OK, growing up on the West Coast, we got lucky with the plethora of monster gigs that came our way.
Specifically when they were SST Records-related and usually featured Black Flag and their cohorts at mammoth places like the Santa Monica Civic, Hollywood Palladium, Devonshire Downs and the Olympic Auditorium. These were events, man, gigs you knew were special then, but had no idea you'd still be talking about them 30 years down the line.
This is one of those times.
In late February, early March of 1985, five little bands by the names of Husker Du, Minutemen, Meat Puppets, Saccharine Trust and SWA embarked on "The Tour," which took them to the Keystone in Palo Alto, the Stone in San Francisco, the UCLA Ackerman Grand Ballroom in LA and the Rock Palace in San Diego (this show is also listed as happening at Carpenters Hall).
I attended both the UCLA and San Diego shows, and Cat and her friends invaded the UCLA gig, her future alma mater. This was before Cat and I knew each other (we went to the same high school-- we knew of each other, but had never talked). I witnessed her and her friends ride around on some wheeled speakers and mess with the soundboard after the show. No one seemed to mind.
Both shows were stellar.
Unfortunately, the UCLA one was marred by some jackass throwing a bottle at the stage during the Huskers' set and plucking Grant Hart. The Husker drummer was singing at the time and stopped his double duties, stood up and yelled that whoever threw the bottle was a coward. It was a tense moment and the Huskers didn't finish their full set that night.
March 2, 1985, UCLA
Next day, I drove to San Diego with SWA drummer Greg Cameron and guitarist Richard Ford. I spent the drive reading my accounting textbook, since I had a test the next day, Monday, at El Camino College. I didn't get much studying done, however, since I was stoked for another gig and meet-up with my friend Sean Flanagan, a UC-San Diego student who'd be attending the show with us, along with other buddy, Chris Knight. (A shout-out to Sean for posting the SD flier on Facebook and sparking this entry.)
Great evening all around, and this time no stupidity from anyone thowing things from the crowd.
Mike Watt was all smiles as he sported a handmade cardboard sign duct-taped to his head during the Minutemen's set. It probably said something about "econo."
I also was reacquainted with Battalion of Saints buddies, Chris Smith and George Anthony, who spotted me in the crowd and we chatted for a while about speed metal and life. It was the last time I saw Smith, who passed away soon after. (Tie-in alert: The only time I saw the BAT'S play in SD was July 9, 1982; it was also the first time I saw Husker Du.)
Following the '85 gig, I spoke with old friend Bob Mould for a bit and mentioned that "Makes No Sense at All" was a great new song... he answered, "Yeah, that's the one."
And now part three of the 2012 TSHIT Olympics---the parts 1 & 2 being the stage dives and stage jumps on the prior entries-- We cannot leave out the banging of the heads, one of the most revered of the neck exercises.
Skelator
The first Gold medal goes to a last-minute contender, just from last night at the Hillbilly Headbangers Ball at Slim's Last Chance Saloon (which has the best chili that I have ever had BTW) in Seattle. From the band Skelator, we have guitar player Rob Steinway (above). As the singer raised the Skelator flag (literally) and sang of travelling far and away to get to a metal show, Steinway's hair flew its own long-range distance.
Black Breath
Black Breath
Medal #2 goes to a TSHIT favorite, Black Breath guitar and bass players, Mark Palm and Elijah Nelson. From a show at The Comet in February. I had to work for it at this show including getting on a chair near the pit, falling off the chair into the pit, getting back up and shooting from the pit. This show also included the lead singer getting knocked out as he rocked out and Andy getting binged in the head by a quarter.
Red Fang
Red Fang
Number 3 is awarded to Red Fang guitarist Byan Giles. Speaking of travelling distances for bands, this was from a show in Portland at the Hawthorne Theater from May. Okay, it's not that far, but still counts as trekking it. There were many photos of Giles to choose from, but you get the general idea.
