Battalion of Saints
Fighting Boys 12” EP
1982 – Nutron Records

George Anthony – Vocals
Chris Smith – Guitar
James Cooper – Bass
Ted Olsen – Drums

1 – E/B 1:11
2 – Fighting Boys 1:43
3 – Modern Day Heroes 1:13
4 – (I’m Wanna) Make You Scream 2:28

I remember the exact moment that I first found out about Battalion of Saints, it was when I picked up Flipside number 31, the Spring 1982 issue. I would do my usual flip-through, then go back, and read whatever caught my eye. I would start flipping through, and it was there on page eleven, staring back at me was some of the coolest artwork, punk or otherwise, that I had ever seen! This guy “Mad” Marc Rude had taken every cool art element, comic book, graffiti, and thrown it all together into one cool-ass piece of work. It reminded me, a bit, of the Berni Wrightson art from the early 1970’s Swamp Thing comics, but a bit more dangerous.

Like most of my purchases back then, I made the trip down to Moby Disc in Sherman Oaks, CA to pick this one up. I know the saying goes “never judge a book by its cover,” but in this case . . . I did just that. I admit it, based solely on Marc Rude’s art I bought this! The packaging was incredibly slick, there was also a poster inside, and they really went all out. The band only pressed 2,000 copies of this EP.

What surprised me about them was, I later learned, was that they were from San Diego, but looked like they were a British band, like they may have grown up down the street from Discharge. At one point they had Capt. Scarlet play bass for them. Scarlet, who was from England, had played for the Exploited, and the U.K. Subs for a short time. From 1978 to 1981, they played under the name the Nutrons.

Something else that impressed me was, the singer, George Anthony’s tattoos, he had some really good-looking tattoos. Now, this was before the early 1990’s Mickey Rourke era tattoo explosion. One of his tattoos was a skull on a bible, and another was some kind of skeletal creature in a graveyard. Great looking.

I have to admit when I put the record on, back in 1981, I liked all of the songs right off. They had definite wall of sound about them. But as I am writing this I’m re-listening to this for the first time in almost 20 years, I now think songs one, and three are pretty much filler tracks. They are typical of most of the music coming out at that time. There’s a lot of energy in these songs, but “(I’m Wanna) Make You Scream” is Battalion at their best. The guitar in this song is really infectious, and George Anthony’s vocals soar.

E/B, the first track, and the shortest track, has allot of energy, but the lyrics, like all of the tracks on this EP, were a bit weak. After listening to Bad Religion, and hearing the type of lyrics Greg Graffin was able to produce at the age of 16 is phenomenal. Graffin was able to make very socially conscious songs without compromising the sound, or quality of the song. Another notable lyrist was Darby Crash, he had an ability to write about things and have you understand, and be confused at the same time. E/B was done in kind of a British hardcore style, slipping between screaming, and a singsong type chorus. I have no idea what the title means. If you listened to any Hardcore in the early 80’s you probably heard these types of lyrics rehashed a few times. The lyric “Governments will try to make sure we have no private lives” is more relevant in this current administration, than ever before.

Fighting Boys, the second track, has a lot of energy in this song. The verses are so wordy, that at times it seems like George is rushing past the music to spit them out. After a few listens the chorus hooks you:

“Fighting boys have no choice
But to Fight, Fight, Fight
Fighting boys go out in the streets
And go wild!”

Modern Day Heroes is probably the worst song on here. I understand what the plan was here. Like most of the British Hardcore bands of the time they were very socially, and politically aware, so this is what Battalion was trying to do on this side of the pond, but because of the way it was written it comes off sounding very forced:

“Killers now are so drab
They’re modern day heroes
Killers are now heroes
Modern day heroes
Killers are now heroes.”

(I Wanna) Make You Scream, the longest song on the EP, music-wise this is also the best song. By the time you get to this track all the doom and gloom is a bit much. Having been a fan this type of music for a little under thirty years, I’m not saying I want a happy-go-lucky type track, but different groups from this time, like the Adolescents have given the negativity a break for a second and still were able to put out good tracks like Amoeba. Whether you liked Amoeba, or not, it was a fun track.

“I wanna make you scream
With his hands around your neck
I wanna make you scream
It’s a better world now that you’re dead.”

Like all hardcore music from this time, you have to be in the mood for certain bands. But this one is cool to own, throw it on when you’re driving or having a party. A short party, the EP is only 6:34 minutes. But by today’s standards that’s 30 minutes of anyone else’s music. The original EP is extremely rare, every once in a while a bootleg of this will pop up (one from Mexico came out years ago on green vinyl), and the music has been re-released on a CD called Death R Us, released in 1995. They also had three original songs on the BYO Records compilation “Someone Got Their Head Kicked In,” which was, also, released in 1982.

The original Battalion of Saints lineup put out the “Fighting Boys” 12″ EP, and the “Second Coming” LP, plus numerous compilation tracks. Most of this material has been re-released on the “Death-R-Us” CD available on Taang Records.

In 1984, Chris Smith the guitarist for Battalion of Saints died. The story was that he slipped in the bathtub, and cracked his head open, proceeding to drown. They actually had found him lying dead in the bathtub with syringes lying all over the place from shooting up heroin, and speed.

In 2002, Battalion of Saints reformed, the current line-up includes San Diego veterans Matt Anderson on bass, Scott Bartoloni on guitar, Steve “Gerabix” Gearhardt & Mario Rubalcaba sharing duties on drums, and Londis “TK” Kues also on guitar.

Rating: *** three out of three stars

The standout cuts are: (I Wanna) Make You Scream, and Fighting Boys.

If you can find it, give it a try.

LIFE WON’T WAIT will be out August 2013, reserve a copy today: http://tiny.cc/rutyvw

In the early to mid-1970’s my Mom owned two different Oldsmobile ‘98’s, A gold one, and then a green one. These two cars were music central growing up. Both cars had an 8-track player, and depending on what music my Mom was into at the time, that’s what we were exposed to.

I had a comment left on my Gaslight Anthem review a week or so back, saying I should never mention Springsteen again, and that he was a poser (what was he posing as, a singer?). So, it got me thinking about when I first heard his music back in 1975, and all the music I was exposed to in the back seat of an Oldsmobile ’98, that alone sounds like a Springsteen song.

