As great as Abbey Road and other records by the Beatles might be, the Fantastic Four, for many people, will always be these punk rockers from Washington, D.C. You might have heard of them, they’re called Fugazi.
By mid-April 1990, after relentlessly touring to promote their 1988’s self-titled EP — which arguably holds their most iconic song, “Waiting Room” — and a second EP, 1989’s Margin Walker, Fugazi finally released their first official album. Repeater was produced by Ted Nicely — who apparently was studying to be a chef at the time — and is regarded to this day as one of the most important pieces of music not only in the D.C. punk rock canon, but in the entire ecosystem of modern independent music — something in which Ian MacKaye (Fugazi’s guitarist and vocalist and co-owner of Dischord Records) has been playing an absolutely central role ever since he decided to create his own record label to release his very first recording, 1980’s Minor Disturbance by The Teen Idols. Blending the aggressiveness and energy of The Stooges’ punk rock with the precision and groovy basslines of post punk and reggae, not only is Repeater not a regular album, but Fugazi too were not a regular band.
While it might be an exaggeration to state that it is hard to imagine an imbecile being a Fugazi fan — which I’m sure it is — it isn’t a completely misguided idea. With a strict code of ethics, the band endured as a legend; to consider its history and legacy is to be before one of those things that just makes one want to be a better person — not in a new-agey way, but by following an uncompromised path, striving for virtue, absolute commitment and honesty. For trying to do the right thing and being stubborn about it is what set them apart from everyone else back in the day. Call it the MacKaye factor, something well documented in dozens of anecdotes, like being pissed whenever promoters made tickets pricier than they absolutely had to be, or having kids pilling outside a warehouse, trying to peep through the windows as the band played before an empty improvised venue the cops had just shut down.
At the time of Repeater’s release Fugazi already had a solid following, which was due to the involvement of its members in acts such as Rites of Spring and Minor Threat and the aforementioned EPs — later compiled as 13 Songs, an absolute cult piece today, symbolizing the monumental shift that was about to take place in the realm of independent music. Repeater proved punk rock could be as musical as any genre, as songs were now reaching the three or even four minutes mark — epics by punk rock standards — so they could build tension, have proper verses, choruses and more adventurous instrumental breaks.
Drawing influence from hip hop and dub, the band had an acute sense of rhythm. But what would leave the astonished audiences dragging their jaws through the floor was how organic and energetic they sounded — especially live —; a full band working together for the sake of the song. Fugazi’s debut album sounds like the collective effort that it was, as all four band members were coming up with ideas — even drummer Brendan Canty is said to have written some basslines and choruses. And if Repeater sounds fresh 30 years after its release, that is not exclusively due to the band’s ability to put everything they had into the performance. The songs themselves are bold and daring, drifting away from most stereotypical punk rock motifs, as one can clearly confirm on tracks such as the song that shares its name with the album’s title. From — to a lack of a better description — weird guitar feedback noises that surely resemble what Tom Morello would be doing not long after that, to time signature changes, funky basslines, call and response techniques, and all these elements usually unseen in punk rock territory, “Repeater” is absolutely mandatory Fugazi repertoire. On the other hand, “Shut the Door” might be slightly atypical in some regards, even experimental, but perfectly exemplifies some of the band’s more idiosyncratic features (some of which would become more evident in later releases), such as the two guitars continuously alternating between ferocious distorted intensity and elegant, shining, circling phrases, almost like a piano, as the emotional and harsh chorus “She’s not breathing” comes in and gives way to a gentler but brief melodic verse, before an abrasive outro, and back to the chorus just in time to embark on a groovy jam session led by bass and drums, making such a heart-felted track that seems to deal with someone’s death by drug overdose pretty much danceable.
More than the mere culmination of the early efforts and experiments of its members, Fugazi was a group of matured musicians who’d grown out of the delusion of a scene they’d help create years before, and Repeater was just the beginning. “Never mind what’s been selling / It’s what you’re buying”, sings Picciotto on “Blueprint”. In line with a 100% DIY philosophy and a distinct anti-corporate, anti-consumerism stance, instead of pointing fingers in every direction, shouting “Fuck You” for this and that, Fugazi invited their listeners to take a look at themselves and take responsibility; if they couldn’t change the game, at least they could change the part they took in it. Instead of telling the audience what to do (something Minor Threat were often accused of), Fugazi led by example. With a track like “Merchandise”, where Mackaye screams “You are not what you own”, the band never sold official merchandise, not a single t-shirt or any other object besides records — which would have something like “This LP is $6 postpaid from Dischord records” written on the back cover. If the price of authenticity meant playing all ages shows, charging only 5 dollars for tickets, sleeping in a van and even skipping meals, they’d take it every day. It is even said that at some point someone handed the band a couple of suitcases full of cash were they to sign with a well-known major label with the name of an ocean. Fugazi told them to fuck off…
Even though Repeater may well be Fugazi’s most widely known album, among fans there seems to be no consensus regarding a favourite — surf the internet for “Fauxgazi: This is not a Fugazi Documentary” and you’ll see it for yourself. This is only testimonial to the band’s creative steadiness and enduring tenacity. But more than creativity, Fugazi’s legacy is one of integrity. Fugazi doesn’t belong in the art world, where people drink wine while staring at album covers, pretending to know anything about them and love the music. Fugazi is for the nobodies from nowhere, those who couldn’t care less about the spotlights, those who put honesty and integrity before everything else and live to suffer the consequences.
Note: Much of the information in this article was found in the book “Our Band Could Be Your Life”, by Michael Azerrad.