Punk is not dead: How Malta’s underground scene lives on

When crowds of young punks gather before a compact stage tucked inside Tigullio, Maltese lyrics echo through speaker stacks, right through my ears.

At a GrintaFest gig, this is all you expect, and exactly what you get.

Last month, the Malta Punks DIY Festival, GrintaFest, shook the walls of Tigullio in St Julian’s, bringing decades-old songs back to life as they were shouted back at the stage by a generation of punks that was not around when many of them were first released.

However long ago their release was, the music played at the festival has changed little in its ability to articulate the frustration with Maltese society as it stands.

This cross-generational connection was most evident when Il-Banda Ta’ San Ċipress, a tribute band to Xtruppaw, one of Malta’s most influential punk outfits, took the stage.

“There are moments in your life when you doubt whether you are still relevant, but seeing the torch pass to the next generation brings a sense of satisfaction,” Xtruppaw vocalist Noel Cuschieri said.

Beyond providing a space for subcultural community, GrintaFest’s concept was inspired by archive footage. Event organiser David Cauchi was motivated by a filmed recording of the sixth edition of Festaħwid, the 2000s DIY punk festival that helped catalyse Maltese-language punk.

Festaħwid served as a platform for emerging artists, giving several bands, including Xtruppaw, their first opportunity to perform live. GrintaFest set out to recreate that platform for today’s scene.

“Attendance is everything. If people don’t go, eventually everything will come to a halt,” Cauchi told MaltaToday, describing his role in the scene as one of constantly raising awareness.

Malta's punk scene and the emergence of Maltese-language punk

To understand today's revival, one has to look back to where it all began. Malta’s punk and alternative rock scene began taking shape in the early 1980s around Sliema’s Tigné Point.

Under the direction of Philip Pace, cultural organisation Rokarja AST transformed the former British military barracks at Fort Tigné into an unconventional space where underground musicians could rehearse, perform, and develop their work.

Originally built by the Order of St John in the late 18th century to defend Marsamxett Harbour, the fort’s dense, secluded walls proved ideal for loud, countercultural music. The converted ammunition depot soon welcomed its first musical occupants, including Abstrass.

Founded by Erich Azzopardi (known as Erich il-Punk), the band is widely recognized as Malta’s first punk group.

St Luke’s Garrison Chapel, one of the spaces made available within the barracks, became one of the main venues for concerts, attracting rockers and punks throughout the 1980s. A new life was given to the chapel as amplifiers and vibrations filled the space, replacing the hymns for which its walls had once endured.

Il-Banda Ta’ San Ċipress performing at GrintaFest (Photo: Sarah German)

By the late 1980s and early 1990s, recurring break-ins and redevelopments forced the community out of Tigné.

However, Malta’s punk scene did not remain confined to the barracks or fade into memory. B.N.I. (Batteries Not Included) emerged in 1993 with a sound drawing on a broad range of influences.

B.N.I.’s first full-length album, Native Tongue / Ilsien Pajjiżi, was released in 1999 and marked a significant point in the development of Malta’s punk scene.

It introduced the first punk tracks recorded in Maltese, such as L-Imġissem, Qrunha f’Butha, and Punk, to a genre previously dominated by English. The release proved that the vernacular language could be integrated into punk without compromising its raw edge.

Xtruppaw and a new generation of punk

Building on the foundation laid by B.N.I., the use of Maltese in punk continued into the 2000s, with Xtruppaw emerging in 2006 and releasing their debut album, Is-CD tal-iXtruppaw, nearly two decades ago.

Xtruppaw rejected the more conventional use of English in punk music, instead writing in the colloquial, “tat-triq” language heard in bars and village squares.

“I think the fact that we wrote lyrics in Maltese also helped listeners relate to us—and to the themes we touch upon in our songs—more easily,” drummer Dino Mifsud Lepre told MaltaToday. “Perhaps that was also part of the success we achieved with our music.”

Dino also recognises the beauty in keeping Malta’s linguistic heritage alive, even in music.

Their songs drew sharp humour from everyday local life, like village gossip in Glorja Tonna, teenage angst in Il-Pubertà, and systemic pressure on youth in Ġenerazzjoni Ta’ Meqrudin. Similarly, Innu March (Viva l-Kbir San Ċipress) parodied the country's intense village feast culture by adapting traditional band march rhythms into irreverent commentary.

Yet, beneath the comedic surface, their sound was meant to critique. As bassist, Rex, explains, their music addressed underlying anxieties that were troubling at the time

Satire was used to expose social hypocrisies, taking aim at commercial radio gatekeepers in Min Ħexa Mexa, Diska Cool Għar-Radio, or dismantling romanticized nationalism in Malta, which contrasted postcard tourism with the chaotic reality of daily life on the island.

These were all brought back to the main stage at GrintaFest through Il-Banda Ta’ San Ċipress. For Cauchi, who founded the tribute band, creating it was about keeping that legacy alive on stage.

“I always felt it was a shame that they couldn't perform very often... That’s why I felt compelled to start the tribute band, so that both I and others could enjoy the music, even when the original band wasn't playing live,” Cauchi explained.

At the same time, he wanted to pay tribute to the “brilliant music they created,” that remains hugely popular within the underground community, and bring back their energy to GrintaFest through the band.

“It is indeed significant that, after all these years, today’s younger generation still finds these records relevant and can still identify with them in the same way that our generation did,” Rex noted. “This shows that these social problems are still very much with us, if not more prevalent or more evident and in-your-face than before.”

He recognises that while it is gratifying that Xtruppaw remains musically and culturally relevant to this day, it is also worrying that they remain socially and politically relevant for the same reasons.

The Tigne chapel, a main venue for punk and alternative concerts in the 1980s (Photo: Facebook)

Beyond the music

For Cauchi, one of the most significant outcomes of GrintaFest, apart from giving the scene a new voice, was seeing bands that had long stopped performing return to the stage, permitting younger audiences the opportunity to experience music that might otherwise have remained confined to recordings and memories.

Beyond the music, GrintaFest’s DIY ethos also extended to the visual arts, with the team creating papier-mâché sculptures and props used during performances. In this sense, the slogan “Għall-Punks, Mil-Punks”, featured in the Smashed to Shit zines also created by the team behind GrintaFest, was brought to life in a very physical way.

In this way, much of GrintaFest’s appeal lies in the collective effort behind it, from bringing bands together to creating the festival itself. In a scene built around independent initiatives, this work allows Malta’s underground history to reach new audiences while creating opportunities for it to continue.

As Cauchi put it, “If you aren't organizing a festival like GrintaFest for the fun of it, then—to me—you lose sight of the point of organizing it.”

Looking ahead, Cauchi is determined to keep building on this momentum to ensure the underground scene continues to thrive for the next generation.

When asked about a second edition of GrintaFest he insisted “if people want it and our team wants it, I think it almost has to happen now.”