Symbol Six, Piss ‘N Blood, White Flag Down, Clepto, No Victor
On The Rox, Hollywood, CA
Thursday, January 5, 2011
Admission $5.00
Time: 9:00 PM

So, I snuck out on a Thursday night. I’m pretty much a fuddy-duddy, I’ve only done weeknight shows four or five times in my life. And I notice the older I get the harder it is to get my shit together the next day.

Anyway, I heard there was going to be a fairly big show at the club above the Roxy called On The Rox on Sunset Boulevard. I haven’t been to this place in about twenty years. One night I went with some of the members of 13th Love, a roadie for Guns ‘N Roses and spent some time chatting with Vince Neil’s wife Sharice (don’t ask).

When I heard there was going to be a punk show here how could I say no? The only downside is the parking. I couldn’t find anything under $10.00, but what are you going to do, refuse?

By the time I parked, got to the club, said a few “hellos,” and got to the door I had missed the first band No Victor. So . . . I review them, sorry.

I walk in and the second band, Clepto, has started. Not exactly my type of music, it seemed to be . . . just noise. But in their defense there were plenty of people that were completely into them, dancing, banging their heads or whatever you do.

Midway through the set, the guitarist or bassist yells to the crowd, “Bang your fucking heads,” wtf?! Sorry, but at this point they kind of lost me.

The second band that I got to see was White Flag Down. I don’t know how to describe their type of punk, other than it’s about my favorite kind. Some people prefer the kind of punk where it’s nothing, but screaming and the sound of a belt-sander on a chalkboard. The vocalist, Coop can sing and the band throws in a classic blast of punk with an occasional seventies metal riff snuck in here and there.

I was trying to describe their sound to a friend of mine, and I said they were a cross between Blitz and Rancid, which for me is a damn near perfect combination. They played my favorite song of theirs, Easy Is Her Name. Good solid band.

Finally around 11:00 or so Symbol Six hit the stage. This the second time I’ve seen Symbol Six with the addition of new guitarist Tony (from The Bell-Rays and The Black Widows).

The band was tighter than a gnat’s ass. People dancing (that’s right, dancing, not slamming), members of White Flag Down are onstage singing along on the mike. Symbol Six has a new EP coming out soon on Suicide Kings Records, and the new tracks were getting great reactions.

By the time they got off stage, I was dead on my feet. I was The Walking Dead. So, I skated my ass out of there.

All in all, a great show.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: A discount code was added, when you order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330 type in FGACJX53 and receive 10% off.

My Top 10 Bassists

Number 10
Evan Shanks

Evan took over bass duties from bassist Donny Brook (Symbol Six), and has been kicking ass up and down the West Coast. With a new EP ready to drop you can check him out first hand.

Number 9
Jean Beauvoir

Most people only knew him as the black dude with the white Mohawk from The Plasmatics. He also played in Steve Van Zandt’s band, and wrote and produced for The Ramones, Kiss and many others, as well as a truckload of sound track work.

Number 8
Flea

From his early days with Fear to his current Chili Pepper status, Flea has always been a strong supporter of the “scene.” I remember seeing him pop up at all the old L.A. shows.

Number 7
Mike Watt

On some people’s list Mike would be at number one. His ex-wife Kyra would be at two. Though I not a huge fan of his musical output, I can’t deny his talent.

Number 6
Paul Simonon

What would the Clash be without Paul’s solid playing?

Number 5
Chuck Dukowski

What I always dug about Chuck D’s playing was it seemed like he played lead guitar on the bass, not a typical rhythm section. He was damn good.

Number 4
Mike Roche

From his hardcore playing on the early TSOL EP to his Death Rock playing, Roche’s bass work was always on the money.

Number 3
Glen Matlock

Even if you’re not a fan, you can’t dismiss the songs he wrote, all classics. From what I hear there was a problem with all his feet washing.

Number 2
Lemmy Kilmister

Next to Geezer Butler, nobody played a more punk style in the “heavy metal” world. The only minus in Lemmy’s career was his duet with Wendy O. Williams.

Number 1
Dee Dee Ramone

What can you say about Dee Dee? He set the standard for punk bass playing.

