Music History, Part 3: The Early Boise Years: 1982 to 1983

Originally posted on My Space, March 20th, 2007

Attention new readers: Please read first blogs to start, or at least, see disclaimer at the beginning of the first three blogs! Thanks...

In the early 80's a famous punk rock artist lived in Boise. His name was Brian Schroeder, but his pen name was 'Pushead'. I never really knew how he ended up in Idaho, perhaps he had relatives there, or grew up there (anyone feel free to jump in and fill us in on that). I do know that one of his first famous drawings was in fact ripped off from him by The Exploited from England. It was of a skeleton in a leather jacket with a dark mow hawk, if I remember correctly. Another drawing was ripped off by LA's Wasted Youth (years later, Wasted Youth would also rip off some records of mine after I was gracious enough to let them stay at my apartment. More on that later).

Exploited logo - Artwork by Pushead

The skeleton, more importantly, the skull, would become his trademark. This particular mohican skull was one of his earlier drawings, before he perfected his unique style of line drawing; using bold, snaking lines as shading, rather than the traditional cross-hatching often used in black and white drawing (black and white was the primary type of drawing he did, I assume, because most punk rock bands could never afford full color printing at the time, except maybe one or two spot colors).

Pushead did many single covers, album covers, gig posters, (for too many bands to list, but most notably, The Misfits, The Necros, SS Decontrol, Youth Brigade, 7 Seconds, even Metallica) and eventually, skateboard designs, I believe first with Zorlac. His style was unmistakable, and influenced generations of subversive artists to come.

The subject matter he chose was incredibly dark (which fit punk like a glove) much along the lines of horror films; rotting corpses (holding up their own detached eyeballs to get a closer look at you) the hell of war and violence. His drawings were everywhere in the underground world of punk, and in that world, he was king.

Because of his many connections with bands, he began to set up gigs in Boise and invited some of the best hardcore punk bands of the time to play there. This was unprecedented, and stirred a lot of excitement, even amongst people who never listened to that kind of music, they somewhat like attendants at a freak show, perhaps motivated by a desire to see something go awry, or it was a chance to see something they may never see again.

Just before Pushead started puting on these shows, the Crusties and Scott decided to start a band. Scott and Pat's father and step mother had an amazing garage, huge, with a barn-like loft, perfect for a band to jam in (Pat was still away at school in Santa Barbara).

Initially, they started the band without a singer in mind. The details are a little fuzzy, but somehow, one of my old hoodlum friends from Jr. High, a handsome, intelligent and slightly devilish and crazy guy named Eric and I both offered ourselves up for the job. The Crusties took a subversively democratic approach to the situation by saying they would just have two singers (not totally unusual at the time) when in reality, it was a prolonged audition to see who cut it.

To my surprise and theirs, I had a huge voice and wrote very political and relevant lyrics, prolifically (I had always written, since the time I was able, in addition to drawing). Eric seemed more interested in being crazy and punk and missed rehearsal didn't have many lyrics, so they chose me and gave Eric the boot. And the topper, I owned the PA system. Thus, in 1983, the music career of a once picked on, girly guy with the last name Flower began.

Looking back at my lyrics, many are, of course, naive as hell. I was a sixteen year old who grew up in an isolated town, for Chrissakes! But some surprised me, found in my trusty spiral notebook that I scrawled in constantly (often in class). Here is a sampling of a song that survived into the next band; State of Confusion (as did some others) called '5 Lives';

I see your point

I see mine too

I see his and hers

They all seem true

But you know that if I don't agree

With what was heard and said

I won't speak out against you

I'll keep in my head

I'll be on his side when I'm with him

And yours when I'm with you

(Chorus)

So many people, so many minds, choices! choices! (repeated twice)

It's easier to cop out

And live five different lives

It's easier to agree with all

To be undecided 'til we die

Many of my songs took more of a personal politics slant like this, and many others followed the fashion of the time, that of bitching about cops, being hassled, being picked on for being different. I like to think I was a bit more clever than most, however, with songs like 'Bored Authority' that had lines like;

In a town of minimum population/Policemen face immense frustration/Burnin free fuel on night patrol/got nothin to do cuz nothin's outta control//Bored Authority(this is the proverbial sing along part where mobs of stinky kids spat on me and my mike singing along)//Got nothin to do//Bored Authority//Guess we'll arrest you//Bored Authority//It's so much fun//Bored Authority//To see the teenagers run.

This was based on reality. The cops were incredibly bored in Boise, and did harass the hell out of teenagers in general, but when punk started, it was like God gave them prey they were justified in hunting. These cruel motherfuckers are a prominent character in this tale. But don't you worry; they get theirs. [Note that here I am not talking about all cops, if it weren't for the majority of good cops in any city, we'd all be screwed].

Pushead skated (read 'skateboarded'), and skated pretty damn well, and he had his own entourage of skater punks at his side at all times, and he ruled the roost. He was incredibly tall and lanky, with an intelligent birdlike face (though not unhandsome, think a taller Anthony Perkins) and he had thick wavy hair that he wore sticking up yet combed back.

