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.