Orange Goblin
Orange Goblin
The fourth medal is for Orange Goblin's bassist Martyn Millard when they played at Studio Seven in Seattle last summer. Yes, it's not from this year, but the way that Millard flies his locks about makes it look like he has his own personal wind machine on full force. Even when we saw them prior to this show at the 2011 Maryland Deathfest-- when it was 90+ degrees and the humidity, oh the humidity-- his hair still aviated away perfectly. This one does count as travelling a long distance also for a metal show.
COC
COC
Finally, have to give the last Gold to Woodroe Weatherman of Corrosion of Conformity. I know drummer Reed Mullin may be the obvious choice for the hair in the air, but even though Woody has shorter hair at this time, he makes it take flight as far as it will go.
Well, this wraps up the TSHIT Music Olympics for 2012. As we look forward to the next four years of shows and all the musical athletes banging away --- all we can say is, "Stay gold, Ponyboy!"
Iconic stage diver with Wasted Youth sticker. (Ed Colver photo)
By Andy
As the 2012 Olympic Games roll on in London, today we'll take a look at Gold-medal stage dives in punk-rock history.
Some require finesse, guts or just the right amount of booze to nail it.
I launched into a pair of stage dives in my formative Hollywood punk days in the early 1980s: Once at a Red Cross show at the Whisky A Go Go (I grazed someone's arm and fell flat on my back, ouch!) and another while 999 played at Florentine Gardens (I was caught this time, and crowd surfed while someone tried to pull one of my shoes off).
About a decade ago, I achieved a mini-dive off the small stage at the Crocodile in Seattle at a Chixdiggit gig --- that one wasn't so impressive as I landed on my feet and was told by a security guy to leave the room (I knew it was one of the band's last songs, so that's why I went for it).
So here's our top 5:
Wasted Youth sticker guy
This iconic shot (above) caught this dude in full-on glory at a Stiff Little Fingers, DOA, Adolescents gig at Perkins Palace in Pasadena on July 4, 1981. I'm in the crowd somewhere, maybe off to the side since I was a bit reticent to get up too close to the raging pit in those days. This picture appears on the back cover of Wasted Youth's "Reagan's In" LP.
HR and the Bad Brains. (SST Records promo photo)
HR
HR of the Bad Brains was revered for his backflips, but it's clear that the man could stage dive like a mo-fo, as well. This shot is from the "I Against I" promo poster, one of which I bought from Eugene Robinson of Oxbow/Whipping Boy at his Palo Alto shop in the late 1980s. At a Roxy show in Hollywood, HR dove right on top of me -- now confident to grace the front row -- and I helped catch him and send him back on stage to finish the song.
DYS -- diver top center. (Bruce Rhodes photo)
DYS
Yes, that's singer Dave Smalley on the left and Andy Strachan on guitar in the original lineup of Boston's DYS (Department of Youth Services). Just who the masked man flying through the air in the center is.... who knows? This is from the the back of the band's "Brotherhood" LP. I never saw the band live, but Strachan played some DYS songs on my Sears guitar when he visited my Redondo Beach home while on tour with SSD in 1983.
Black Flag with Dez singing. (LA Times photo)
Black Flag
This awesome pic and stage dive is from an LA Times story on the Black Flag, Adolescents, DOA, Minutemen massive gig in the summer of 1981 at the Santa Monica Civic. I was standing on stage far left with my brother, just behind Flag's Chuck Dukowski (you can't see us in the pic, but we were loving every second of that experience.) One of my earliest and favorite gigs ever.
Iggy! (Tom Copi/Getty Images)
Iggy and the Stooges
OK, I don't have a personal story to go along with this one, but it's just too good to pass up. It's not even a stage dive, but who cares? Iggy doing the Jesus walking-on-water thing in Cincinnati in 1970, the peanut-butter-smearing incident ... all that good stuff. As the band played "TV Eye," this gig was broadcast on the tube. So cool to look at.