Honorable mentions: Jay Bentley, and Donny Brook.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: A discount code was added, when you order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330 type in FGACJX53 and receive 10% off.художник на икони

Dropkick Murphys
The Warrior’s Code
Label: Hellcat Records
Released: June 21, 2005

Al Barr – lead vocals
Ken Casey – bass guitar, lead vocals
Matt Kelly – drums, bodhran, vocals
James Lynch – guitar, vocals
Josh “Scruffy” Wallace – bagpipes, tin whistle
Tim Brennan – guitar, mandolin accordion, vocals
Jeff DaRosa – acoustic guitar, banjo, bouzouki, keyboard, mandolin, whistle, organ, vocals

1. Your Spirit’s Alive – 2:21
2. The Warrior’s Code – 2:30
3. Captain Kelly’s Kitchen (Courtin’ in the Kitchen traditional) – 2:48
4. The Walking Dead – 2:07
5. Sunshine Highway – 3:22
6. Wicked Sensitive Crew – 2:59
7. The Burden – 2:55
8. Citizen C.I.A. – 1:28
9. The Green Fields of France (Eric Bogle cover) – 4:46
10. Take It and Run – 2:44
11. I’m Shipping Up to Boston (Lyrics by Woody Guthrie) – 2:34
12. The Auld Triangle (Brendan Behan cover) – 2:41
13. Last Letter Home – 3:32
14. Tessie” (Bonus track) – 4:15

I like these guys more and more as time goes by.

I’m Shipping Up to Boston is a good solid track, and Wicked Sensitive Crew is pretty humorous.

A good listen.

If you get the chance give this album a listen, it’s a good listen.

Rating: ** * two out of three stars

On with the story . . .

PART FOUR

My father-in-law comes in shortly before 9:00. We talk a bit, he asks if I saw last night’s Lakers game? I say, “No.” He says, “Oh man, that Kobe was on fire. That damn Jackson almost ruined the game.” He is funny how worked up he can get over the Lakers.

9:55 am they come for me with a wheel chair. Wheel me through a few halls, left turn, right turn, and we get to the test room. The nurse hooks me up to an EKG machine. It’s kind of cool, it reminds me of the opening sequence of The Six Million Dollar Man, Steve Austin (a man barely alive), is hooked up to an EKG, while on a treadmill running sixty miles per hour. Me on the other hand am going nowhere near sixty, but feel barely alive.

The doctor comes in and starts looking over this long train-like roll of paper and says, “Either we stopped your heart attack or you didn’t have one.” Ummm . . . OK.

So, I ask, “What about my two days of chest pains.”
“I don’t think it was a heart attack.”
“Fine, what was it?”
“Could be acid reflux.”
“Would that strike two nights in a row, double me over? I’ve never had those pains before or since.”
“Um, possible.” Then he leaves.

A nurse wheels me back to my room. My father-in-law is mumbling, “Man, that doesn’t make any sense at all.”

I get back into bed, and hang out and wait for my bland lunch. A nurse comes in and tells me that, “Since you didn’t suffer a heart attack, we will keep you one more night for observation, then you will be discharged at 9:00 am tomorrow morning.” She starts to walk away, and I ask her, “Does anyone have an idea of what’s wrong with me?” She turns back around, looks at her clipboard and says, “The doctor feels it’s probably acid reflux.” This irritates me, and I say, “Is anyone going to test for this or am I going to discharged based on a stupid guess.” She looks startled, “Well, if you have any symptoms before you are discharged the doctor on call will prescribe something for you.”

I go to sleep that night and try to figure out what the hell happened? I was stressed from work, but no more stressed than normal. Maybe it was those Billy Mays commercials.

Next morning my wife is my room ready to take me home. I miss my son something terrible. For a guy that was on his way to croak, I was surprised at how few people came by or called. Oh well.

I take the rest of the week off of work. Rest and try to get my bearings. Then one day about a month after my three-day stint at Northridge’s finest, I say to my wife “Both nights of my chest pains I had taken one dissolving Melatonin tablet.” I had never taken this type of Melatonin before. We kind of look at each other and shrug.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: A discount code was added, when you order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330 type in FGACJX53 and receive 10% off.

