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.

Bad Religion – EP
Released: November 30, 1981
Label: Epitaph Records

Greg Graffin – Vocals
Brett Gurewitz – Guitar
Jay Bentley – Bass
Jay Zisktrout – Drums

01-Bad Religion
02-Politics
03-Sensory Overload
04-Slaves
05-Drastic Actions
06-World War III

I first heard Bad Religion played on Rodney on The ROQ in early December 1981. It was the title track Bad Religion. I was 15, three months from turning 16. Their sound was incredible to me. It had the power of Black Flag, but more polished, a tinge of TSOL. The vocals, handled by Greg Graffin, were raw but sounded more under control than early Black Flag (prior to Henry). The guitarist Brett Gurewitz was on fire. I was really impressed with lyrics, prior to Bad Religion I always felt lyrically, L.A. was a little bit behind British punk in its messages and statements (I say this after just listening to Black Flag’s Six Pack EP with my Brother for the first time in about 25 years). But Graffin, himself, only being 16 seemed to have a message and/or a point to make.

A day or two later I went to visit my Uncle at work. My Uncle, Rick White, was extremely famous in the early hardcore punk scene. He managed the Fallbrook Mann movie theater at the old Fallbrook Mall. He was known as the guy who wore a toupee to hide his Mohawk. Anyways, I show up and start to tell him of my new discovery, only to have him burst my bubble. It turns out he had been friends with a couple of the guys from school, Jay Ziskrout, and I believe Jay Bentley. A short while later he hung out with the guys from L.A.D.S (Los Angeles Death Squad) who seemed to be Bad Religions biggest followers.

After, all this information I went that weekend to Moby Disc and picked up the 6-song 7 inch EP (thanks to my Mom). I remembered the title track, as I had just heard it a few nights before . . . it was great, but the opening of Politics blew me away. The lyrics stayed in my head for years:

“Economy, technology, does it really work?
The guy running the government’s another jerk.
Try to teach some values and they all erode away.
You’re lucky if they listen to a single word you say.”

Granted they may not seem as deep now, but in 1981, the Regan era, it was. A 16 year-old, talking (yelling) to another 16-year-old, it was what I was looking for.

Tracks 4 and 6 were also powerful for me, but track 5 nailed it for me. The tempo changes (fast and slow) and the lyrics were completely relevant to us young punks at the time, though I lucked out and came from a stable home a lot of my friends were victims violent homes and/or drug and alcohol dependency so Drastic Actions was heavy for me:

“Heard a word, suicide,
Not from one, but from thousands that tried.
The lawyer’s wife and the teenage brat,
One thing in common, they all wanted out.
And it’s plain to see.
It goes for you and it goes for me,
And all the screwed up little girls and boys,
All thrown in without a choice.
But I heard him say,
“I want out,
No complaints and no doubts,
Just a chance to go on.”
I heard a word, suicide,
And not from one, but from thousands that died.
Want some attention and a little less regret,
A teenage fluff, little threat.
And there are those, there are those who think
That drastic actions will make them unique.
It’s really all the same,
That no one’s happy and nobody’s to blame.
And the moral to this story is old.
It’s quite taboo, seldom told.
The seed is reaped before it’s sown,
A bad choice was never resolved.”

This 7″ EP available through their online store, and can be found in it’s entirety on the Bad Religion re-release of How Could Hell Be Any Worse?” Crude and urgent, this is the sound that emanated from the garages of Southern California in the early ’80s. An additional note, I was always blown away by Jay Zisktrout’s drumming. If you listen to this, it’s equal parts drum and cymbal playing, crazy.

I apologize for any mistakes with my dates or names I may have mixed up; 29 years ago . . . some things slip away. Another footnote, my Uncle Rick passed away a three or four years back. He was in his early 40′s. Some may remember him for his scene in the Randy Newman video “I Love LA.” He and some other punks were jumping up, and down in front of Vinyl Fetish.

