D.C.'s 'Old School Punks' Release New CD

WASHINGTON - Their music helped fuel what became D.C.'s world-famous punk rock scene in the 1980s. What happens to local guys who play loud and fast -- and then grow up? If they're Black Market Baby, they release a new compilation CD, called "Coulda...Shoulda...Woulda."

"This whole mp3 and iPod thing -- I'm still coming to terms with," says singer Boyd Farrell, who at 47, remembers the fledgling days of punk and new wave in the Washington area, when new music releases came out on vinyl.

From their first show in 1980, Black Market Baby became known for their hard-rocking, hard-drinking lifestyles. Now, a quarter-century later, Farrell is no longer an angry young man.

"These days I'm just slightly annoyed," he says.

Black Market Baby never signed a major record deal, and never achieved the success that other local bands that followed did. Yet current bands continually cite the band as an influence.

Farrell says the band never toured extensively.

"In the early 80s I met a girl, and we had a baby, so I had to get real serious real quick. I always had to leave the party early because I had to go home and go to work. I worked for an aerospace contractor for 24 years, so that's why we couldn't tour. But, my family obligations came first."

The bands lyrics were often loutish, at times misogynistic -- fairly typical for punk rock.

During recent band reunions Farrell says, "To sing some of the old songs it was hard to keep a straight face. When I think of where I was, and what I was feeling when I was younger, I understand what I was writing about. But it almost seems like two different people now."

Farrell and his family now live in Annapolis. With the release of the BMB CD, and an upcoming release for his current band, Rustbuckit, Farrell is looking forward to seeing whether younger audiences will embrace what he calls his "old school punk." While reunion shows are always a possibility, he sees little chance that Black Market Baby will become a full-time priority.

"My wife won't let me quit my job now," he jokes.

His children seem to have a difficult time picturing their father as a punk rock pioneer.

"The record company sent promo posters to the house," he recalls. "I put one on the fridge, and I've gotten so much grief -- 'Dad, what are you doing that for? You don't even look like that anymore.'"

(Copyright 2006 by WTOP. All Rights Reserved.)