While athletes are doing their thing in jolly old England at the 2012 Olympic Games, we've decided to put some high-flying musicians up on the podium in the Gold-medal spot. This is just a random selection done by jogging the memory of classic shots we've seen over time. Enjoy.
Greg Norton, Husker Du
Was there ever a better jumper on stage back when the Huskers ruled the day? I saw them live about a dozen times, and Norton and company never disappointed. I didn't attend the above show in Los Angeles at the Variety Arts Center in 1987 because I wasn't ready to see the band in such a big venue, since I'd witnessed them up close so many times. My loss, because they broke up soon after.
Dave Gregg of DOA. (Alison S. Braun/CORBIS photo)
Dave Gregg, DOA
This guy was one of the wild ones, and DOA was also tough to match back in the day. Gregg and the Vancouver gang cranked it up at the Olympic Auditorium in LA, where this photo was taken, alongside Black Flag, 45 Grave, Husker Du, Descendents and UXB in 1982. Yes, all those bands played on the same night --- killer.
Chi Pig of SNFU. (Courtesy photo)
Chi Pig, SNFU
Hair flying, legs and arms flailing and nearly jumping through the ceiling: That's SNFU's Chi Pig. I saw them twice in 1987, and I wish I'd seen them more. After one gig at a roller rink in Oxnard, I played some hockey with the SNFU guys, but the game ended prematurely after one of them cracked a shot through a window.
Our friend Ron's band, The Shivering Denizens, play "She's Not on the Menu" honky-tonk-style in Seattle these days.
Al "Lethal" Barile of SSD, with Springa and Jaime. (Bruce Rhodes photo)
Al "Lethal" Barile, SSD
Another one of those springboard kind of guys whom we'd seen lifting his guitar and body all over the stage in pics from their Boston shows. When they finally made it to LA in 1983, SSD ripped through songs off their first two records and a few "How We Rock" blasts at the Sun Valley Sportsmen's Hall. We were stoked.
DLR. (Rob Verhorst/Redferns photo)
David Lee Roth, Van Halen
OK, had to put this guy in there, and I'm sure many people would agree that he was the King of Jumps on the big rock scene back in the day. He even impressed my dad when we attended the Califfornia World Music Festival in 1979 and watched VH "Light up the Sky" one Sunday evening. I had quite a story to tell my seventh-grade classmates the next day.
[As I rummaged through some boxes in the garage recently, I found an old letter that I gave to one of my high-school administrators regarding a talent-show debacle. Initially, I didn't want to run this, because it's long-ago, high-school stuff, you know? The reason why I'm offering up this story is because I feel there's some things in here that we can all relate to on a daily basis. A short intro sets the scene.]
By Andy
It was our time to shine, rock, shred, rage -- you get the picture.
But we were denied by our high-school administration to participate in the senior "talent show" in 1984 in Torrance, Calif.
Greg, John, Phil and myself practiced hard for a few weeks to master our tunes: an original, "How We Rock," and our revved-up take on "Louie Louie."
We sweated it out in the SST practice space on Artesia Boulevard in Redondo Beach, the same spot where Black Flag, SWA and, later, the Descendents rehearsed. We were ready.
(We even had a name, Minas Tirith, since we had been reading J.R.R. Tolkien's "Return of the King" in class. It was a killer band name, of course.)
On "tryout" day, we packed some of the Flag PA into my dad's truck and drove over to the school. We didn't even make it in the door, we were banned. (We had already been told we couldn't play, but we showed up anyway -- just to show we were serious about our craft.)
Greg did loan his snare drum to some of our buddies doing a Van Halen "act," and he made sure to crack that drum hard before he exited the building.
We weren't included in the show because one of our members -- Phil -- didn't attend the school. True, but in the past, other bands (yes, punk/rock, like us; see previous entry) featured members not enrolled there, either. Not fair.
Anyway, here's the letter:
"I would just like to say that we are deeply upset with your judgement concerning acts to participate in the Talent Show.