I don’t know if any of these tapes had anything to do with me getting into punk. But my constant exposure to a variety of music, may, or may not have helped me find a music that spoke to me.

10. A Star Is Born – 1976
Like all of the movie soundtracks at this time, I was too young to see the movie when it was out. I always dug Kris Kristofferson’s voice. I finally saw this flick when I was about 40 on DVD. The Crippled Crow is still a barnburner.

9. Boz Scaggs – Silk Degrees – 1976
I don’t remember much about this particular tape, other than the Lido Shuffle song. I saw him at the Greek Theatre, about, twenty-five years later, . . . and I was bored to sleep.

8. Bruce Springsteen – The River – 1981
The lyrics for the song are still great (for a poser):

“I got a job working construction, for the Johnstown Company
But lately there ain’t been much work, on account of the economy
Now all them things that seemed so important —
Well mister, they vanished right into the air.”

It could have been written about the Regan years, or the more recent Bush era.

7. Bruce Springsteen – Darkness on the Edge of Town – 1978
As you can tell, my Mom loved Springsteen. I think Candy’s Room was her favorite off of this tape.

6. Buddy Holly – 20 Golden Greats (Lives) – 1978
The Buddy Holly Story had come out, and we were into this tape for a while.

5. The Beatles Rock N Roll Music – 1976
Not a Beatles fan, actually quite the opposite, but as a ten-year-old kid, this tape fascinated me. It had Helter Skelter on it, and we were all aware of the Manson murders (they were eight years earlier) and we I would listen to this song I would try to figure out what Manson heard. I only heard a bunch of nonsense.

4. Meat Loaf – Bat Out of Hell – 1977
Like a lot of the stuff that I heard back then, I didn’t understand the song Paradise By The Dashboard Light. I didn’t know there was sex going on here. I knew there was a duet, then a baseball game being announced, and a very long song.

3. Rocky Horror Picture Show – 1975
Again, I didn’t understand any of this, Sweet Transvestite, and Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me, I Can Make You a Man. I finally saw this in 1989, and had no idea what I had been listening to as a kid.

2. Bruce Springsteen – Born To Run – 1975
Again, some good lyrics:

“The screen door slams
Mary’ dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely.”

Love him or hate, he writes a good visual.

1. The Phantom of The Paradise – 1974
To this day I still dig this soundtrack, but again, didn’t see it until I was in my 40’s, . . . and it pretty much sucks. But if you grew up in the ‘70’s you were exposed to Paul Williams’ music, from Star Is Born to Phantom, he did some decent stuff.

There was a quote I came across the other day that fits here: “If you want to make a punk rocker happy, give him something to hate.” So, hopefully my choices make you happy.

LIFE WON’T WAIT will be out August 2013, reserve a copy today: http://tiny.cc/rutyvw

Spoken Word, featuring Henry Rollins/Jeffrey Lee Pierce/Therese Covarrubias
Bebop Records, Reseda, CA
Tuesday, May 8, 1984
Admission $5.00
Time: 8:00

I agreed to go to this thing with a friend of mine, Matt Karlsen. I wasn’t really into spoken word shows. It was still some years off before I would get turned onto Charles Bukowski, and get into the poetry scene. Matt was the singer for a punk/alternative band called Earth Dies Burning. Bebop Records had stocked a compilation tape, and that included Earth Dies Burning on it. So, walking into this shop Matt was a pretty well known guy. The previous year Flipside had printed the lyrics to the Earth Dies Burning song America America.

Bebop Records was located at the corner of Sherman Way, and Canby Avenue. From about 1981 to mid-1984 the area where Bebop was located was a sort of mini punk haven. Bebop largely catered to the alternative crowd, alternative before it meant grunge and/or emo. I remember for a while in the early 1980’s L.A. Weekly stopped distributing their newspaper in the San Fernando Valley for free, for a short time it cost . . . something like 50¢, and the owners of Bebop would drive into L.A. every week and pick up stacks of it and bring it back to the shop for it’s customers to take for free. Across the street was Chuck Landis’ Country Club, at least once a month they would have some kind of punk show, and, on the third Sunday of every month, they would put on Record Swap Meets. The Swap Meets were, pretty much, how I stayed up on the scene. Whatever shows I couldn’t go to, or afford, I would always find somebody who would be selling cassette tapes of these gigs. I remember going to a swap meet there, and buying for $5.00 a tape of two Fear shows on one side, and two Circle Jerks shows on the other. Catty corner from the Country Club was a hair salon called Attena. It was, originally, a hair salon that opened in Hollywood somewhere, by some guy with a German type accent, and a crazy Mohawk. He specialized in Punk hair cuts, multi-colored Mohawks with flags attached on the ends. Anyway, after a couple of years he moved his shop to Reseda. This whole neighborhood has since been used again, and again in Paul Dean Anderson’s films Boogie Nights, and Magnolia.

Matt picked me up at my house, about 7:45pm, and within 5 minutes we were at Bebop. Paid at the cash register, walked in to find a seat. I noticed sitting at the far end of the room, near the stage, was Henry Rollins. He was sitting, looking down, in a black t-shirt, stringy hair covering his face, squeezing a number thirteen pool ball. As I would learn later, Henry took this pool ball off a pool table at a club in San Antonio, Texas after the police raided the show, and broke it up. The show was on August 19, 1982

I had received a letter from Henry, in 1981, on the back of a yellow 11 x 17 Black Flag flyer. It was a response to a letter I sent to Black Flag. I had read in Flipside that they needed help, from fans, distributing flyers. So, I wrote them, and told them where I lived, and if they needed anybody to pass out flyers in that area? A week, or so later Henry wrote me back thanking me for the offer, but they had that part of the Valley covered, and a few more things, like keep listening, things like that. I was completely stoked. I couldn’t conceive any other group that I had liked as a kid sending me a pencil written letter, addressing me by name. It was big-time! Can you imagine Gene Simmons from Kiss writing a letter like this?

Anyway, I walk up to Henry, who is still busy with his pool ball, and I extend my hand and say “Great to meet you,” to which he just lets out some sort of weird growl, and never looks up. Kind of weird. Within this subculture, this could be viewed as really cool, or really rude. I went with cool. Like, he’s so deep into his stuff he can’t be broken out of his concentration.

A couple of people go on, and do readings; I can’t remember who they were. One of them is possibly Exene Cervenka, from the group X, but I’m not sure.

