Olive the Jerk 2

Spring 1992. The father of a school friend took us to our first punk festival in a village lost in the Mauges, near Cholet, France. My 15 years’ old eyes and ears were just blown up as most of my then favourite bands played that night :  Specimen ,  les Sheriff  and  les Satelittes . The merry mess, the urban tribes’ looks and attitudes, the crazy energy of the whole stuff… yeah, the punk virus achieved its infection on me that day.  There was also that headliner I didn’t know:  the Selecter . Beside the  Madness  radio hits, I knew nothing about ska music. I was mesmerized by the first two songs, but my father’s friend put an end to that : " Time to leave, kids! Much to many skinheads all around here, it’s going to be hot, hot, hot ! ". Skinheads still had a bad reputation in the early 90’s and I then didn’t catch how such a lovely, festive music, moreover with black musicians, could be loved by such racist assholes. Of course, I...