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

Shattered Faith/13 Scars/Plexikill/Unglued
The Redwood, Los Angeles, CA
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Admission $8.00
Time: 9:00 PM

About a year ago I started talking to Shawn Durand guitarist from 13 Scars. I’m not sure how we met. Somehow on Facebook, a friend of a friend introduced us. Anyway, he’s cool as hell and he wrote me about six months ago to say his band was going to be headed to California (from Washington) in April or May. More than likely they were going to play the Punk Rock Picnic and that I should come out. Shit. Not that I didn’t want to see them, but the thought of enduring a hundred bands was too much for me. So, more than likely I was going to flake.

Well, the Punk Rock Picnic was cancelled or moved or whatever, the point is 13 Scars redid their tour dates and one of the shows was with Shattered Faith, how could I not go?

I left the house somewhere between 8:00 and 8:30 to get to everybody’s favorite pirate bar, The Redwood. Right down the street from me they were filming a commercial, so I was stuck trying to get to the freeway for about 20 minutes. Then I get to the 101 and there’s an accident as I get to Hollywood another 30 minutes. Needless to say I’m late.

Once I get there I see Shawn in the little outdoor patio area, we talk for a second, and then I notice a band loading out. I don’t know who they were or if they were good. So, I talk with Shawn and his cousin for a bit more, then head inside to watch Unglued.

I first saw Unglued a couple of years ago (they opened for Agent Orange), at the Malibu Inn. They are really good. Just a straight forward, bare-bones punk band. I dug ‘em. Singer pulled a good set despite hobbling around on crutches.

Next up was Plexikill. I went outside to get some air and heard them tuning up, saw Mike from The Gears, stopped to say, “Hi.” Next thing I know Plexikill is loading out. I will say that they are a cool band, I saw them a few years ago opening for Continental. I remember them sounding a bit like a mixture of the Ramones and a bit like Rancid.

Next up was 13 Scars. What I dig about this guys is that they can really play. They can do the hardcore stuff as well as the cool old sing-along stuff. Their singer, Bradley Petrovich, has a great voice and is a real good front man. He was all over the place, on top of speakers, in the crowd . . .you name it.

The band is super tight. Overall, great musicians.

The last band of the night was Shattered Faith. Not sure what to say about these guys other than they were great. They did their classic Posh Boy tracks I Love America, Reagan Country and Right Is Right. They sounded, almost, better live than on album.

If you have a chance to see any of these bands, go. You won’t have a chance to sit down, nor will you want to.

All in all, a great show. The PA was good, clear view of the bands, and I had fun. My overall assessment, this one is for the record books!

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

Swingin’ Utters
Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass and Bones
Fat Wreck Chords
Released: February 25, 2003
Producer: The Greedy Bros.

Johnny Bonnel (vocals)
Darius Koski (guitar, vocals, accordion, piano, organ, violin, viola)
Greg McEntee (drums)
Spike Slawson (bass, vocals)

1. No Pariah – 1:30
2. Glad – 2:09
3. Hopeless Vows – 1:48
4. Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass and Bones (Bonnel, Koski) – 2:05
5. All That I Can Give – 2:24
6. Sign in a Window – 1:54
7. Don’t Ask Why – 2:12
8. Lampshade – 2:56
9. Letters to Yourself – 2:35
10. Heaven at Seventeen – 1:43
11. Leaves of Fate (Bonnel, Koski) – 1:57
12. If You Want Me To (Koski, Slawson) – 2:46
13. Elation (Goddard, Koski) – 1:40
14. Poor Me (Aust Koski, Koski) – 1:44
15. My Closed Mind – 1:23
16. Looking for Something to Follow – 2:57
17. Shadows and Lies – 1:57

Swingin’ Utters is a band that I heard about a long time ago, but never bothered to check out. No one I knew ever talked about them, and with that name I thought they were another wise-ass band like the Angry Samoans. So, I never bothered. Turns out I was wrong (I know I was shocked too). I picked up a compilation album back in February called Loud, Fast and Furious. And it was the first time I ever gave Swingin’ Utters a listen. The track was Sign in a Window, and I was impressed.

Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass, and Bones is the Swingin’ Utters’ sixth album. Alongside the band’s usual punk style of music, there is a strong presence of Pogues-influenced Irish folk on this album, perhaps even more heavily than on the band’s previous album.

If you don’t own it, you may be in the garage mixing radiator coolant, and Sudafed, (or freebasing aspirin, yes, I’ve seen it done).

Rating: ** * two out of three stars

The standout cut is: Sign in a Window.

If you can find it, buy it.

On to the story . . .

I’ve been thinking a lot about being a parent lately. I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with my Daughter turning 19, and my Son is about a month away from turning 9.

It takes a long time before you can see if you’ve done a good job or not. I think that’s what concerns me the most.

I remember, years ago, I had an ex (she was Puerto Rican) that every time she was mad at me, she would start saying how she had the best Mom in the world, and how my family hated me. Usually, I was pretty numb to this, and didn’t say much, but one day I had had enough, and I said “How do you figure you have the best Mom in the world? Both your parents were addicted to heroin; all three of you kids dropped out of school, were on drugs, and did jail time before you were 18. How in the hell do you call that good parenting?” She gave me a nasty look, and said, “At least she loved us.” But I didn’t stop, I said “Sure, she did that’s why she threw all of you out of the house before you hit 18, so she could have more alone time with her heroin, and her many boyfriends.” That was pretty much the end between my ex, and me.

Back in 1998, I was living in Canoga Park, and I took a stroll down to the corner to get my hair cut. I got to talking to the Hispanic barber about kids (at this point I only had my four year old daughter), and he says that he has a Son, and a Daughter, and that Daughters are the best. I agree, what else am I going to say? Then he explains why, he says, “You have a Son, he grows up, gets strung out on drugs, joins a gang, and gets shot, and dies, but with a Daughter, she grows up, gets strung out on drugs, joins a gang, and gets knocked up, moves back home, gets off of drugs, and raises her kid.” I just sat there stunned, this is why Daughters are better because their ability to get knocked up by gangbangers? I don’t think I let my four-year-old daughter out of my sight for the rest of the weekend.

About fours years prior to this I was talking (and drinking) with a friend of mine named Jeff, Jeff is African American, and has many anti-Black views. Jeff and I were throwing back a couple of bottles of St. Ides (hey, it was in 1994, and Tupac said it was a good beer), and my Daughter was a few months away from being born, and in his drunken state Jeff was telling me that I had to step up, and be a good Dad, and be pleased with every decision she makes, then he said raise her the opposite way that Black people raise their kids. I asked, “How is that?” He said, “Black people are like a bucket of crabs?” I said, “What?” He replied, “Yeah, watch crabs, sometimes, if one starts to get away, they all pull him back down. That’s Black people, man. As soon as one of us starts to do well, or leave the neighborhood, everybody pulls us back down. They suck man.”

OK, it’s OK to do heroin, and throw my kids out as long as I love them, no gangbanger activity for my kids, and keep them away from crabs, check.

There used to be an entertainment magazine called Icon (not the gay magazine), and for a short time in 1998, until early 1999, it was one of my favorite magazines. It covered music, comics, movies — you name it. One issue they had a small interview with Black porn (male) star Sean Michaels. Now, not normally a subject I would be interested in, but I read everything. If I’m in a doctor’s office, and all they have is Good Housekeeping, well, I’ll read the whole thing cover to cover. Then offer great decorating tips afterwards. Anyway, Sean Michaels starts talking about his twelve-year-old Son that he doesn’t see. Then he says, “I’m not the father I want to be, because I’m not the man I want to be.”