All the spoken pieces would alternate between painfully deep, to clever and ironic. I knew this because of the crowds reactions, the deep stuff would get “oh’s” from the crowd, and the clever/ironic stuff would get “he, he’s.”

As the evening wore on Jeffrey Lee Pierce (or as he called himself: the “Marilyn Monroe from Hell”) came on. I have always known of him, and his band The Gun Club, but never got into them. I know that he had been involved in the L.A. scene from the start, but like I said I never got into them. Almost 12 years to the date Jeffrey Lee Pierce would die of a brain hemorrhage on Sunday, March 31, 1996, in Salt Lake City, Utah. He was only 37 years old. Pierce lived in London, and Europe, where he was considered a major songwriting talent as well as a rock star. Unfortunately, America would never seem to regard him in that same light. As far as his spoken word, and poetry readings he seemed to be a bit intoxicated. I had heard he was addicted to heroin at the time. The readings came off kind of loopy. And all of them ended with him kind of snickering.

Finally, Henry Rollins came on. I found out a bit later that this was only Henry’s third live spoken word performance. 1984, this is around the time when Black Flag was going through their Charles Manson stage. The long hair, the wild look in their eyes, and an abundance of weird Raymond Pettibon flyers. If you have ever seen Henry speak you know how intense the guy is. He came on with his hair covering his face, kind of pacing. It was hard to tell if he was going to do spoken word or self-destruct and explode. Anyway, he gets going, and almost all the stuff from side one of the Family Man album (which would be released four months later, in September of 1984):

Shed Reading – Rattus Norvegicus
Salt on a Slug
Family Man
Hollywood Diary
Let Your Fingers Do the Walking
No Deposit, No Return

He opened, I believe, with the intense Shed Reading:

“I am Rattus Norvegicus.
I’m sitting in some shit-hole rat’s nest and I’m a little angry.
I wanted to be a talk show host-not a rat.
You men think you have it bad with women?
I’ve got it a lot worse let me tell you.
What am I gonna say to some nice looking girl who I want to meet?
I can tread water for over 36 hours?
I can chew through lead pipes and cinderblocks?
I can run on telephone wires?!
And what if I do get the girl home?
Can’t fit her though the door-it’s too small.
Yeah I got a lot of girls.
How’d you like to have a tail that went through your body to drag around all the time?
Not my idea of fun by a long shot!
And do you see the neighborhoods that I’m forced to live in?
Those people live like pigs!
Can’t catch the subway-they haven’t built it yet.
Can’t catch the up-town bus I can’t reach the step-up.
Hey taxi!
And everyone,
Wants to kill me,
Feed me drugs and poison,
Put electrodes in my head and make me run on treadmills
Dissect, bisect, and defect me.
Biome, blind, mane and tame me.
Are you folk’s crazy?!
You never invite me to your parties as if I would really wanna go anyhow.
Have you ever asked me to go to a movie?
How ‘bout bowling?
You ever seen a rat cry?
I got tears.
And I have a heart-and I got brains.
If you could just see past the fur,
I think that you would see
That I’m a lot like you.”

All the stuff was entertaining, and well written. The piece that stood out the most was the Salt on a Slug piece. On the album it’s about a minute and a half, here it was pretty expanded. He ended the piece by talking about the slug coming back for revenge, and hiding in his coffee. Real funky piece. I remember a day or so later having my Mom ask me how the show was, and I couldn’t remember anything, but the Slug piece. So, I explain the whole Slug in the coffee thing, and my Mom just staring, like “Why?” But I think the weird humor of it caught on, because a day or so after that I heard her repeating the story to a friend on the phone.

After the show, Henry was gone like a flash. Before any of us could say “Hey, great show” or anything he was gone.

Unless you’ve been living in a cave somewhere, you know how incredibly successful spoken word has been for him, the books, the DVD’s, and the college circuit. I remember reading about him in Flipside when he was still the singer for SOA in Washington DC. Back then his name was Henry Garfield. I don’t know what his real last name is, but I do remember all the fuss that was made when it was announced that he would be the new singer for Black Flag and that Dez Cadena would move over to rhythm guitar. Before they even recorded anything, Henry was on the cover of Flipside (I think a picture by Edward Colver, of their first live show in L.A.).

It was also around this time (1984) that Black Flag was recorded their only officially released live concert. The DVD Black Flag – Live! was released in 2000. The quality was pretty bad, but if you’re a fan it may be worth checking out.

To contradict the Jim Morrison book No One Here Gets Out Alive, I’m pleased that Henry was one of the few that got out, and has been successful in doing what he wants to do. If you get a chance to go, and hear him speak, he is engaging, and over the years he has lightened up. You no longer feel that he is going to pounce on you and try to kill you for looking at him too long.

LIFE WON’T WAIT will be out August 2013, reserve a copy today: http://tiny.cc/rutyvw

Blitz
Never Surrender 45
1982 – No Future Records

Carl Fisher – Vocals
Charlie Howe – Drums
Neil “Mackie” McLennan – Bass
Alan “Nidge” Miller – Guitar

01 – Never Surrender 1:33
02 – Razors in the Night 1:53

I first discovered Blitz on the 1982 Posh Boy album Punk and Disorderly; it was the number 8 song (I believe). Someone’s Gonna Die. This was exactly the type of music I needed at that time, a powerful kick-in-the-ass. It felt like, dare I say, a more polished, sing along version of the Sex Pistols Never mind the Bullocks album. Definitely British in its snarling delivery and grungy guitar work.

Shortly after buying Punk and Disorderly, I found a copy of the Never Surrender/ Razors in the Night single in Hollywood, at a shop on Melrose called Vinyl Fetish (where my Uncle Rick filmed his part for “I Love L.A.”). I loved the detailed, yet simple, artwork. I think I was one of many punks back then that loved the hell out of skull imagery. I probably owned 20 plus albums with skulls on the cover alone. Anyways, I got home and popped the single on the turntable, for some reason I decided to put on Razors in the Night first. The way this thing was labeled, both songs were side A. So, I listened to Razors in the Night, and it is GREAT! I think I listened to it four or five times in a row. Half because I loved it, and half to try and figure out the words. The lyrics were cool, violent, but cool:

“Running away, something better ahead
But you gotta think fast before it’s too late
Just one cut around your head
Just one minute and you’ll call me dead

You better watch out for the razors in the night
You better leave out the razors in the night

Backstreet boys wear boots and braces
Razor blades and angry faces
Too much tension, too much fear
What the hell are we doing here?