My Top 10 Pre-Punk Albums

Number 10
The Who – Who Are You

This album came out in 1978; I think I got it at that time. Pete Townshend said He wrote this album to bridge the gap between progressive rock and punk. The song I continually played was 905, a song written and sang by bassist John Entwistle. It was about a man who was cloned in a lab, and struggling with not having his own life. I think I identified with the feeling of isolation, I was 12, and what did I know?

Number 9
Billy Idol – Don’t Stop EP

This was a great pop album made by one of England’s original punks. I loved the song The Untouchables. I just listened to it last week for the first time in 20 years.

Number 8
Surf Punks – My Beach

I’m not sure why I bought this; maybe it had the word “punk” in it. I listened to it last week, and, sadly, it blows donkey dong. I vaguely remember liking it.

Number 7
Human Hands – Trains vs. Planes

I met David Wiley at Moby Disc in Sherman Oaks when I was a kid, and he was always real cool to me, so I became a fan. Saw them open for Romeo Void at the Country Club in Reseda. And Wiley came by and talked to my dad and me for a while. Good single.

Number 6
Secret Affair – Glory Boys

Again with The Country Club, my dad took me for my thirteenth birthday to see Edgar Winter (the albino keyboardist), but highlight was Secret Affair opening. I was probably one of five people who liked them. Actually, I loved them. The rest of the crowd yelled obscenities, and did the finger at these guys. I still play this album. Unlike the Jam, Secret Affair just played good, fun music. They weren’t trying to change the world.

Number 5
Joe Jackson – I’m the Man

Unfortunately, I never liked anything else he did after this. Lyrically, he reminded me a bit of Elvis Costello. A lot of fast tongue twisting phrasing. Tackling commercialism, extramarital affairs, and stuff I had not heard in songs prior to this. Still a pretty good album.

Number 4
Elvis Costello – My Aim Is True

I loved the energy and the attitude. I bought about five or six concert bootlegs of his at the old Capitol Records swap meets back in the late 70’s, early 80’s. His stuff was a perfect gateway to punk for me.

Number 3
Times Square – OST

This soundtrack (I never saw the movie) has everybody you want to hear as a young pre-punk: Suzi Quatro, The Pretenders, Roxy Music, Gary Numan, Marcy Levy & Robin Gibb, Robin Johnson & Trini Alvarado, The Ruts, D.L. Byron, Lou Reed, Desmond Child & Rouge, Talking Heads, Joe Jackson, XTC, The Ramones, Garland Jeffreys, The Cure, Patti Smith Group, and David Johansen.

Number 2
Devo – Be Stiff EP

This was an eye-opening experience for me. My Uncle Rick played this for my Brother and me when I was 12 and my Brother was 8. I loved it, and it seemed like most adults hated it. Just like when we discovered Kiss, it was ours.

Number 1
David Bowie – Diamond Dogs

Besides Rebel, Rebel being a great rock song, the opening lines of Future Legend was enough for me to dig this album for the last 34 years:

“And in the death
As the last few corpses lay rotting on the slimy thoroughfare
The shutters lifted in inches in Temperance Building
High on Poacher’s Hill
And red, mutant eyes gaze down on Hunger City
No more big wheels

Fleas the size of rats sucked on rats the size of cats
And ten thousand peoploids split into small tribes
Converting the highest of the sterile skyscrapers
Like packs of dogs assaulting the glass fronts of Love-Me Avenue
Ripping and rewrapping mink and shiny silver fox, now legwarmers
Family badge of sapphire and cracked emerald
Any day now
The Year of the Diamond Dogs

“This ain’t Rock’n’Roll
This is Genocide”

This written and recited in a real cool William Burroughs style; I still love the album.

These were the albums I had as I was starting to get into punk, my gateway crap. You have had the same albums, hell, you may hate them all – that’s OK, I hate some of them now.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: A discount code was added, when you order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330 type in FGACJX53 and receive 10% off.