It would appear that your understanding and fairness were not present during our meeting. In our school, and in today's society, open-mindedness and fair judgement are placed very highly in our set of values -- and it would seem that both of these (among others) were neglected all together.
First of all, when rules are cited to be linked with a certain function -- they should usually be stated from the start (not two weeks later -- after everyone had already begun rehearsal). I know what your rebuttal is, though, but there have always been participants from other schools in this show year after year -- and it would seem not to be as major of a deal as you have made it.
Another thing which really hit me hard was when you laughed in our faces when we stated that we've been looking forward to this event for 4 years. Haven't you ever had dreams or goals that really meant a lot to you -- that you wanted to accomplish? This was one of ours, and I feel that we have been deprived of this in a very "cheap" way.
But the real question is -- are you using the "non-school participant" as the actual reason for not letting us perform?
I have pieced this situation together very carefully, and have come to a conclusion. Is it that you don't particularly like us, or perhaps the music we were going to perform?
For your information, our act had originality in it. It wasn't a remake of a TV show or a pantomime of a popular song. It was us -- and I think that is most important in a "talent show." Who has the real talent? What is real talent?
[Editor's note: Yes, we were covering "Louie Louie," but we weren't lip-syncing it.]
In closing, I feel that the people we associate with or the music we listen to or play is no way to decide if we should perform or not.
If this is how you came to your conclusion, I think that it is very atrocious, ludicrous and a travesty to the BMHS or any other type of justice system."
A familiar situation: cop vs. punk. Courtesy photo from funny-people-world.blogspot.com.
By Andy
Back in 1983, a band of high-schoolers, The Boys Club, tore up the local party circuit, playing punk and new-wave cover tunes. (They even played the Our Lady of Guadalupe school hall in Hermosa Beach, Calif., once; a flier for the gig had a drawing of a guy with a pink Mohawk on it, but the band's name was misspelled as The Boix Club.)
Led by vocalist Jim Lindberg of Pennywise and Black Pacific fame, the band also featured my buddy Mike Filce on guitar, among others. I once sang part of the Misfits' "We Are 138" with them at a school talent show in Torrance.
Anyway, one evening, the band played a house party in Hermosa. During their second set, the cops crashed the rager, everyone was booted and a scuffle broke out between some partygoers and the fuzz.
Here's some lyrics I wrote back then about the incident:
"Cops in the Pool"
Men in blue -- got nothing to do
They don't wanna get bored -- so they hassle some youth
Gig that is chosen -- is raging something cool
We feel we're getting screwed -- cops in the pool!
The band is blasting -- piercing leads, plus more
Ears are buzzing -- spewing blood on the floor
Really happening party -- if you're not there, you're a fool
Cops show up -- fuckin' throw 'em in the pool!
[The cops never hit the water, but it was fun imagining it.]
Lindberg, left, and Filce, right, with the band at the school talent show. (BMHS yearbook photo)
"Who are these guys?" I asked myself. Not just once or twice, but three times over the course of a two-year period from 1987-89.
First, they were called Frontline. An energetic, punk-metal outfit from San Jose, Calif., opening for Corrosion of Conformity at the Farm in San Francisco.
Then, as Lifeline (they had to change their name because another Frontline claimed rights to the moniker), I saw them open for Stiff Little Fingers and the Ramones at the Variety Arts Center and Roxy, respectively, in Los Angeles.
Then came the topper.
One afternoon, as I walked into the San Jose law office I was messengering for, there sat new courier Joe Sib -- Lifeline's singer.
"It's him," I said to myself. He looked up at me, commended me for wearing an SSD T-shirt and asked, "What's up?"
I told Sib I had seen his band open again and again for some of my favorite groups, and he quipped, "Does that bum you out?" I replied: "Not at all," since I dug their tunes.
Thus began a several-year friendship between the band and I. We hung out, I roadied for them a few times and wrote the following story for their press pack.