Murder is the biggest prize in sport
Cause violence is the only game you’ve been taught
A pool of warm blood is your prize
Or a cold blade across your eyes”

I was listening to it again the other day and the lyric “Backstreet boys wear boots and braces” seems funny now that a 90’s boy band took that name. So, now I picture them in back-alley fights.

I finally flipped the record and listened to Never Surrender. This is also a strong track. I like it, not as much as Razors in the Night, but it’s good. The lyrics are, pretty much, like all their stuff at that time “stay strong, don’t let authority get you down.” But the lyrics were how a lot of us felt at that time. Based on the strength of Razors in the Night, buy it, if you can find it. Anyways, this is what they had to say in Never Surrender:

“Never Surrender

Never surrender, never give in
Never let the enemy win
Never say why, never say die
It’s always worth another try

Never surrender

Never give in to things they say
Better move fast before it’s too late
Lose the race, lose your face
Better keep cool and play the ace”

Blitz was viewed as one of the first Oi bands around.  A title given to them by Gary Bushell, who at the time, wrote for Sounds Magazine in England. The down side of being given the title “Oi Band” is that it is automatically assumed that you are a racist band. But Nidge disputed this claim by pointing out that his road crew, back then, was black.

Blitz started the trend of looking like, and dressing like the gang from A Clockwork Orange. At one of their early photo shoots the photographer asked Carl to dress up like the Malcolm McDowell character, Alex. After that photo session came out, it was like a monopoly effect. Everywhere I went somebody had the white shirt, suspenders and oftentimes the bowler hat, and let’s not forget Doc Martin’s.

Blitz Never Surrender, and Razors in the Night, are definitely worth a listen, if you can track this vinyl down. Both tracks were written as a group effort by: Carl Fisher, Charlie Howe, Neil “Mackie” McLennan, and Alan “Nidge” Miller. This was Blitz’ second single, and it went to number two in the UK independent charts. They were also the first band to sign with the British label No Future records.

Nidge Miller was killed on February 9, 2007, while crossing a highway after a gig in Austin, Texas. This may very well be the end of Blitz forever.

LIFE WON’T WAIT will be out August 2013, reserve a copy today: http://tiny.cc/rutyvw

The Gaslight Anthem
The ’59 Sound
SideOneDummy Records
Producer Ted Hutt
Released August 19, 2008

Brian Fallon – lead vocals, guitar
Alex Rosamilia – guitar, backing vocals
Alex Levine – bass, backing vocals
Benny Horowitz – drums, percussion, tambourine

1. Great Expectations – 3:05
2. The ’59 Sound – 3:09
3. Old White Lincoln – 3:23
4. High Lonesome – 3:05
5. Film Noir – 3:29
6. Miles Davis & The Cool – 4:11
7. The Patient Ferris Wheel (featuring Dicky Barrett) – 3:34
8. Casanova, Baby! – 2:57
9. Even Cowgirls Get the Blues – 3:30
10. Meet Me by the River’s Edge (featuring Chris Wollard) – 3:19
11. Here’s Looking at You, Kid – 3:36
12. The Backseat – 4:14

If by some freak scientific experiment you were able to splice the DNA of Mike Ness, and Bruce Springsteen, and cloned this creature, and said go form a band, and spread the news of punk rock, and New Jersey Americana. There would only be one name for this creature: Gaslight Anthem!

I was up late one night, I couldn’t sleep, and I turned on the Fuse channel and the video for Great Expectations comes on, and for whatever reason I still remembered the video in the morning. 90% of the crap I watch in the middle of the night is wiped out of my brain by the time I wake up. So, I wake up, and guess what? I remember the band. So, I bump into my Brother that morning. And the best of my recollection I say I heard a band last night that sounded as if Springsteen started a punk band. Good rock ‘n roll, with a punk touch.

Since that day my Brother has seen them a couple of times live, at least once at The Wiltern in L.A., and he mentioned the place had it’s own mosh pit, and the crowd was full of Bowery Boys looking guys. So, they may or may not be punk, but the draw the punk crowd.

Rating: ** * two out of three stars

The standout cuts are: The ’59 Sound, and Great Expectations.

If you can find it, give it a try.

On to the story . . .

A few years back a “family member” went through a bad break-up with his Wife. And like most people that didn’t see the break-up coming, he handled it very badly. He called people in her family night and day. Called her kids saying he missed them, on and on.

One night I was coming home from work in Burbank, and I was on the 5 Freeway Northbound, and this guy (he shall remain nameless) calls me (again), and he starts in with “she was cheating, she hasn’t touched me in ten months, on and on.

So, I tell him to listen to what I’m going to say, he doesn’t. So, I say stop talking for a sec, he doesn’t. So, on the third time I finally cut him off and say shut the fuck up, and stop being a pussy for a minute. Then he mumbles, oh sorry I’m just hurting so bad. Again, shut up.

So, I explained to him that there are steps you have to endure in a break up, the worse the break up the harder the recovery.

1. You wallow in self-pity for a few weeks, maybe a month.
2. You start hanging out with your partners, posse, homies, whatever you call them, and drink like a fish, and hang out in clubs. Hoping to see your ex’s friends so you can insult them.
3. You screw everything in sight, including some of your ex’s friends that you previously insulted.
3a. Somewhere between 3 and 4 you become bitter. You no longer feel sorry for yourself, you hate her; hate her family, and you how stupid you were for ever being with her.
4. Follow steps 2, and 3 for approximately six months, until one day you wake up, and realize you don’t hurt anymore (except for the hangover you haven’t been able to shake for the last four months), and you don’t need to do 2 and 3 anymore, but now you have to do something about the crustacean infestation in your pants.

He listened, and whined I can’t live without her . . . I hung up.

I told you all of that, to tell you all of this:

Some time back in the ‘90’s, before meeting my Wife; I went through a break up with someone that I thought I was very serious about. We had fun, but it wasn’t meant to be a permanent relationship, we were young, selfish, and stupid. But the night we split, I didn’t know this. And like the guy I mentioned above, I wallowed in self-pity “she never loved me,” on and on. I attempted to jump into step 2 immediately, and I crashed and burned fast. I wouldn’t insult the friends; I would hope they would take pity on me. I was a wreck.