Scott and I and the Crusties began to skate with them, and they primarily skated half pipes built in someone's back yard. It drove us to be better skaters, as it was a typical jeering and critical boy crowd that you had as an audience. Pushead could sometimes be the cruelest, while still encouraging you; Mixed messages like a stern father. Whether we loved him or hated him, we all looked up to him. He knew the fucking Misfits. He knew Ian MacKaye. And he skated like a bird from hell, as did all his minions.

We were the scruffy kids, the roughians. And another major division; Pushead's crew was 'straightedge', a new crusade in punk sweeping the east coast, led by Ian MacKaye and Minor Threat. Straightedge was about not doing drugs or drinking, or having sex, in some cases. We tried it for two weeks. No go. We liked to party. We even hid beer at parties sometimes. It was ridiculous. Some of us didn't even do that with our own parents! Finally we said 'we are who we are'; The bad kids.

Pushead also had a band; Septic Death, which was entirely his own brainchild, and the members were guys from his own entourage and they needed a place to practice, and asked Scott to ask his dad if they could share the garage. Scott's dad, being the good natured guy he is, said sure. For us, this meant an in with the king, and later, to play at the rad gigs that Pushead set up.

Septic Death logo - Artwork and design by Pushead

By this time, we had graduated from naming songs by number (literally it was "play 3!") to having songs with names, and having a name for the band, chosen by our burly blonde German American bass player, Brad, who had been going through dictionaries to find rad names. He came across the word 'Dissident' and thought it appropriate, and tacked on 'Militia'. Dissident Militia was born. We were pretty God awful. I can't say we ever got very good. We got better. 

I can also say that we were fast as hell, and that was more than half of what mattered. Much of the time, Brad was playing bass in a different key than Scott, who had picked up the guitar. The drummer was a cat named Erik, who was Brad's right hand man in high school. Brad and Erik were Scott's first roughian friends.

Erik was really only a punk to sew his wild oats, but we didn't find that out until later. He was, however, a badass drummer and played amazingly fast, and accurately. By far, he was the closet to a real musician in the band at the time. But hardcore, and punk in general, was all about just picking up an instrument and playing. Fuck it. Don't judge me, at least I'm doing something.

This is why I think so many cool styles evolved out of punk over the years. The players learned music on their own, and those who stuck with it developed a totally unique style. But incessantly, people would say, "you guys don't even know how to play your instruments." And, since it was expected of us, we just said "Fuck you."

The first ever gig I remember playing with Septic Death was at a hall called Moose Lodge in 1983, and it was a bit before the gigs with the bigger, out of town punk bands. This was Dissident Militia's debut, and we were psyched. Some old school friends may need to help me here, but the bands I remember from this bill were, Oats in the Pan (the fantastic and weird band of Mike Scheer's, who is one of my favorite artists in the world, who did a few Treepeople album and EP covers, and recently did the artwork for Built To Spill's latest release, 'You In Reverse'. Check his website out! 
www.mikescheer.com ) Dissident Militia, and Septic Death, Theory, The Techno Peasants, Polyester Leadership, Cheap Emotion. I don't remember all these bands, but I did find the flyers online (see link below)

Pushead told us to design our own flyers for the show, and true to the punk ethic, he told us to put ourselves as the headliners on our flyers. I designed ours, a gravestone, with a skeletal arm pointing at the band names, rotting flesh falling from the bones. See this flyer, and Pushead's flyer, here: http://www.septicdeath.com/moose.html

Top: Septic Death, Dissident Militia flyer - Artwork/Design by Wayne Flower

Bottom: Septic Death, Dissident Militia flyer - Artwork/Design by Pushead

We had seen Septic Death practice before. The music was pretty cool. Super fast and brutal. Pushead screeched and screamed and towered over us all in the garage loft. The guitar was loud and distorted, the bass thumping along, and the drums insanely fast and precise.

Pushead basically sang his drawings, later writing songs called 'Eye Missing' and 'Demon Inside of Me'. The night of the gig, we all met at the garage to load up the gear. Septic Death walked in and were all completely decked out. Massively spiked hair (British style). Bleach stained jeans and shirts, spiked wrist bands and belts. You may think our jaws dropped in awe? Actually, we were incredibly disappointed. We were of the no nonsense school of punk. Wear what you wear everyday on stage. No posing! Punk is about the music, about the message! In retrospect we were being silly, I guess. But at the time, we took that esthetic very seriously. It was the first division between us and them (before the 'Straightedge' division), and this division would widen.

The gig was incredible. People weren't pogoing, they were bumping into each other (playfully, then) swinging each other around. The music was well received by all and we had a blast playing it. I was performing and feeling that high for the first time. But you never admitted that! No way man! Music! Message! We didn't give a fuck if people liked us or not, man! Needless to say, I soon had conflicts with this silly MO, but at the time...it was as important as 'bling' is to hip hoppers today (or should I say, the record label ho hip hoppers that are the only ones radio stations will play? Another blog, perhaps). At the end of the show, we knew we wanted to do this more. And More. Girls actually noticed me! What a ride.

Dissident Militia at Moose Lodge, Boise, ID, 1983

Pushead singing for Septic Death at Moose Lodge, Boise, ID, 1983

Flyer for one of the last Dissident Militia's shows

Tune in next time. Dissident Militia go on the road and meet 'The Kings of Punk'. Boise gets a 'scene' and bands spring up like potatoes.