Punk’s not dead, it has just had a change of wardrobe—or at least that’s the mantra of the blitzkriegin’ bagpipers, The Real McKenzies. Paul McKenzie, front man of this Joey Ramone-meets-Robbie Burns band, said the idea for the band materialized in 1992. In different rooms, were listening to Andy Stewart and The Sex Pistols and the strands wove themselves together, creating a sound that’s unique, to say the least. For a bunch of guys who it to spending as little time in the studio as to avoid cutting into their strict drinking schedule (with which, apparently, even this midday interview interfered) they’ve been remarkably prolific, clocking in at eight albums and counting. McKenzie said the band is planning to release a live album, then an acoustic album followed by another studio album.
Sixteen years strong, the fun-loving Vancouverites are still going and, to boot, they continue to perform each show in full-celtic regalia, complete with high socks, sporrans, a bagpiper and, naturally, plenty of beer. They’ve taken some flak for being a gimmicky band, but McKenzie doesn’t get too wrapped up in it.
“People annually spend a shitload of money on entertainment, so why not go out of your way to be entertainment?” he said.
Apparently, this philosophy has worked—The Real McKenzies have been received internationally with wild success; they’re especially popular in , where they’ve toured extensively.
“The fan base there has more disposable income to throw around than fans here. Not to mention the fact that there are just more people in a smaller area,” McKenzie said.
This makes for the kind of shows the McKenzies like to play: crammed, sweaty and high-energy.
Although they haven’t toured Canada as much as they would like, McKenzie and his merry crew are rectifying that by touring athe country in their trusty Ford EF350. In three words, McKenzie described the band’s vehicle of choice emphatically as “high,” “mileage” and “bus,” which apparently doesn’t accommodate the height of some of the band very well, resulting in a less-than-ideal style of traveling.
Their tour, regrettably, will not take them to Newfoundland, where—because of their pseudo-Celtic sound—they’ve got a solid fan base.
“Next time, we’re fucking going,” McKenzie said.
The tour itself is about as antic-filled as you could expect from a bunch of kilted inebriates. McKenzie said band routinely prank each other by filling their dressing rooms with penis art work, à la Superbad.
“If I wanted to look at a cock, I would just look under my kilt,” he said.
This statement immediately prompts the question we’ve all been waiting for. McKenzie literally bares all: he said under their plaid, the band generally sports “socks, boots, and occasionally a nice shade of lipstick.” Charming.
The amount of lipstick is probably contingent on how often the kilts are washed, which, not surprisingly, McKenzie said isn’t often. He likened the smell of un-washed tartan to that of a barn.
The front man also waxes lyrical on the zen of kilt washing.
“It’s better to wear a cold, wet, clean kilt than a dry, dirty one.” The Real McKenzies play BarNone in Kingston this Wednesday and to you, the readers, Mckenzie has a few timeless words on the topic.
“If they don’t get their fucking asses to the show, I’ll be disappointed.” The bard has spoken.
Kingston Punk Productions presents The Real McKenzies at BarNone on September 16 with Wednesday Night Heroes. Tickets are available through Brian’s Record Option, The Jungle, Rockit Boutique, Renaissance Music, Sunrise Records and Destinations.
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