It was during this time that a friend of mine from way back, Lance, came by in his supped up Honda that you could hear a mile away, to take out to some club. We pretty much pulled together every cent we had, and spent it all on every bit of booze we could procure. We left the club at 1:30 am, and I had only two things on my mind:

1. Urinating.
2. Sleep.

But would ole Uncle Mike get to do these things? No! Lance gets a page on the way home. He says this chick that works, as a stripper wants us to come by. Then as he is racing towards Northridge, in the heart of the Valley, he mumbles, “You can fuck her Aunt.” I am half-asleep against the passenger window, and I say “what?” He says, “It’s cool.”

I am three sheets to the wind, I want to sleep and pee, that’s it. We arrive. He helps me out of the car, up the walkway, to the door of this “dancer’s” apartment. Leans me against the door jam, and he knocks. This Blonde who looks like she could be employed by Vivid Video, opens the door.

Still leaning, I look over at her, and she is buck-naked. She does this crazy split, where her leg goes straight up, and her foot is facing the ceiling, and says, “See anything you like?” I look at Lance, and state the obvious: “Where the fuck are her clothes?” He laughs. She frowns.

I find a bathroom, come out, and plop down on the couch. The Stripper puts on some music, starts dancing, and puts a beer in my hand, then one in Lance’s hand. I’m almost asleep when I feel someone rubbing my shoulders, and then whisper “Hi” in my ear. I wake up to see “The Aunt.”

The Stripper’s Aunt could be her twin Sister, unless I was seeing double. She’s wearing a Japanese robe of some sort. Stands in front of me, and drops the robe, and starts dancing.

Rather than enjoy this like most guys, I am thinking of different escape routes. I am plastered, and I want to see my BED!

Finally, Lance comes over and whispers to me: “I’m thinking about banging the Aunt, distract the stripper, you could fuck her.” Shit. I thought Lance was going to break me out of here.

The Aunt is now rolling around on the floor naked saying, “We are very free-spirited people.” I think that means “We are ho’s.” Anyway, Lance is eyeing the Aunt like a starving dog, and the Stripper leans over and says to me: “If you want, you can just hop onto to her.”

WTF? But the longer Lances keeps eyeing the Aunt, the angrier the Stripper gets. Finally, over the music I hear “fuck you then.”

I stand up and make my to the door, fumble with the lock, and start towards the walkway. Lance starts chasing me; he’s laughing, and then says, “Where are you going?”

The only thing I can manage to articulate is “this is too surreal, I got to go home.”

Laughing, he says, “OK.” Looks at the nudes, and says, “Let me drop him off, and I’ll be back.”

Needless to say, I never saw the lovely women again. But Lance, that’s another story. We had many more adventures like this throughout the mid-90’s, some I’ll tell, and some . . .

LIFE WON’T WAIT will be out August 2013, reserve a copy today: http://tiny.cc/rutyvw

Adolescents
Adolescents (The Blue Album)
1981 – Frontier Records

Tony Cadena – Vocals
Casey Royer – Drums
Rikk Agnew – Guitar
Frank Agnew – Guitar
Steve Soto – Bass

01 – I Hate Children
02 – Who Is Who
03 – Wrecking Crew
04 – L.A. Girl
05 – Self Destruct
06 – Kids of the Black Hole
07 – No Way
08 – Amoeba
09 – Word Attack
10 – Rip It Up
11 – Democracy
12 – No Friends
13 – Creatures

What can you say about this album that most everybody doesn’t already know?

Well, for starters it’s one of the best punk albums out of Los Angeles ever made.

I bought this LP back in 1981, after hearing Amoeba on the first Rodney On The ROQ album, on Posh Boy Records. Still to this day Amoeba is a real fun song.

I hadn’t listened to this album in about twenty years. After years of moving, and relocating, my copy was long gone. So, my Brother, and I went to Amoeba Records (there’s a joke in here somewhere) on Sunset Blvd in Hollywood. And I was set on trying to restock some of my old collection. I picked up an import by Blitz, The Adolescents album, and an Angry Samoans album (it sucks). I have to say at the first listening all the lyrics came back to me and it took me back almost thirty years.

I got the chance to listen to it again the other night. I got a call from my oldest nephew saying his family was getting on his nerves, and he needed to get out of the house. So, I figured since no one is in the car with me to whine about my musical tastes, I’d pop in the Adolescents, and take the drive across town. I pick up my nephew, and turn the music down, and we start talking, and he starts commenting on the music, telling me that this song, and that song is in this video game, and this other song is on My Space. In our short drive I went from feeling nostalgic, to feeling very contemporary. As much as I love old hardcore, I never thought it would’ve ever fit in the video game world.

All thirteen songs are great. The stand-out cuts are Wrecking Crew, Kids of the Black Hole, Rip It Up, and of course Amoeba. All the instruments are played flawlessly, and on L.A. Girl, and I Hate Children you can hear Tony doing a bit of a Darby Crash snarl; it’s not a rip-off, more of a tribute.

The Adolescents were formed in 1980 in Fullerton, at the border of Orange County. Lead vocalist Tony Cadena (aka Montana, Adolescent, and Reflex) joined up with bassist Steve Soto, who’d just left Agent Orange. They recruited guitarist Frank Agnew (who’d just left an early lineup of Social Distortion), guitarist John O’Donovan, and drummer Peter Pan (seriously). This lineup split-up quickly, and the latter two were replaced by guitarist Rikk Agnew (Frank’s brother) and drummer Casey Royer; both had been playing in the Detours, and both had also been original members of Social Distortion. Later that year, the group issued the classic single “Amoeba” on Posh Boy Records; the track also appeared, as I mentioned, on the first Rodney on the ROQ compilation, assembled by DJ Rodney Bingenheimer.

The Adolescents’ self-titled debut album was released on Frontier Records in 1981, and quickly became the one of the best-selling California hardcore albums of all time. Despite its success, Rikk Agnew left the band by the end of the year; he recorded a solo LP for Frontier, All by Myself, on which he played all the instruments, and also joined Christian Death, playing on their debut album, Only Theatre of Pain, in 1982. He was replaced very briefly by ex-Germs guitarist Pat Smear, then by Royer’s roommate Steve Roberts. With Roberts, the quintet recorded a three-song EP, Welcome to Reality; however, the group had already broke-up by the time it was released in the fall of 1982. Royer concentrated on fronting D.I., which expanded to include Rikk Agnew once his stint in Christian Death had ended. Soto, and Frank Agnew both joined Legal Weapon, while Cadena formed a new group called the Abandoned.

