The Punk Rock Museum, Las Vegas, NV

In 2016, Joe Corré, son of punk icons Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren, set a boat full of punk rock memorabilia on fire in the Thames River, saying, “Punk was never, never meant to be nostalgic.”¹ A response to a series of museum events celebrating forty years of punk rock music, the stunt baffled and angered many. Henry Rollins, former Black Flag frontman and a punk icon himself, called Corré (and Westwood, who participated in the shenanigan) “cruel and incredibly selfish” for destroying the items and “depriving people from all over the world the joy of getting to look at [them]” in a piece for LA Weekly. Rollins fell squarely on the side of historic preservation, saying, “I think that now and then, someone is part of something that becomes bigger than themselves and with that comes a responsibility to maintain the work, thus allowing others to draw inspiration.”² However, he also recognized the dichotomy between the historical significance of the movement and the ambivalence he often encountered in other punk musicians. After all, the punk rock ideology was and is antiestablishment and what could be more establishment than an official history of the genre, enshrined in a museum? With that conflict inherent, can any museum truly capture the meaning, history, and social impact of punk music?

The Punk Rock Museum in Las Vegas, Nevada, which opened in the spring of 2023, certainly tries. Founded by “Fat Mike” Burnett, lead singer of NOFX, the museum attempts to imbue the museum experience with punk rock flair. The exhibits are structured chronologically, then geographically, and guests get a solid overview of punk music’s trajectory from the New York Dolls and the Ramones in the 1970s to contemporary international bands like The Svetlanas.

As in most museums, artifacts are encased behind glass or ropes, creating distance between the materials and the visitors and ensuring the safety and preservation of the items. Curated playlists create nostalgia-filled soundscapes—era-appropriate to each chronological segment—and visitors can download them via QR codes posted on the walls and floors. Guests can also play actual guitars formerly owned by third-wave punk bands like NOFX, Pennywise, and Rise Against in the second floor Jam Room, get tattooed in the tattoo shop, or get married in the chapel. The gift shop sells books and t-shirts, as well as a spill-proof branded cup that guests can fill at the Triple Down bar inside the museum and carry with them through the exhibits.

The intention of the museum is one of celebration and appreciation. According to Burnett, “There’s no Billboard chart for punk…There’s no Grammy for punks. There’s no award show anywhere for punk. We needed a place where any punk rocker can go and celebrate our heritage.”³ Legs McNeil described the museum as a “temple,” and indeed, one alcove features two shrine-like exhibits devoted to Joe Strummer of The Clash and Motorhead’s Lemmy Kilmister, both of whom are deeply revered influences across rock genres.⁴

In the spirit of enshrinement, the exhibits are almost too full of artifacts, from leather jackets and drum kits to Strummer’s alleged weed stash and Darby Crash’s (of the Germs) little black telephone book. Posters, flyers, lyric sheets, and zines cover every available inch of the case walls, without labels identifying or explaining their context (although three-dimensional artifacts and professional photos tend to be identified). There is very little narrative content on offer, evoking the punk ethos of unmediated connection between fan and artist. The lack of narrative also focuses the visitor experience on punk as art form. The two-dimensional artifacts in particular seem to be presented as works of art as opposed to historical records with informational or evidential value. Photography, both professional and personal, dominates the exhibits with enormous, floor to ceiling reprints in many rooms. Without mediation, visitors are free to establish their own relationships with the artifacts and bring their own contexts to the materials on display.

The lack of narrative framing also, unfortunately, exacerbates an atmosphere of exclusion already ingrained in the museum’s location on the outskirts of Las Vegas’s Arts District neighborhood and the severe lack of parking on the property. Guided tours with punk rock musicians, a potential antidote to the absent narrative, cost $100. It is clear that the museum is for punks and fans with prior knowledge of the genre’s history and players. The lack of curatorial statements rooting punk rock in its historical context or connecting it to specific political and cultural movements is a disservice to any visitors who are newcomers to the genre.

The celebratory nature of the museum and the lack of narrative also mean that there is nothing to challenge visitors. Though guests will see photographs of Alice Bag (of Bags), H. R. (of Bad Brains), and other BIPOC and female punks, there is no grappling in this museum with punk music’s history of racism and misogyny. The attempts at inclusion are surface level, and primarily relegated to the bands with well-established legacies in the genre. From October 2023–March 2024, the museum hosted a special exhibit on Black punk, curated by James Spooner, director of the documentary Afro-punk. Its presence acknowledged the tremendous contributions of Black and African American musicians to the genre, but unfortunately it suffered from many of the same issues as the rest of the museum, in particular a lack of narrative highlighting those contributions or welcoming outsiders into new knowledge.

The Punk Rock Museum ultimately fails to capture the legacy or impact of the genre on music history, while also failing at one of the most important functions of museums: serving everyone. Punks and fans of punk music are likely to feel very welcome in the space, but the museum itself is uninviting to casual visitors. There is a lot to look at in the museum, but very little to learn. In the end, what value is there in a museum with nothing to teach?