Chinese Telephones & Dear Landlord
Split
July 9, 2007
It’s Alive Records

Dear Landlord
Adam- Bass/Vocals
Brad- Drums/Words
Brett- Vocals/Guitar
Zack- Vocals, Guitar

Chinese Telephones
Gorky-Drums
Daniel James-Guitar
Andy Junk-Bass/vocals
Justin Telephone-Guitar/vocals

1. Dear Landlord – Three To The Beach
2. Dear Landlord – I’m Not Sayin Get’er Done, But Don’t Just Stand There
3. Chinese Telephones – All Right
4. Chinese Telephones – Prescription Pills And Medical Bills

I bought this seven inch split some years back. The two Dear Landlord tracks are also featured on their album Dream Homes. I really dig Dear Landlord, but they rarely release anything new. They’ve popped up on numerous splits, and (maybe) a comp or two, but it seems like it’s always songs from their album.

Anyway, Dear Landlord’s tracks are great, and Chinese Telephones are OK too.

If you dont own it, give it a listen.

Rating: ** * two out of three stars

On with the story . . .

PART THREE

I fade in and out of sleep all night, and every time I come to there is this same fucking episode on VH1 called Remaking Vince Neil. He gets “sober,” gets a nose job, and tries to rebuild his career. Jesus. Then I’d nod off and my minorly retarded nurse would come banging into my room to draw blood. The shit that rumbles around your brain when you wake up like this, “Who could scream louder, Billy Mays or Vince Neil?”

Again the nurse starts digging around in my hands and arms, and again I yell, “Get somebody else.” She shuffles off with her head down. This time a husky white guy comes in, “Hey, what’s up big guy? I’m going to draw some blood from you, cool?” Oh yeah . . . cool as hell.

At around 8:00 am the next morning my father-in-law George walks in. I’m happy to see somebody that doesn’t want to poke me with needles or fill me with shit-inducing drugs.

He asks me about my diagnosis, and what I’ve heard from the doctors, I tell him “Nothing, I haven’t heard anything since being admitted.” He makes a face then scurries to the nurse station. He isn’t playing with these Pillsbury shaped broads. He wants to know what happened to me, when the doctor is coming, and when my tests are going to be performed, and when can I leave. They stutter and stammer and call this person and that. Finally, the head nurse comes into my room and explains that “the doctor will be here within an hours time, he is in the middle of a surgery.” I nod, and she continues, “And you are scheduled for a treadmill test for tomorrow at 10:00 am to determine whether you suffered from a heart attack, and if so how severe.” I nod again. She smiles back and asks if she can get me anything, I shake my head and say “No.” She leaves, and my father-in-law, shakes his head and says, “How long are they going to make lay here without telling you what’s wrong?” I have no idea.

They wheel in breakfast. Since I’m diabetic, the food is absolutely terrible. Oatmeal that is very mud-like in its texture, decaf coffee and a slice of toast, hell yeah I’m living it up!

My father-in-law pushes the tray away once I consume my feast. We watch the news and my father-in-law starts to tell how horrible of a coach Phil Jackson is, and how he just sits there and never calls a time-out when his team is doing bad, and how Kobe is the one coaching the damn team. I nod, fade, and nod again.

By mid-morning the doctor comes in shakes my IV plugged hand, and looks at my chart and basically repeats what the nurse in the morning told me “You are scheduled for a treadmill test for tomorrow at 10:00 am to determine whether you suffered from a heart attack, and if so how severe.” Again I nod; I’ve been doing a lot of this. The doctor quickly leaves.

My boss calls, “Hey Mike, Virgil here, how you doing young man?”
“Fair.”
“Well, that’s not good. Stop fooling around in that hospital, and come back to work, ha ha.”
“Will do.”
“All right, you get some rest, and call Sasha when you can, and let her know when you’re coming back.”
“Will do.”

My dad comes in just as George leaves. We hang out for a while, watch some TV, he checks his watch and says he’ll be back tomorrow for the treadmill test. I nod, and try to sleep before they turn me into a pincushion again.

I give more blood. My wife comes into the room, I ask about my boy. We hang out, I tell her about my visitors and the treadmill test and how they don’t know what’s wrong with me. Then we watch Vince Neil.