In 1986, the version of the Adolescents that had recorded the group’s lone album reunited for a series of shows around Los Angeles. They soon began working on new material, but before long, Royer returned to D.I., and Frank Agnew left as well. Sandy Hansen replaced them on drums and the Agnew’s younger brother Alfie on guitar. This lineup recorded the comeback album Brats in Battalions, which was eventually released in 1987 on the band’s own label; by that time, Alfie Agnew had departed for college, to be replaced by Dan Colburn. After touring for most of 1987, both Colburn and lead singer Cadena left as well.

Rikk Agnew, and Steve Soto decided to share lead vocal duties, and kept the band going. They recruited guitarist Paul Casey, who left after a few months of touring; a returning Frank Agnew replaced him. This lineup recorded 1988′s Balboa Fun Zone, on Triple X, which deviated from the group’s trademark style, but won some praise nonetheless. The Adolescents broke up again. In April 1989 Triple X issued the split LP Live 1981 and 1986. Soto, Hansen, and Frank Agnew formed Joyride, which released two albums in the early 1990s, though Agnew left almost immediately. Rikk Agnew resumed his solo career, and also toured with Christian Death’s reunited original lineup. Also in the early ’90s, Cadena, Royer, and Rikk Agnew started performing together as ADZ, releasing an album together in 1995; Cadena was the only one who stayed on, and kept ADZ going into the new millennium, eventually with help from Frank Agnew.

Now, if you could remember which members are still around, and what groups they were originally members of you win this weeks’ no prize.

If you don’t own it go and buy it, stop reading! Go buy it.

Rating: *** three out of three stars

On to the story:

In the Summer of 1982, my Mother, Brother, and I are walking into a record shop on Ventura Blvd, in Encino, CA, called Big Ben’s. Big Ben’s has been closed now for a good twenty something years. Anyway, my Mother, and Brother go walking into the store, and I’m straggling behind in an Agent Orange t-shirt – just as I get to the door two long-haired Beavis and Butthead type guys come walking out, and start mad-dogging me, they start flexing up like their going to fight me. So, I stand there until I know what’s going to happen, then one of the guy’s starts yelling the words to Amoeba at me, then they walk away, and yell back at me “What?” I remember telling my Mom this story once I get inside, and she told me “If they hate punk so much, why do they know the lyrics to this punk song?” I look back now, it’s because we were different. You mock what’s different, but if the music is good . . . you have no choice, but to sing along. And these boneheads knew the song was good.

I remember my Father telling me once around the time I was first getting into punk, about a time in the late 1960’s. My Father bought this chopper from the set of the Billy Jack movie Born Losers. It was a three-wheeled chopper with a seat where the tank ends, and a chair above the rear axles. Anyway, My Mom and Dad are riding back from a party, and they’re on the highway, and this redneck in a pick-up truck starts tailing them, and eventually he moves into the lane next to them, and slowly inches closer and closer until they flip the bike into a ditch off the side of the road. Now, I don’t know if my Father told me this story to warn me: If you look different be prepared for a fight, or it was just a bit of reminiscing. Either way, walking into Big Ben’s that day the story came back to me.

LIFE WON’T WAIT will be out August 2013, reserve a copy today: http://tiny.cc/rutyvw

Public Nuisance/Sin 34/DOA/TSOL
Devonshire Downs (later CSUN North Campus), Northridge, CA
Saturday, April 17, 1982
Admission $7.50
Time: 8:00 PM

I remember picking up the flyer for this show in March of 1982, at Moby Disc in Sherman Oaks. It was drawn by one of my favorite punk artists at the time: Shawn Kerri. I had been given old issues of Cartoons magazine sometime in the 1970′s, and I had always loved her artwork. I remember being told that she was living with another of my favorite artists: Marc Rude. If you recall his Battalion of the Saints EP cover, you remember it was some really hot art. Unfortunately, both Shawn and Marc passed away. Shawn passed away a bit before her 40th birthday from drugs. Marc died in 2002, reason given was failed health. She’s probably best known for her “Skank Man” for the Circle Jerks.

I asked my Mom if I could go to this show, originally, the answer was no, but with enough begging and pleading she agreed. I would work for the $7.50 admission; it wouldn’t be given to me. And I would have to go with a mature adult for supervision purposes, I’ll tell you why this was a mistake later. This adult was my Uncle Rick (see last column for more info). My Uncle was 4 years older than me, so by this time he was 20. Rick agreed to pick me up and drive me to the show. Rick pulls up at about 7:30 – 7:45 pm, I’m pacing — I want to be there on time, but Rick comes in says “Hi” to my Mom and Brother, and then reassures me that we won’t be late, that no one sets up on time.

By the time we arrive at Devonshire Downs it is a bit after 8:15 and Public Nuisance is already on. I can’t say I remember much of the set. I knew of this band. If I remember correctly they were from the eastern San Fernando Valley. And they were tight with John Macias and the guys from Circle One. But I can’t remember what they sounded like too much. When Rick and I walked in the place there must have been about 20 minutes of greetings in the back before we could get towards the stage, so by the time we were done handshaking and nodding to everyone, Public Nuisance was done. Five years later a group was formed in New York using the same name. A little update on John Macias, I just found this out a few months back: In 1991 John Macias ended up at the Santa Monica Pier, where he was preaching Christianity loudly to passersby’s. Eventually someone called the police. What was printed in the papers: that Macias started running, and knocked a security guard off the pier into the sand. When a police officer called out to Macias to stop, he turned and began walking toward the officer, allegedly with a jacket in his hand. The officer warned him again, then pulled his gun and fired eight times. Macias kept walking, then collapsed and died before the assembled tourists.