What? This damn quote has been stuck in my head for about twelve years. I never thought that was a reasonable excuse. I can’t be a good Dad because I’m not rich enough, or I haven’t accomplished enough. WTF? There isn’t a parent in the world that makes enough, or has accomplished enough.

Another interview I read about five years back was with Mike Ness. Mike explains how he didn’t meet his Son until the boy was five years old. Now, in Mike’s case he was in all kinds of legal trouble, and he was pretty heavily addicted to drugs. Now me personally, I can’t imagine not being around my kids when they were born, or all those early years. Mike was smart to stay away until he cleaned up, and got on the straight and narrow. Nothing worse than subjecting your kids to your downfall.

So, how do you know if you did a good job or not? Hopefully, every once in a while, they will just plop down in your lap for no reason at all, and smile at you. And hopefully, this won’t be followed by “You know what I’d really like to get?”

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

13 Scars
13 Scars
Release: 2012

Shawn Durand – Guitar, Vocals
Todd Hewitt – Bass, Vocals
Brian Fritts – Guitar, Vocals
Will Marcus – Drums
Bradley Petrovich – Vocals

1. No Last Call
2. Derby Girl
3. Name in Lights
4. No Alibis
5. Better Time
6. Stand and Be Heard
7. 13 Scars
8. Christian
9. Anti Recruiter

There are two things that, usually, make me hate an album. First off, Cookie Monster vocals will get you the worst review ever. I’ll probably say, “You blow donkeys.” Second thing, this is kind of iffy. If the first song starts out balls to the wall, I probably won’t like it. You see for most bands they try to show you how “Hardcore” they can be, so the first track is usually somebody banging on pots and pans while somebody else pulls the dog’s tail. Nothing, but yelping and crashing, hate it. So, when I put this album on and it started out real fast, I went, “Oh shit, I like these guys . . . . now what?” Then the song got kind of catchy. Then I listened to the next song and then the next . . . and by the time I was done I was hooked.

Much like the old British punk bands that I used to listen to 13 Scars has some big, bad-ass choruses. It’s punk through and through, but you can sing along with your friends at your local pub.

Get over to their Facebook page or their Reverbnation page and give them a listen, they are the best thing to come out the Northwest in ages.

The standout cuts are: Name In Lights, Better Time and 13 Scars

If you can find it, buy it.

Rating: *** three out of three stars

On to the story . . .

Have you ever done something in your life that left somebody completely devastated? I’m sure you have. I know I have. Some things intentionally, others accidentally.

When I was eight or nine years old my dad started taking my brother and me for weekends, twice a month, as part of his custody. The visits started when I was eight. He left when I was six, and at eight he would pick us up two Saturdays a month. Then after about a year he asked my mom if it was cool if he had us for a whole weekend, he wanted to take us to Palm Springs for the whole two days. She reluctantly said, “OK.”

We were all nervous, me, my mom and my brother. Good, bad or whatever, we got used to our routine. Two years together and now it’s getting changed. I don’t know what to say to this guy, you were there and now you’re not. So, we ending arguing and fighting (probably, just me and my mom, my brother was a pretty low-key dude).

So, one time my dad comes over to pick us up and we’re bickering, my dad says, “If the fighting gets too much and you want to get away, just call me. I’ll pick you up and bring you back once everybody is calmed down.” What?! We couldn’t do that. It felt like we’d be selling out mom.

So, six or seven months later some shit popped off and everybody is fighting, crying and carrying-on. So, I say, “I’m going to call dad to come get us.” At that point my mom was like, “Fine, go ahead.”

Something happened during the time I told my dad to get us and the time when he arrived. It sunk in, I sold my mom out. The guy who ditched us was now my safe-haven.

By the time my dad arrived we were all crying and apologizing. My dad was cool about it; he let my mom know that we were going to run up to the newsstand, buy some comic books then be back.

Though I would have many, many more fights with my mom, I never forgot how devastated she looked as I dialed my dad up on the phone.

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