I was late to the punk party. Proper late. I think I evaded the genre as they were always “the bad guys” in the flicks I saw as a kid. I guess just like the Eastern Bloc, those mohawks and safety pins were an easy design choice to portray “baddies” on trashy Cannon and Golan Globus movies. The only “safe” punk I knew was The Ramones, and their videos for their tracks for Rock n Roll High School were a mainstay.

Keep ’em separated was an easy way to get into the genre. A flash video, a catchy chorus, and a social commentary in the lyrics. Thanks to the offspring, I found The Clash, Dead Boys, Dead Kennedys, and Sex Pistols, amongst others. Some punk bands I still listen to, others, well, there’s a reason PiL is a much rewarding enterprise for John Lyndon, right?

I remember one afternoon in ’95. We had just some food at a taco place near Polanco and now where at the top level of Plaza Satélite’s parking lot. I can’t remember what we were waiting for, but my dad and my mom were quiet, and one of my brothers was reading the newspaper. It felt forever and the music wasn’t good at all. So, with some extra straws we brought from the taco restaurant, I was trying to play the drum intro, mouthing the palm muted part when it felt “right”. It was true back then and it was true now: I lack rhythm. I think I’ve always wanted to play drums but I really can’t keep pace, so I’ll let people more talented do the drumming.

“You are under eighteen, you won’t be doing any time” my brother always tutted at that part from the lyrics. It wasn’t an endorsement, I told him. He cleared out that he tutted at it being a fact back then. Sadly, it still is.

It’s weird not knowing why we waited for so long at that parking lot on that afternoon, and I would love to give you some context or a resolution to the story, but it’s just the setting. I would end up buying two albums by The Offspring, but neither were Smash, where Keep ’em separated lives and breathes. I saw the band in 99 and ended up with them at Garibaldi, of all places. That’s a story for another day, I guess.

-Sam J. Valdés López