a genuine affection for one another.
Something the Ramones and Pistols never had.