Remus & the Romulus Nation Rock-and-roll -- in all its youthful vigor, passion, and naivete -- is alive and well on a crumbling-down block of Midtown. There on a recent Sunday night dozens of young people squeezed through the back door of a small, empty Madison Avenue store front. Though the location still bears a sign advertising the old tenants, those plugged into the grassroots scene know the spot as the DIY Club, named in honor of the self-styled movement of underground punk and emo bands that are its staple. DIY stands for do it yourself, which is the necessary approach for most of the bands in this scene, bands whose strong political and philosophical take precludes any commercial considerations. Case in point: This night's show was a benefit for the anti-death penalty group, Tennessee Coalition to Abolish State Killing. Almost as an afterthought, however, it was also a release-party for a new split single featuring longtime Memphis punksters Pezz and this week's Moment of Truth, Remus & the Romulus Nation. Among bands in the DIY movement, Remus may be among the most dedicated to their principles as set down on the band's Web site (http://on.to/remus): "Though the punk community is fighting the corporate world through DIY, it still depends on capital and profits. In fact, recent trends would say hardcore and consumerism go hand in hand. In order to truly live up to our words, we as a band have decided to only do benefit records or at least records with a direct purpose, something that will make a difference. In doing so the band becomes more than just music, it becomes a tool, a small weapon of sorts, to fight against ignorance and global oppression. No windbreakers, $30 hooded sweatshirts, baseball caps, limited eBay records, or show contracts. Just DIY punk." It is an admirable stance, one that makes a fat-cat, comfortable sell-out like myself long for the days when things were a bit more black and white, the villains wore wax mustaches, and there was a bit more piss and vinegar in my veins. Following brief sets by opening bands All the Answers, Caufields Aside, and Children's Crusade, Remus took the stage, such as it was. In true egalitarian fashion the band just carved out a little space for themselves on the floor. The band and the audience bumped right up against each other, but the crowd mostly respected the performance space, even when the loud thrashing rhythms sent bodies flying into each other. For about 30 minutes, Remus railed against the misdeeds and injustices in the world -- guns ("Man With Gun Lives Here"), tobacco ("Your Local Recruiting Office), the war on drugs ("Casualties of the Drug War") and suburban disenfranchisement ("This Is Not Confidential"). Not that you'd be much aware of the band's politics if it weren't for the lead singer's occasional pre-song diatribes. Most of the messages are lost in the music -- high-energy, bombastic punk that, much like the potent activism on display, seems to act as a vent for the hormone-ravaged crowd; between sets a handful of boys takes to having mock wrestling bouts like baby cubs. The whole evening was like that: young people apparently so full of passion and energy that it was bursting out. Unfortunately, most of us find that passion dies after a while. But every once in a while there's a holdout. Let's hope so. -- Mark Jordan