Next on the set list was Sin 34. I remember standing midway back in the crowd so I could actually listen and watch them without getting an elbow in the eye by some skate punk. Their line-up was Mike Glass on guitar, Phil Newman on bass, Julie Lanfeld on vocals, and Dave Markey on drums. I don’t remember any songs specifically, but I remember the vocals sounding a bit like Siouxsie and the Banshees, and the drums being a bit tribal, unlike the typical machine gun/rapid fire sound of the L.A. Punk sound of the time. All in all, they were OK. Right as their set was winding down my Uncle came up to me and asked if I could score him some speed as he was just getting off of a 12-hour shift from the theater. Mind you I had never done anything stronger than beer at this point, but he was my idol back then, and I quickly remembered a punk named Rob from school (Birmingham High School) that had stolen a couple of bags of his Mother’s diet pills and was selling them as speed. Rob was in a band with another punk from our school named Mike K. I used to draw their band flyers (I can’t remember the name, other than it was something political). Anyways, Rick buys a few pills from Rob, and I don’t think he felt a thing other than a diminished appetite. I was relieved.

The third band on that night was D.O.A. I had only seen their named mentioned in Flip Side, I knew nothing about them, other than they were a Vancouver-based band that set the crowd on fire. The second they started the slam-pit grew and grew until it took up half of the hall. Guys were jumping non-stop off of the stage, another guy I went to school with named Al kept going back and forth to the pit and coming back worse for the wear each time. I remember not being overly thrilled with their music, just feeling it was somewhat typical sounding. But they went on to perform 25 songs and did 5 encores, so what do I know? Their set was longer than TSOL’s — who was the headliner.

Finally, the group I had been waiting for TSOL! The line-up was Jack Grisham (or was it Alex) on vocals, Ron Emory on guitar, Todd Barnes on drums and Mike Roche on Bass. Barnes, the drummer for TSOL, also the drummer for the Vandals, died on December 6, 1999 of a brain aneurysm at the age of 34. From the minute they struck their first chord the place was jumping. They played material from their first EP (Posh Boy), and their Dance with Me LP (Frontier) and one or two cuts from their Weather Statues EP (Alternative Tentacles) which had not been released yet. TSOL had so many people on-stage that at one point the instruments got unplugged and wires were pulled. So, everything stopped for a minute until everything could be fixed. The highlight of the set was when Jack yelled out “Code Blue!” It was like a bomb went off in the place everybody was singing along and jumping.

“Don’t even cry if I shoot in their hair
Lying on the table she smiles and she stares.”

Looking back now it’s weird to think shortly after my 16th birthday I would be so happy singing along to an ode to necrophilia. It was a different time.

It seemed like, back then anyway, that much was always made of TSOL’s “Goth” look and/or image. Just like the song Code Blue, I always felt it was somewhat tongue-in-cheek. Behind it all was an incredible wall of sound. I saw them several times in the early 80’s, and each time was different, and improved.

I remember the walk out of there (the Devonshire Downs hall), and how most of the campus police were out in the parking lot, I’m sure just to make sure I was safe. All in all the show was very peaceful. If there were any fights, I don’t remember them.

On the way home I remember talking to my Uncle about a girl that had been digging on at me Columbus Junior High named Linda D. I had been hearing her name every where I went. She was dating some guy who was big time in the Hollywood punk scene, the whole hanging out at Oki-Dogs and so on. I hadn’t seen her since 1979-80. So I kind of had forgotten about her. But she was into the scene deep now. Anyways, I bumped into her a year later, in 1983, on a RTD (not MTA) bus and she had just broken up with this guy and was down in the dumps, but it was weird seeing her again. The punk scene back then was a definite feeling of camaraderie. If I was walking down the street, anyone who wasn’t into punk would scream stuff from their cars and occasionally throw things but if you were into punk too, and you would walk across the street and we’d talk about who we listened to, who we knew, and what shows were coming up. For all the media coverage on the” punk violence” I found it to be a very peaceful time.

LIFE WON’T WAIT will be out August 2013, reserve a copy today: http://tiny.cc/rutyvw

Top 10 Punks (That Weren’t Punks)

10. Eddie Little
Little was did a long running column for L.A. Weekly, and then wrote two very intense books, Another Day In Paradise, and Steel Toes. He was brutally honest about his life of crime, and the thing that ended up taking his life midway through his third book . . . his heroin addiction. In one of his columns he recounts time spent as a Mohawk wearing street punk.

9. Mickey Rourke
The director of 9 1/2 weeks once said of Mickey Rourke “I often think if he had died after Tasking Angel Heart, he would have been a legend on the scale of James Dean. Maybe he still will be.” Who else, but Rourke would’ve launched into a story about doing women in wrong end at an award show only weeks before possibly winning his first and only Oscar?

8. Steve McQueen
A big time movie star who in his later years chose to live in an airplane hanger with his woman, motorcycles, and rare cars. Always cool.

7. James Frey
His incredible book, A Million Little Pieces set the stage for the type of books people would write about when dealing with recovery, or addiction. His second book, My Friend Leonard recounts him and friends slam dancing at a Vandals show.

6. Charles Bukowski
What do you say about Bukowski? A man who gave up a suburban life to live on the streets, and be a drunk. Through this life he found cult-like fame, and vindication. He traveled the hard road, and yet made it . . . his way.

5. Hunter S. Thompson
George Plimpton once wrote a book called Shadow Box. In the book he talks about flying to Zaire to cover the Ali-Foreman fight. On the flight was Thompson. Once they landed Plimpton went to the stadium to cover the fight. Thompson went into the jungle to get mind-altering drugs from a local Witch Doctor.

4. J.D. Salinger
After a bit of controversy, Salinger disappeared for good. Every once in a while someone would leak information about the tremendous amount of writings he had locked away, that may never see the light of day.

3. James Dean
The actor lived however the hell he wanted to. Success came despite the way he lived.

2. Waylon Jennings
Hated the traditional Nashville way of doing things, he was often a “non-invitee” to country music award shows. On the eve of the original We Are The World recording, Stevie Wonder brought an Ethiopian with him, and explained to the all-star gathering that they were going to sing the first chorus in Ethiopian. Jennings walked out stating, “Ain’t no good ole boy ever sang in Ethiopian.”

1. Johnny Cash
At his debut at the Grand Ole Opry the man In Black in a stupor decided to destroy all the foot-lights in the place. It took many years, and many album sales before he was ever asked to return.