My dad shows up the next morning around 8:00 am, he hangs out for about forty-five minutes then gets agitated because he finds out my treadmill test isn’t until 10:00 am. For whatever reason, that’s what he wanted to be here for. He leaves.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: A discount code was added, when you order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330 type in FGACJX53 and receive 10% off.

Punk Attitude
2005 – IFC Pictures
Directed by: Don Letts

Jello Biafra
Bob Gruen
John Holmstrom
Chrissie Hynde
Jim Jarmusch
Darryl Jenifer
David Johansen
Mick Jones
Wayne Kramer
Glen Matlock
Legs McNeil
Thurston Moore
Tommy Ramone
Henry Rollins
Captain Sensible
Paul Simonon
Siouxsie Sioux
Pat Smear
Poly Styrene
Ari Up

Originally shown on IFC, which I missed, this was released on DVD soon afterward. This has become one of my favorite films.

The film begins showing the roots of punk music with many views on various artists and genres that accentuated the beginning of the genre, like the MC5 and the Velvet Underground. Punk: Attitude then proceeds chronologically to sort through the various artists and alumni who were central to the movement, drawing light on the general idea or “Attitude” of the punk movement, which spoke out for a generation. Bands such as The Ramones, The Stooges, The Clash and The Sex Pistols feature prominently throughout. The movie offers a canvas of praise and respect given from many interviewees as these bands are heralded commonly as the beginning of Punk progressively through the movie. Rare footage of concerts and personal accounts of gigs and band meetings highlight the aggression and destructive entities with surprising accuracy. The movie wraps up by emphasizing the influence that punk has on modern music.

If you get the chance to get a copy of this, it’s worth watching.

Rating: *** three out of three stars

On to the story . . .

Christmas barely past us, I started trying to remember my best holiday memory. I’d have to say my best was when I was three or four years old. How or why I still remember this I have no idea. My folks decided to take me to see Santa, but I was going through this, about, two-year freak-out when it came to costumes. I freaked every time I saw a clown or Santa or anything like that.

As soon as I came to terms with costumes, I saw the Talking Tina episode of the Twilight Zone. I was right after all; these damn toys can kill you.

Anyway, my folks pack me up and take me to my grandfather’s Carpentry Union for my visit with Santa. Mom and dad thought I would be jazzed to find that my grandfather was the Santa Claus for this occasion. Everything was cool until I saw Santa; I spun on my heels and ran a good two blocks before anyone realized I was gone. As I rounded the first corner I spotted a sign in front of a pizza joint, I don’t know what you call these signs – they look like upside down V’s. So, I tuck myself in between the boards and stay. I see feet running past me, and people yelling my name, but I stay hidden and silent for about twenty minutes. Santa, sorry fat man, you’ll to find another kid to kill – I got you figured out.

As time went by I kept hearing my dad calling for me, and I started getting nervous. Would he be happy once he found me, or would he be pissed that I put him through all this shit? So, I sheepishly came out and announced, “Here I am.” Now, my father, like his father, and me and my son was blessed with a fiery and sometimes insane temper. He was, in his own way happy to find me, but it was more like mumbling behind teeth that were gritting. He swoops me up, and explains that Santa is grandpa, that he was going to surprise me. I’m not convinced.

We get back to the Union Hall, wait in line and when we get to “Santa,” my grandpa pulls his beard down and says: “It’s me, Mikey!” I was blown away, how did Santa pull my grandpa into this madness? Grandpa gave me a candy cane, and we went on our way.

My grandpa passed away in 1991, he was a funny guy. He hated everyone except for my brother and me – and of course his wife, my wonderful grandmother.

Once he and my grandmother got too old to live alone they moved in with my aunt. Anyway, my brother and I come by for a visit one weekend and we come in through the backdoor, my grandfather doesn’t see us. Just as we’re coming into the living room where my grandpa is, our younger cousin Tommy (named after my father) walks up to my grandfather and asks if he would like some water, he’d get it for him. My grandfather, not missing a beat, starts swinging his cane and yells “Get out of my way you fat fuck!” My brother and I just look at each other and shake our heads. We walk into the living room and ask our grandfather if everything is OK in here. And he turns to us and says “Could you get me some water, they won’t do shit for me here?” For my British readers, my grandfather was a senior citizen version of Lenny McLean.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: A discount code was added, when you order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330 type in FGACJX53 and receive 10% off.

