Punk Against Capitalism… Punk for Life!

Punk Against Capitalism is an annual self-organized festival that takes place in Athens/Nikaia, Greece. The festival is run by the Punk Against Capitalism Collective and the 440 Sound Collective, alongside a broader network of politically aware punks who strive to create a safe space for everyone and prove that another way of organizing is possible—where DIY stands for autonomy and freedom of expression, and everything relies on mutual aid and voluntary donations from participants.

In a capitalist society steeped in inequality and commercialism, Punk Against Capitalism believes that such initiatives pave the way for a different, free society where we can all thrive. Punk Against Capitalism represents our collective response to the daily brutality presented to us as normality—an act of solidarity and collectivization.

The following report was originally published in Greek in Lung Fanzine #22; words by Yannis Kolovos and photos by George Argyropoulos, Aliki_sf, and the author. Thanks to DIY Greek Punk / Crust / HC and more for the English translation.

Punk Against Capitalism returns on 5–6 September 2025!

When The Exploited sang “Punk’s not dead,” I got annoyed and dismissed them as clowns, chanting, in a kind of funeral hymn: “Yes, that’s right, punk is dead. It’s just another cheap product for the consumer’s head. Bubblegum rock on plastic transistors, schoolboy sedition backed by big-time promoters!” I was thirteen years old, but fortunately, I had already realized that punk—the scene I adored—wasn’t about the spectacular sky-high hairdos but the open minds oriented toward rebellion.

Since then, my musical tastes have taken incredible journeys and loops. “Rebellion” has taken on a myriad of conflicting interpretations and meanings in my mind, which itself has been through various twists, trajectories, and speeds. As for my hair? It has turned white and thinned.

Perhaps that’s why I’m no longer surprised when young kids address me formally at concerts after crashing into me, escaping the centrifugal force reigning inside the mosh pit.
“Excuse me, did I hit you?” a young girl asks—probably a junior high schooler—who bumps into me while stepping, ruining my view of Χωρίς Θάνατο (Choris Thanato), the first band on the lineup. We are at Katrakeio Theater in Nikaia, during the Punk Against Capitalism festival, watching the second day of the festival, Saturday, September 7th. The sun is setting, and the cool breeze gradually spreads, lifting the spirits of the young punks in front of the stage making them ready for some mosh-pit action—at the expense of their long mohawks, styled upright with loads of gel.

With two out of five spikes flattened, a young girl experiences the song of the next band, the Welsh anarcho-punks Icons of Filth, as an anti-heroic and mournful anthem. And the concert has just begun.

The old-timer may not be particularly hung up about the state of his hair. He might have been listening to Icons of Filth since he was thirteen and know how to appreciate how well they play. He might even know how to conserve his energy to last through the show, to the bitter end. But the young ones are another story. They can jump from start to finish, tumble and get back up like nothing happened, and generally, well… they’re young. And that’s what counts in this kind of music—not exactly new anymore but always managing to remain youthful and… immature, if you’d like to call it that. The lingering question remains though: what on earth do these Gen Z teens find in mingling with subcultures that peaked before they were even born? The first thought that comes to mind, as Stage Bottles start playing, is the “ideological statement.” The German Oi! band’s explicitly antifascist stance can rally an entire generation of antifa youth—and beyond. As the audience swells, more older attendees join, perhaps some of them were even present during the band’s previous gig at Vive le Punk Festival back in 2020.

The crowd tightens further when Αλλος Κοσμος (Allos Kosmos) take the stage—a band that has, by sheer willpower, stormed the heavens and succeeded. They’ve created a solid core of die-hard fans, surrounded by a wider circle of followers who never miss a performance. Their songs are both rousing and dark, adhering to the “lone against all” motif. “And how hard it is to hold a conversation, when words falter at touch. And yet how easily madness fits within the calm that silence hides.” The audience’s appreciation isn’t unwarranted. The band lives and breathes the messages they convey—and we, in return, respect that deeply.

