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Punk Rock Aerobics


Skank it off. That's what the charming instructors of Punk Rock Aerobics told the class after they lunged, jumped and punched around the room to "God Save the Queen." I could see punk-stockinged Hilken and Maura skanking it off, but I couldn't seem to copy them. The sit-ups I'd done during the hour long session (given for 7 dollars every Sunday at 2PM at Luxx) had already wiped me out. If you do like skanking and don't like fatuous lyrcra-d jazzercize instructors, then punk rock aerobics is perfect for you.

What's that you say? You like the odd punk song, but you don't have a mohawk and you're certainly not a punk? Well do you like My Bloody Valentine? How about Dinosaur Jr. or that Autobahn song? Well they're all in the DJ mix played during the workout. Hilken and Maura walk everybody through the moves needed for each song.


But maybe you're thinking I'm a big stud hoss who likes to pump iron and isn't about to do aerobics. Well, if that's going well for you then stick to it, but even Arnold will tell you that the odd bit of aerobics is good for you and the PRA work-out even includes a bit of weight lifting. Since real punks would smash state if they saw a nautilus machine, the girls hand out bricks for lifting. At first I scoffed at the bricks thinking that a stud like me needed a cinder block. Five minutes later my arms had gone all trembly. An hour later, I couldn't properly rinse the shampoo from my hair.

The instructors were really terribly nice and helpful. Everyone in the class loved them. Apparently, I wasn't standing correctly when I was holding my brick out and they came by to correct my form.

I think I counted 8 women and two men including me taking the class. Everyone behaved unpunkish and was considerate. No one seemed to take themselves too seriously. One woman even showed up in jeans, and I was the only one who brought Gatorade. Fierce Melon is very punk. PRA does provide water and little cups and at the end they handed out candy.

Oh yes, one other thing which kind of stressed me out was when one of the instructors asked the class if they wanted to work on their inner thighs. I wanted to be a sport, so I sheepishly raised my hand. I don't think I've ever exercised my inner thigh before and I'm ashamed to say that my inner thighs might be a bit under developed.

--Oliver Turner

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Free Williamsburg© | 93 Berry Street | Brooklyn, NY 11211
[email protected] | June 2002 | Issue 27
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