LIFE WON’T WAIT will be out August 2013, reserve a copy today: http://tiny.cc/rutyvw

The Hollow Points
The Black Spot
Producer: Duane Peters
Released: February 15, 2005
Disaster Records

Matty McKinney – Vocalist/guitarist
Ben Early- bassist
Ben Colley – drummer

1. Never Say Die (1:59)
2. The Sickness (4:17)
3. Hooks & Sink-Her (2:59)
4. Rope’s End (3:01)
5. Telltale American (3:26)
6. Bereaved (2:46)
7. The Black Spot (3:41)
8. The Hemingway Solution (3:40)
9. Sleaze of Seven Seas (2:43)
10. My Misfortune (2:40)
11. No Cure for Me (2:47)
12. The Sky Turned Black (3:11)
13. Charcoal Tears (3:02)
14. Pieces of Eight (2:38)

The Seattle-based Hollow Points left me wondering what they were before listening to them. With a name like Hollow Points, I thought they were a 1990’s hip-hop band. I had the album for about six months before putting it on. I finally get around to it, then the first song comes on, and . . . I hate the vocal. I turn it off, and don’t get around to listening for another month or so, same thing, not liking the first song, but track two is really good, sounds like a different singer, then track three sounds different from the other two, and so on. The singer really has quite a few sounds, but as the album goes on, they fall into that group — that listened to too much Social Distortion, and Rancid. Good, but not incredibly original.

The Hollow Points formed in 2002. Vocalist/guitarist Matty McKinney, bassist Ben Early, and drummer Ben Colley released the 2004 Annihilation EP through Dirtnap before signing with Duane Peters (of Duane Peters Gunfight, and professional skateboarder), and his Disaster label for their 2005 album, The Black Spot. In January 2006, they added second guitarist Will McCarthy.

Lyrically they’re more “politically” aware than the average band (with the exception of Bad Religion), sardonically pledging “allegiance to country exchange and foreign labor,” paying homage to Ernest Hemingway’s suicide. The use of the Spanish guitar, and maracas in Pieces of Eight, and My Misfortune really gives them an unusual “flare’.

Rating: ** * two out of three stars

The standout cuts are: The Sickness, and Hooks & Sink-Her.

If you can find it, buy it.

On to the story . . .

In November, or December of 2009, I was bored. I had been out of work for a little better than a year, and every job I land is a sit down at a desk for 8 to 9 days a day job. In order to support a family I take these jobs, but in the back of my mind I always saw myself doing something like the guys on American Chopper, or Monster Garage (minus the massive amounts of extramarital affairs). But I have no mechanical skills. I can change tires, and perform a shitty brake job. That’s pretty much my auto skills.

But back in the ‘70’s I was a skateboard whiz. With my Dad’s toolbox, I could change trucks, wheels, bearings, and strip grip tape in a matter of minutes. So, one morning I told my Wife I wanted to get tools to build skateboards. She was cool with it. She asked if I had any idea how to do this? Nope, not a clue. OK. In all actuality I saw what I wanted in my head, but not sure how to get the result.

My Wife bought me between $75.00, and $100.00 in gift cards for Home Depot.

So, I bought the following:

1. Ryobi 120 V 0.3 Amp Detail Sander
2. BLACK & DECKER 4.5A Variable Speed Jig Saw
3. BLACK & DECKER Smart Select 12v Drill
4. And lots of sand paper.

So, I got to work, and created a template (long piece of paper, half size) traced it onto the wood, flipped it, and traced to the other side. I hand drew, and painted six of them.

In January I bought wheels, and trucks (Independents) for the board I wanted to keep, and rode it. Shitty. I originally made the board 10 and ½ inched wide, and 32 or 33 inches long. It was like riding a fucking plank. So, back in the house, I created a new template, making the board 31 inches long, and 9 inches wide, and creating a curvature above the back wheels, making the board in a gold fish shape (almost).

I put the board back together, and the ride was perfect. I had a local shop do the grip tape, and assembly. I’ve been riding every night since January. I’m not quite ready for a skate park, but a lot of the feel has come back.

After I built the initial six, I immediately had people put dibs on all of them, but one. So, seeing that these would be moderately popular, I created a site to hawk them. For the hand-made boards I charge $20.00 each (Essington Skates), and soon afterwards I created three boards that will be mass-produced (Zazzle Store).

I like the look of the mass-produced boards, but there is something to be said for working on something with your hands, the cutting, measuring, sanding, and drilling (no, I’m not talking about a porn movie I did). There is a feeling of accomplishment that you can’t get from sitting at a desk nine to five.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out, order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330

Reflections of a Punk Rocker’s Wife

I hit the sack last night at about 11:00, 11:30. I’m flipping through the latest issue of Razorcake, when I see my Wife dash past the door to our bedroom, and head towards the office. No big deal, right? But she was smiling; she was up to no good! This morning she emailed me the following article, hope you like it. – Mike E.

I am not a punk rocker. Never was. In fact, I was a Duran Duran fan. Complete with the faux mullet and twist/rolled pants. We were called New Romantics. You probably knew us. You surely would see us walking around with our Fedoras and guys in make up and sneer the same sneer we mirrored back at you.

I remember watching the punk rockers walk around all dark and brooding and wishing I could be as complicated and mysterious. All I ever wanted at the time was to see Simon LeBon and watch him fall under my spell. I remember this one boy in particular. I used to watch him on the bus on the way to school every morning. He had the Anarchy symbol and Black Flag doodled all over his notebook. My friends used to speculate on his home life and sensationally exaggerated his extra curricular activities. For goodness sake, he had SAFETY PINS all over his clothes!!! He must be a rebel. Therefore, dangerous. Therefore a subject of much infamy and the secret fantasy of every girl I knew. I used to think he was secretly in love with me and would one day show up outside my house on some crazy dangerous motorcycle and we’d drive off to some wild adventure. He never did. And I only secretly wished for a life of drama and abandon. Instead I did what I was supposed to do. I was a good girl. Rebelled mildly, grew up, got married and had a child. I don’t know what ever became of him. He might be some IT geek now with the only holes in clothes being buttonholes. But I would like to think he is still out there on his motorcycle making girls mentally fan themselves while saying what is expected; “He’s a punk.”

These days, as I drive my son to kindergarten and watch him in the rearview mirror pump his little fists while singing along with his new favorite song by Rancid “Disconnected!” I think to myself, “I finally got to fall in love with a punk rocker.” – Elizabeth E.