The British band Extinction of Mankind isn’t exactly my cup of tea, but hey, each to their own. Having managed, with some effort, to secure the perfect spot slightly to the left, front-row center under the stage, I found it hard to focus. A rhythmic vibration—thud thud thud—kept nudging me gently forward and back. Curious, I turned to see what was going on and spotted a guy banging his head vigorously against a metal beam of the stage: thud thud thud! Evidently, this grittier version of Amebix—the band that Extinction of Mankind openly cite as an influence—resonates with more than a few fans. Eventually, I retreated to the bleachers for a break, where a mix of “old guard” from Athens’ punk scene and a few Exarchia Square veterans had gathered. “Next year, the Ministry of Culture will organize this,” someone quipped.

This year, though—as in previous years—the Punk Against Capitalism festival was made possible by a group of people who poured their money, time, and sheer effort into the event. They honored the DIY ethics to the letter, offering us a festival with incredible sound, in an excellent venue, featuring some of the most noteworthy names from both the global and local scenes, all without tickets—and without even income from the bar (which was run by the theater, not the organizing team). They risked losing everything and even facing massive debts. Fortunately, from what I heard, there were far more supporters than naysayers, and people pitched into the donation box with whatever they could, helping cover the costs. Next year, we should all aim to contribute even more to the efforts of the Punk Against Capitalism and 440 Sound Collective.

When Ομίχλη (Omihli) took the stage, chaos erupted from the very first note. They’ve become the epitome of street punk in Greece. The mohawks, already battered from the pit’s skirmishes, now stood in irregular, war-torn shapes. Some were singing along, others bouncing up and down shoving each other with wide smiles on their faces. The crowd showed similar enthusiasm for Xαοτικό Τέλος (Chaotic End), the legendary Athens crust band. After various trials and transformations, they’ve found their stride again. Alex, the guitarist and vocalist, refuses to quit, continuing to pen his personal chapter in the history of Athens’ punk scene.

From Kreuzberg to Athens, the German skate punks ZSK kicked things off and wrapped up their set with unrelenting energy. Stage dives, speaker jumps, crowd surfing, and even an Iggy Pop cover (yes, you read that right)—they were the embodiment of youthful exuberance, despite being far from a new band. Having been around since the ’90s, they still perform with the vitality of teenagers. Moreover, they’re genuinely good people: upon learning about the financial struggles of the festival, they offered to waive their expenses to support the effort.

Punk Against Capitalism and 440 Sound Collective, the teams behind this festival, certainly deserve applause—not just for their effort, risk, and overall responsibility, but also for their taste and sensibility. The first day of the festival, on September 6th, was a more modest affair held at the “Park of the Migrants Shelter Squat” on Tsamadou Street in Exarchia. It featured intriguing bands that stepped beyond the usual boundaries of the scene. For instance, 90s Fat Kid brought a delightful folk-punk sound, creating a bittersweet contrast to their dark lyrics about drugs and rehab, rejection due to sexual orientation, and the suffocation of oppression.

The energy ramped up when My Turn took the stage, sandwiched between 90s Fat Kid and Bratakus, who shook things up even more. Bratakus—a sister duo, Breagha and Onnagh Quinn, hailing from Tomintoul in the Scottish Highlands—felt like a reincarnation of Bikini Kill. With their riot grrrl defiance, minimal instrumentation (guitar, bass, drum machine), and fiery feminism, they were an absolute delight. The only downside? Their sound was noticeably quieter than the band before them. “Crank it up!” as we would shout to the sound engineer back in the day.

Though the younger crowd usually makes the most noise at events like this, the majority of the audience fell into the 30–40 age bracket. That’s something I’ll ponder and try to interpret another time. Of course, there was also a healthy showing of us veterans from all around Athens. We proudly held the line with our enthusiasm, raised cholesterol, and fair share of back and knee pain. Forgive me, then, for skipping out on the final bands of the night—Night in Athens (dark synth punk from UK/Greece) and Thessaloniki’s Bad Movies. I’ve seen Bad Movies countless times, and they always deliver a high-energy punk rock‘n’roll show. After years of covering such marathon events, I now feel like a war correspondent.

So, over and out—for now. Here’s to next year, with even fiercer attitude!