Downloaded by [New York University] at 09:06 12 December 2012
246
K.E. Wadkins
greaser and the Afro-wearing counterculture figure may seem disparate, they are actually quite similar. As young white men shirking a traditional white identity, MC5 went from ‘‘white ethnics’’ who lived a ‘‘physicalized’’ lifestyle to ‘‘white ethnics’’ who imitated their ‘‘physicalized’’ interpretation of Black masculinity. While clearly aware of their whiteness, perhaps MC5 related to over-sexualized and hypermasculine Black tropes because it seemed familiar to them as young greasers. In order to transition from greasers into cultural renegades, MC5 needed a political and artistic leader to guide them. As anti-authoritarian activity bustled in Detroit, the MC5 met just that leader: John Sinclair. Sinclair, a local countercultural icon, united rebellious artistic subcultures in Detroit in an effort known as TransLove Energies (TLE). TLE would heed Beat writer William S. Burroughs’s call for ‘‘a total assault on the culture.’’ A radical educational policy was directly enacted at the MC5’s shows, in which TLE distributed underground literature warning about their troubles with authority.35 Directly influenced by the Black Panther Party, Sinclair sparked a transformation in the MC5. Following the uprisings of 1967, MC5 and TLE moved from Detroit to Ann Arbor, a university town nestled in green hills west of the city. Unlike their Black neighbors, they had white mobility and were able to escape the violence and police repression. While recalling their reasons for leaving, Wayne Kramer cited police brutality, indicating a shared identity or at least solidarity (which may or may not have been reciprocated) with their Black neighbors.36 Considering the brutal violence being enacted by a starkly white military and police presence against Black Detroiters, Kramer’s words reflect a political standpoint, one in line with the MC5’s stance against social order. As MC5 and TLE combined forces, the band became more politicized, though their motives were questionable. Soon they would establish the ‘‘White Panther Party’’ (WPP) with vaguely juvenile intent: We knew the world generally sucked and we didn’t want to be a part of it. We wanted to do something else, which amounts to not wanting to get up in the morning and have a real job. . . . It was just on a gut level – that was the level of our politics – we wanted to make up different ways to be. So our political program became dope, rock & roll, and fucking in the streets. . . . Then we started the White Panther Party, which was originally the MC5’s fan club. Originally it was called ‘‘The MC5’s Social and Athletic Club.’’ Then we started hearing about the Black Panthers and how the revolution was bubbling under, so it was, ‘‘Oh, let’s change it to the White Panthers. Yeah, we’ll be the White Panthers.’’37
While this behavior suggests a rejection of capitalism, or even a working-class resistance of the growing white-collar world, it also reinforced, and took the form of, a romantic version of juvenile delinquency, unsurprising considering the greaser culture from which the MC5 emerged. While this also reverberates with many other subcultures, MC5’s attitude certainly set a precedent for punks to come, with their politically-laced carelessness and the fine line between politics and parody. The MC5’s ill-informed, casual tone in establishing the White Panther Party reflects their continued sympathy for Detroit’s Black revolutionary population, though it also denotes a lack of critical understanding of Black nationalism and Black Power movements. Cultural historian Jeff A. Hale asserts that one key