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Even Punks Sing the Blues

The Bad Little Kid moved into the neighborhood

He moves to rock'n'ride and to settle down look so good

He don't want to go to school to learn to read and write

Just sits around that house and plays that rock'n'roll music all night

Well, he puts the tacks on teacher's chair

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Puts his gum in little girls' hair...

Now Junior...behave yourself

"When I first started to play the guitar," Lulla explains, "I used to veg out in the corner and listen to the radio and hear something like Aerosmith. Aerosmith always turned me on because it was like--lust for life. It was movin' and it was live for the time and get everything you can get out of it."

But when you ask Joe what he'd really like to play, this hard-core punk says he loves the blues--"everything comes from the blues." Demonstrating on his guitar the three-chord progression central to all blues riffs, Joe looks up and complains that critics who acccept the blues make fun of punk for its "simplistic" chord progression.

"It's exactly the same thing," he says. "With the blues, the progression is a vehicle around which you tell a story, to convey a feeling using the guitar riffs and words--tell exactly what the meaning of the so. And it's exactly the same with punk. It's simplistic, but it has to be understood that it's only a vehicle around which the real meaning of the song out."

Many people will toss punk to the after hearing it raucously go dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-DAAH!" But they've never seen it.

"Punk, and I know sounds in a visual experience, much the same with a ballet is. You can't separate seeing it happen being people are getting into it," says.

Incagnoli takes up his the headpiece devil's trident, and progression. He then plays the same progression "punk-like," he bangs the strings with his pick, not so much as clawing at them with frenzy. Then he looks up from his guitar and of punk: "The way explicative of the energy behind the music.

"What is a punk? An inner-city person whose attitudes have been drastically altered by--(the sociology major's voice trails up in self-examining retrospect) a confining social situation."

Joe Incagnoli is more than a smart punk. He even manages to put his Adams House life into perspective. He has rambled down many city streets, collecting the kind of knowledge only living there can provide. He knows where the punks are coming from.

"There's a lot of frustration living in that environment. It's like you sit around, and you have all this nervous energy. And everybody's hanging around and what the fuck do you do? And what can you do? In all seriousness, come down my neighborhood, what can you do? There's a gym. How many times a week can you play basketball before it becomes ridiculously boring? The high school's a dive, it's a serious joke, you don't learn shit. Your parents are basically working class, are basically going to work, coming home, going to sleep. They're happy that they're clothing you and feeding you. They don't take you down to the amusement park or the zoo on Sundays or take you skiing. And there's no money. Not that I'm seeking sympathy. I'm glad to be from where I am.

"So you have nothing to do, it's a lot of wasted energy, it's everybody's-running-my-life-and-what-the-fuck-can-I-do? That's why city kids can get into rock more...or certain types of rock."

And in East Boston, with all its packed-in toughness, violence is a way of life. Joe explains that the East Boston social hierarchy is determined by "earning a certain level of respect" from you peers.

"There are a lot of people waiting to take advantage of you. So when someone shoots you down, you can either take it like a wimp or learn to fight back and take care of yourself and earn your respect that way," he says.

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