Jesus loves punk music

I’m seeing my friend off after an especially good beach day (80+ degrees on Memorial Day weekend in New England, hello) that we’ve stretched into sunset and beyond when we hear the faint notes of “Pretty in Pink” coming from across the cemetery. But it’s not on the radio.

I remember now that my neighbor I bought a jacket from after sifting through her eclectic collection of CDs mentioned that the Psychedelic Furs would be playing in Salem this weekend in a venue neither of us had heard of: The Salem Performing Arts at the Catholic Center. Huh? Beyond the obvious delight of picturing the punk band from the 80s playing at a Catholic Center, I couldn’t get past the fact that this community hall was where I cast my votes in elections.

Right now, I hear the throb of the center as the band belts out “Love my Way,” one of those songs you don’t know you know, and I’m waiting for the rainbow Mohawks to stream by reminiscing about when skinny jeans were popular the first time and punk was king.

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