Black­pool

Poverty, neglect, and dilapidated properties: Blackpool is considered a social disaster area. Distinguished travelers usually give the city of 140,000 inhabitants northwest of Manchester a wide berth. But in August, punks from all over the world flock here for the annual Rebellion Festival. Perhaps it's the obvious parallels between the once-magnificent seaside resort and their music that attract them. Like Blackpool, the once-revolutionary punk movement has long since passed its prime. Both seem, in an equally charming and depressing way, somehow out of step with the times and broken. Walking through Blackpool, one inevitably thinks of the punk slogan "No Future," born of despair and pessimism.

Visitors are confronted with a bizarre jumble of figures marked by life's hardships, mobility-impaired seniors with neon-colored hair on electric vehicles, dilapidated amusement arcades, and Barbie carriages. But in the city center, signs of investment are visible. Among the grease-smeared fish and chip stands, there are now cafes offering vegan English breakfasts, facades are being painted, and the police are patrolling.

The same picture emerges on countless stages. While some bands are truly on their last legs, there's always new, fresh music to discover. Punks are not dead (to borrow another motto of the scene), and Blackpool is also indestructible. Those English are tough.