The Unforgiven
The Unforgiven
1986
Elektra Records

John Henry Jones aka Steve Jones (vocals, guitar)
Johnny Hickman (guitar, vocals)
Todd Ross (guitar)
Just Jones aka Mike (guitar)
Mike Finn (bass)
Alan Waddington (drums)

1. All Is Quiet On The Western Front
2. Hang ‘Em High
3. I Hear The Call
4. Roverpack
5. Cheyenne
6. The Gauntlet
7. With My Boots On
8. The Ghost Dance
9. The Loner
10. The Preacher
11. Grace

The Unforgiven was the band that Steve Jones, of The Stepmothers (not the Sex Pistols), put together after The Stepmothers disbanded.

Steve found a way to take all the pop sensibilities that The Stepmothers had and hone it. There is a definite Stepmothers feel in these songs. With a larger production budget (thanks to Elecktra Records), Jones and his band could record a much smoother sound. Jay Lansford (Posh Boy hall-of-fame musician) joined the band shortly after the albums release.

If you dont own it, give it a listen.

Rating: ** * two out of three stars

On with the story . . .

PART TWO

I’m sitting there, my eyes are watering, Billy Mays won’t shut the fuck up, and finally I realize that this pain isn’t stopping. I go thumping back into the walls, wake up my wife, and say, “Something is really wrong with me, I need you to call a doctor.” She immediately, flies out of bed, because she knows that unless I’m dying I won’t go to a doctor.

She calls the ER at Northridge Hospital, and she talks on the phone then asks me a question, then back on the phone, it’s determined that I need to be rushed to the hospital. The ER nurse feels that either I am in the middle of a heart attack or I had one.

I slowly put on a pair of pants, grab a sweatshirt, and my wife gets my little boy into something warm, and into his car seat.

We take off to my sister-in-law’s house so she can watch my boy while I try not to croak.

My sister-in-law meets us outside, takes my boy and within two blocks I’m at Northridge Hospital. They bring me in immediately, blood pressure, temperature, and then move me into an examination room, and then they inject me with morphine. What a fucked-up drug. I don’t know what it was supposed to do (well, actually I do. It was supposed to prevent any further heart attacks or stabilize the one I was having), but with me it just made my body feel like it had to vacant all at once.

So, I’m laid-out on this exam table/gurney and I tell my wife “I have to get up and hit the can.” Everybody freaks, telling me I cannot get up under any circumstances. So, I try telling her that if I don’t up, I’ll have a problem in my underwear. So, she explains to the nurse, and they bring me a weird looking silver bucket thing, and say, “Here, use this.”

This triggers something in my body, everything backs up and disappears. Morphine or not I will not use the bucket. I lie there and groan.

The doctor finally makes his way into the room, takes my vitals and asks where I hurt, and for how long . . . when did it start. Jesus, make the pain go away, then we can chat.

The doctor determines that I need to be admitted immediately. I tell my wife to head home, get my boy back in his crib safe and sound.

They pop me in a wheelchair; wheel me into the regular part of the hospital, away from the OD’s in the ER. Some plump middle-aged nurse undresses me and puts me in a gown. Ten minutes later another nurse rams an IV in my right hand and another in the big vein in my left arm. Fuck me in the goat ass.

Fifteen minutes after that, another middle-aged nurse, this one Hispanic, comes barreling through the door banging into everything in the room, and says she has to collect blood from me. And she will be back every three hours. Yay me!

So, my South of The Border nurse starts poking the needle into my hand, and then starts poking my arms, nothing. She can’t find a vein. I have huge veins; if my arm hangs at my side for a few minutes the veins bulge out like vascular McDonald’s straws. Finally, after five minutes of this I lose it, “For fuck’s sake, get somebody else.” She shuffles away, and gets a thirty-something Hispanic male nurse. He gives me the regular greetings, “How are you young man? We’ll get you better in no time.” He finds a vein, takes blood and vanishes in less than ten minutes.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: A discount code was added, when you order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330 type in FGACJX53 and receive 10% off.

