Subculture clash

Despite the collared shirt and jersey, there's still something punk about Hans Versluys.

We meet at Triangle TV's redbrick state-house-turned-TV-studio in Grey Lynn, where he works as a programmer, and sit watching the street lights give off an amber glow as darkness engulfs the quiet crescent.

He hands me a copy of his recently published book, the translation of a thesis he wrote on punk subculture in the late 70s and early 80s. Of the well-timed release and prophetic title, London's Burning: An Exploration in Punk Subculture, Hans notes, "You can always count on the London mob to do your PR for you.

"The time was quite similar to how the times are now: '81 was quite spectacular," he flashes a mischievous grin before continuing on a more sombre note. "Back then there was a little bit more poverty and deprivation than we're seeing this time. Punk had this thing of being seen as just violent and worthless. And it wasn't seen to have a lot of artistic merit."

At the time it was the energy of the movement that drew in the young Belgian student. "It was just such fun, despite the bad press it got. It was so opposite to the hippie era before it."

Durinig the late 70s he visited London to complete his thesis while studying with the University of Antwerp. "I did it with enthusiasm. It was nice to be able to convert my obsession into sociology. And the university were liberal enough to allow me to do it."

Back in Belgium, Hans published fanzines and  organised what became a riotous event.

"I organised a gig and the police turned up. People started attacking the police car. It was my claim to fame," he says. Another grin.

The book also explores the punk phenomenon's influence on fashion and imagery. "Vivienne Westwood's partner at the time was Malcolm McLaren [the late manager of the Sex Pistols]. Her clothes were never cheap, but the style you could glean from. The do-it-yourself thing was big. I had bondage trousers. A lot of it was handmade, there were so many  second-hand markets."

So he looked the part, aside from not having a mohawk. "I never had enough hair," he says laughing. "The mohawk wasn't actually around then. Punk hair was spiked up, but not like that."

The centre-slicked up-do usually spied on K Rd is indicative of punk's reverberation through the generations. But he tends to disagree with instances of youth harking back to the cultural trends of their parents' eras.

"Music and youth culture has to be generational. That's the function of each generation. It can't just be regurgitated, that's just boring.

"I can't get into dubstep or hip-hop. BFM plays a bit of good stuff. I like Joy Division, they're perennial."

As for the likes of U2, "Those guys are dinosaurs. People think they're punk, but I don't think so."

Having arrived in New Zealand in the early 90s, Hans lives with his partner on Waiheke.

It seems a calm existence compared to the riotous calamity of London circa 1980.

But when he mentions his disdain for the ferry service I see that, despite the decades, disseminating discontent hasn't eluded him. "I'm the administrator for a blog called Fullerswatch. It's a collective blog for passengers," he says.

And there's a mischievous twinkle in his eye this time.