From left to right, Bill Fraenza, Joe Sib, Dave Conrad and Kevin Morrissey. (Photo by Paulette Denis-Rees)
LIFELINE
For some bands, playing music is a hobby. Simply an excuse to waste away the grueling hours faced each day. For San Jose's Lifeline, being in a band is a way of life.
"The band is our lifeline," says sharp-tongued singer Joe Sib. "Without this, we wouldn't be happy."
Formed in 1984 under the moniker Frontline, the band has come a long way and are finally starting to make some noise.
The name change was crucial in establishing its current musical standing. While Frontline, the band jarred Bay Area audiences with an energetic punk-rock attack. The band has since cleaned up and tightened its sound into a pounding, and often melodic, hardcore-rock-n'-roll style, reminiscent of early Clash and DOA.
"We grew from Frontline to Lifeline," says Sib. "But in my eyes, we've just begun."
Also consisting of guitarist Bill Fraenza, bassist Kevin Morrissey and drummer Dave Conrad, Lifeline is intent at taking its music as far as possible.
"The four of us have always known that this is what we want to do," says Sib. "No one in this band would ever quit."
Quite a strong statement from someone deeply caught up in the ever-changing world that is the music business. However, one member of Lifeline gives ample evidence as to why his involvement with the band is permanent.
"Playing live is everything," says the soft-spoken Morrissey.
Imagine this: A stocky lad, arms flailing, hair flying -- set behind his drum kit. A virtuoso guitarist and bassist flanking stage right and left. A manic frontman jumping every which way, while giving his vocal chords a serious workout. And lastly, most important, the crowd with fists raised -- shouting out lyrics as if they personally wrote them.
This is Lifeline in its most comfortable and meaningful setting.
And whether the band is rocking to thousands (as shown in its opening slots for the Ramones, Stiff Little Fingers, Danzig and Jane's Addiction) or just a few friends, one can bet on having their ear drums assaulted to the hilt each time.
"'That Feeling Inside' is my song to the crowd," says Sib. "It's like giving back something -- basically, we'll get you off for the money you paid to see us."
That process of returning the favor is often reversed at Lifeline shows, especially in San Jose.
The crowd can usually be seen thrashing about and piling onto the stage as soon as Fraenza lets that first chord wail.
"Playing in San Jose is my nightmare," says Sib, while shaking his head. "I get really nervous -- but when we start, and the crowd's into it, it's great."
"Or even if they're just smiling," adds Morrissey.
While the live atmosphere is necessary to Lifeline's existence, things behind the scenes are just as vital. The way songs are generated is especially unique.
"If a song isn't written or completed in one night, it's aced," says Fraenza.
Sib further states that if the feeling isn't in the song when first played, it most likely won't be a mainstay in the Lifeline repertoire.
That sense of spontaneity is also evident when the singer is faced with writing lyrics.
"I don't force it," says Sib. "I wait for an idea to hit -- something has to happen to me."
Some of the most important songs on Lifeline's new releases are "Nothing to Lose," "Words to Live By," "Forgotten Friend" and "My Secret."
Sib went into detail on the first two:
"'Nothing to Lose' is about the band. It's my story of playing music. We've got nothing to lose when we go out and play a show. I like what I'm doing, and there's a couple that like it -- these are my friends or just people there. So let's go balls out."
"'Words to Live By' is what I feel about certain things. Why I do certain things. Sometimes, I get bummed about things I did, but it's done. I've listened to so many bands, writers and laws. I've learned to live for now."
Although Sib is outspoken on Lifeline's lyrical and philosophical stance, the rest of the band have a great amount of input, also.
"We're trying to get the music that we like out there," says Conrad. "Instead of always having to compromise and listen to stuff we don't like."
However, the main thing for Lifeline is to get out on the road and play to some people. But it knows from experience that touring in a crowded van with barely enough gas money isn't always the best of times. Despite this, the boys manage to get by.
"Our motto is, 'When it's shitty -- we'll still have a good time at it,'" says Sib.