Top 10 Punk Drummers

Number 10
Charlie Quintana

Charlie has been at this for a long-ass time; his time with the Plugz, Cruzados, and recently Social Distortion. Charlie’s style meshes with every band he sits in with.

Number 9
Topper Headon

Topper performed great drumming for the Clash; his heroin addiction got him booted from an otherwise flawless career with the band.

Number 8
Tommy Ramone

Innovator and guru to the Ramones. Tommy created the blueprint sound that the Ramones used for twenty plus years.

Number 7
Casey Royer

Whether Casey was drumming for Social Distortion or the Adolescents he has always been great. The “Blue” album stands the test of time.

Number 6
Phil George

Possibly the best overall drummer that is still playing. The guy can literally play any style of music, punk, rock, funk, and military beats. If you loved the Posh Boy EP, put on Symbol Six’s Monsters 11 album and study George’s playing, you’ll immediately fire your own drummer and curse his mom.

Number 5
Nicky Beat

One of the first L.A. punk drummers, Nicky brought the Weirdos to notoriety, and contributed to early Germs material as well as sitting in with the Darby Crash Band.

Number 4
Don Bolles

The oddball of the Germs (is that possible). Don played for the Germs, 45 Grave, and Vox Pop – which he posed nude for. Odd, but damn good.

Number 3
Paul Cook

From his punk defining work with the Sex Pistols or his slowed down stuff with the Professionals Paul Cook has always been one of the best, often overlooked, but freaking great!

Number 2
Robo

From his classic stuff with the mighty Black Flag to his drumming with the Misfits (with and without Danzig) Robo’s sound has always been very distinctive, one of my first favorite punk drummers.

Number 1
Todd Barnes

Todd Barnes played great hardcore on TSOL’s classic Posh Boy EP, and helped introduce L.A. to Death Rock with their ultra-classic Frontier released, Dance with Me! He could play it all, and well. I think he sat in on a Vandals reunion some years back.

Honorable Mentions: Marky Ramone, Terry Chimes, Bill Stevenson, DJ Bonebrake, Chris Wahl, etc.

These are my choices, I’m sticking to them. I know some will complain that I included two drummers that worked with Darby, well, maybe he picked great drummers.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: A discount code was added, when you order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330 type in FGACJX53 and receive 10% off.

Various Artists
This Is Our Culture
Label: A Dying Breed Records
Released: 2011

Bleach Battalion
Ressiduo
Youngblood
Armada Oi!
Spirit Of The Patriot
Combate 49
Sangre X Sangre
Fighting 84
Major Disappointment

1. Bleach Battalion – Hatred
2. Bleach Battalion – Loyalty
3. Ressiduo – Cabeza Rapada (Colombia)
4. Ressiduo – Nuestra Tierra (Colombia)
5. Youngblood – Fist City (After Hours Version)
6. Armada Oi! – Orgullo Skinhead (Peru)
7. Armada Oi! – Anos De Dolor (Peru)
8. Spirit Of The Patriot – Fuck It
9. Combate 49 – Flagburner
10. Combate 49 – Somos Patriotas
11. Sangre X Sangre – Mato Comunistas Por Diversion
12. Sangre X Sangre – Traicion A La Patria
13. Fighting 84 – Black Power
14. Fighting 84 – Class Rage
15. Fighting 84 – Love Handles
16. Major Disappointment – Tax Is Control
17. Major Disappointment – Working Poor

Brandon from Fighting 84 sent this my way. Fighting 84’s label, Dying Breed, put this out in late 2011, and it’s basically a compilation of current Oi worldwide.

So, if Oi is your thing track it down.

If you get the chance to get a copy of this, it’s worth a listen.

Rating: ** * two out of three stars

On to the story . . .

PART ONE

Somewhere around 2004, shortly after my son was born, I woke up one night feeling like an axe was being pounded into my chest. I got up, holding onto anything, leaning on the walls, grasping for the door-jams. Trying to get to the living room.

Why the living room? My thinking was if I’m going to groan, I don’t want to wake up my family. What a trooper I am.

