Broadly speaking, the left can be subdivided into two categories: the intelligentsia and the working class. File Hudson Falcons in the latter category, more specifically in the populist subsection. Their causes span the political divide, from supporting Lori Berenson (the American leftist jailed in Peru) to pushing to bring POWs home. But this is no mournful tribe singing songs about the plight of the blue-collar Northeast (despite the fact that they cover the Boss’s “Open All Night” and share his Joizy origins). Hudson Falcons instead delivers short, sharp rallying cries about the boss man’s yoke, tainted romance, and rock and fucking roll — the equivalent of English soccer terrace anthems for the union local. More garage rock than punk, the songs are the perfect backdrop for hoisting a pint, slamming into your brothers and forgetting your workingman’s blues. On its own merits, the music can rock you silly, message or not. And maybe that’s how Hudson Falcons wants it. After all, the band manages to pair songs like “Sleep, Drive, Rock n’ Roll, Repeat” with “Scab” (“You’re hurting yourself in the long run / When you undermine the union you undermine everyone”) without it seeming the least bit incongruous.
This article appears in Nov 29 – Dec 5, 2001.