The hardcore heart of No Warning
Back when his Toronto hardcore band No Warning were angry young kids, singer Ben Cook had to fudge a few details whenever he crossed the border into the U.S.
Declaring himself an ‘angry young punk’ wasn’t an option.
“Back in the day we used to say we were like a Christian pop-up band,” he recalls over the phone. “I would put on a nice shirt, put my glasses on and try and look as Christian as possible.”
Flash forward 17 years or so, and Cook doesn’t go to quite the same lengths when entering the U.S. He still gets pulled over on occasion — once for a “medical marijuana massage sex lubricant” — but it’s mostly free of drama.
But once in the U.S., the angry young punk returns. He feels the despair in certain cities, and channels it for a live show that’s still fast and feisty despite the long hiatus.
“It’s America, you know … you can almost see that it’s going to turn into this wasteland after all this s—t collapses,” he says. “All these chains and strip malls.
“Doing a tour of America last year for a month, I kind of fell into this weird almost depression. Going to Starbucks every day, in the morning, because there’s nowhere else to really stop. Look at the newspaper every day, and it’s just ‘Trump, Trump, Trump …’
“You’re just like, man, get me the f--k out of this place. There’s a whole bigger world than what’s going on here. This is just a huge bummer. But I do shout out to all the people holding it down in America.”
The band will be back in the U.S. in late October. But before that, No Warning blitzes Canada for 15 shows, including Tuesday in St. Catharines for a show with Winnipeg punkers Comeback Kid at The Warehouse Concert Hall.
To Cook’s recollection, it’s the first time the band has played in Niagara, though there’s a “foggy, strange time in our lives” when they might have passed through. That’s how it is with No Warning these days — a band with two distinct phases, separated by 12 years.
Formed in 1998, they hit the hardcore scene with purpose, eventually releasing one of the key punk albums of the era, 2002’s “Ill Blood.” But as Cook recalls it, things got worse as the band got bigger.
He realizes it sounds like a cliché, but success didn’t suit them. A year after signing with Linkin Park’s label Machine Group Records (distributed through Warner Bros.) and touring with the likes of Sum 41 and Korn, they were done.
“Before the music industry was completely dummied by the digital era, we kind of caught the last wave of the cliched young rock life.”
Everyone went their separate ways, and Cook found even bigger success with Toronto punk band F--ked Up, winning the 2009 Polaris Music Prize for their second album, “The Chemistry of Common Life.”
He’s still a member — they have a new album coming later this year — but he found reason to kickstart No Warning again in 2013. A former member was having personal problems, eventually landing in jail. The band — all still friends — recorded a benefit single to help with the legal bills. It quickly sold out.
“The hardcore community is there when you need them,” he says. “After that, it was a step into the No Warning world again.”
Reunion shows followed, then the 2017 album “Torture Culture,” which put all of the punk/metal/grunge baggage they’ve been collecting for more than a decade into one fiery package.
To Cook’s relief, the shows are still crazy and cathartic.
“As a person, unless you’re meditating two hours a day, you still hold on to some anger or unresolved emotions from your entire life,” he says.
“Maybe that’s not a good thing. I’m definitely not the anxious teenager I once was, but I still react in ways to this new world that we live in.
“I personally felt that No Warning
would have something to say about this new anxiety, new headache, and new f-king mind control. With phones and social media, it’s been on my mind a lot.”