I get to the living room, prop myself up in the corner of the couch, surrounded my pillows, turn on some infomercial, and sitting straight up I was able to tolerate the pain. And after an hour or so I went back to sleep.

Somewhere around 6:00 or so, I heard my infant son stirring in the bedroom, and I got up and headed to the shower. I get out of the shower and my wife asks me where I was last night? She turned over and I was MIA. I made light of it. I told her I didn’t fell well and couldn’t sleep, so I watched some TV.

I drove out to Valencia (where men are men and sheep are the victims), to go to work. Put in my full nine hours and felt pretty good.

Got home played with my son, walked out our Pomeranian, who suffered from acute halitosis, Poe. Ate dinner, watched a bit of TV with the wife, put the boy down to sleep, and vegged out for a bit.

Finally I hit the sack. I couldn’t have been asleep for than three maybe four hours when the invisible lumberjack and his axe, from the night before, returned. Only this time he brought a friendly construction worker along to drill deep into my chest, while the axe worked on my arms. I shot out of bed, hugging myself, as if I had to hold on to myself, these invisible pains, shooting from my heart to my arms, made me feel like my body was going to crumble, literally fall apart, unless I held on.

I banged, and bumped into every object on the way to the living room. Just like the night before, I had this instinctual need to flee the bed. Get up and bolt. I thought I could out run the pain.

I made it to the overstuffed couch. Shoved myself into the corner, again, surrounded by pillows, turned on the TV, and Billy Mays started shouting at me, pointing at me, and telling me how to get spots out.

I put my head back, closed my eyes, and tried very hard to concentrate on sleep. I used to do this weird visualization thing. I’d see myself floating on a lake or a river, floating on my back, and I would slowly start to sink deeper and deeper, and eventually I would be, almost, fish-like. I would swim a little, but mostly lie on the bottom of this river, I would be able to breath there, and the fish would pass by, but everything from the world above the water would be gone. I couldn’t see or hear anything.

So, with my head on the couch I’m trying to focus on water while my chest is being torn apart, I see water, then my concentration is broken and I see Billy Mays yelling at me “Act now, and we’ll double your order!” The pain now is shooting all the way to my fingertips.

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Number 10
Eric Leach

At a time when punk bands seem to rely solely on their back catalog, Leach and Symbol Six have bypassed the whole nostalgia circuit and perform almost a new and much harder set of songs. While most of their contemporaries have a wall of security around the stage or some kind of stainless-steel barricade, Leach is in the pit banging with the best of them.

Number 9
Darby Crash

Darby had charisma, but was always loaded. If he were sober, I would’ve bumped him up a notch or two.

Number 8
Lee Ving

Lee fits into that category of love or hate. The stage presence was definitely there. The whole insulting the crowd was a fairly new thing and Fear did it well.

Number 7
Mike Ness

Whether wrapped in toilet paper, or Alice Cooper make-up under his eyes, Mike has always given great performances.

Number 6
Mike Muir

I haven’t seen Suicidal since the early ‘80’s, so this is based on S.T.’s early days, and based on that Mike controlled his audience. Once they were announced a hundred or two “gang-members” would charge the pit. It was something.

Number 5
HR

Love him or hate him, HR is a madman on stage. The flips and acrobatics, crazy stuff.

Number 4
Glenn Danzig

If the voice (Jim Morrison meets Elvis) didn’t get you, the East Coast attitude with the “death-lock” hairdo was something to behold. The bodybuilding added to the Misfits overall appeal.

Number 3
Tony Cadena

Back in the early ‘80’s Tony never stayed still, whether he was flying into the audience, or rolling around on stage, he was a performer.

Number 2
Henry Rollins

Love him or hate him, over twenty-five years on and people can’t stop discussing him. He had great stage presence, and he is one of the most recognized “punks” in the world.

Number 1
Johnny Rotten

Nobody epitomized the angry punk the way Rotten did. The distain in his voice. He was the mold of a punk singer.

Honorable Mentions: Dave Vanian, Wattie, John Macias, etc.

Thanks to Jay Thurston for this idea. These are my choices; I’m sticking to them.

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