The king is gone but he’s not forgotten
This is the story of Johnny Rotten
It’s better to burn out than it is to rust
The king is gone but he’s not forgotten
In the late 1970s, Neil Young stood at a crossroads. Punk had exploded, sweeping away the long-haired idealism of the 60s, and Young, no stranger to confronting the ghosts of his own generation, penned My My, Hey Hey (Out Of The Blue) as both epitaph and invocation. His words wrestled with the weight of fading icons, with Elvis gone, Lennon still alive (at least for another year) but weary, and a new snarling figure in Johnny Rotten heralding that rock’s spirit was mutating, not dying. For Young, then, the song was a way of acknowledging the impermanence of flesh while insisting that art could carry the torch beyond the body’s decay. It was a lament, but also a creed: “rock and roll will never die.”
Young’s voice, frayed and furious, carries both benediction and curse, summoning a spirit that outlives the flesh that feeds it. My My Hey Hey (Out Of The Blue) is the electric spark against the eternal void. It reminds us that life is a burning page, the ink still wet, the guitar still bleeding. Rust never sleeps, but neither does the raw hunger of creation.
Fast forward to today’s dystopian landscape: a world tangled in climate collapse, digital addiction, endless conflict, and corporate surveillance. The lyrics resonate with a chilling prescience with the sluggish pace – as if chanted during a ritual, under the influence. Where once Young spoke of the personal choice between fading away quietly or burning out in incandescent rebellion, MIDNIGHTCHOIR’s take echoes as a collective warning. To “rust” is no longer just about aging gracefully; it is about complacency in the face of ecological ruin, authoritarian creep, and cultural homogenization. To “burn out” becomes less about personal myth, and more about refusing to be subdued by an increasingly mechanized, despairing society. New York City’s MIDNIGHTCHOIR unveil their brooding New Wave take on Neil Young’s My My, Hey Hey (Out Of The Blue), treating the song as both a meditation on mortality and a dispatch from the present. What once spoke to rock’s resilience in the 70s now surfaces as a dystopian anthem; an urgent reminder that even in an age of disinformation and decay, the spark of resistance, the raw cry of creation, can still pierce the rust.
The accompanying video places the duo of Patrick Bobilin and Sarah Simon at the head of a Lynchian dinner party, where unease seeps through every gesture and glance. By its climax, the guests close in, conspiratorial and menacing (New Yorkers will spot Diamond Field among them), sketching a sinister allegory of elite ritual, illicit rumours, and mankind’s darkest instincts.
After all, even Rotten himself has since sold out and abandoned youthful ideals for something more sinister.
Watch below and be indoctrinated:
This sardonic streak carries through the band’s new album, Debtors Disco. Their goth-inflected darkwave sharpens into political anthems such as No Country and Girls. Punk charges through Keep Your Revolution, synth-pop shimmers in Clever Guy / Air, and a smoldering cover of Kylie Minogue’s Can’t Get You Out of My Head tilts toward obsession. Elsewhere, Bobilin’s Puerto Rican heritage flows into Hourglass and the title track, closing the record with both fury and pride.
Guided by producer Ben Greenberg (Drab Majesty, Depeche Mode) the duo found a kindred hand to heighten the brightness and deepen the gravity of their sound.
Debtors Disco arrives on all DSPs November 7th, with a release show at Alphaville in Brooklyn alongside None Shall Remain, 12090 A.D., and DJ Alex English.
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