Disclaimer:
This account of histories of the Boise, Idaho (81-89) and Seattle, Washington punk and indie music scenes (89-2003) are from my perspective and memory only. In other words, I could be off on some things! If you were there, and want to correct me, please feel free to send me a message or email. I will try my damndest to clear the cobwebs, get it right and be as objective as possible. Also, I am consulting various friends to make sure I am as correct as can be. Like I said in my intro blog entry, I am keeping personal details as vague as possible unless imperative to the story, and even then I will stay as neutral as possible. In other words, no juicy gossip here, sorry!
A note about Wayne's memory, and memory in general: My father passed on in the early 80's, rest his soul. I went to his funeral in Eastern Washington when I was 16. For many years, I had a distinct memory of his ashes being spread over the rolling hills by a priest, who got his ashes out from a beautiful urn. Many years later, in a conversation with my older sister, I came to find that what actually happened was that his ashes got held up on a plane and she went to get them and rush them to the service, in a simple wooden box. They were hastily buried so that my aunt, a religious woman, would not see the modest box. The priest was wrangled up last minute, and also more for my aunt's benefit than my father's, as he was not at all religious (he refused to let me be baptized!). My point is that…memory is a funny thing. So if any of this is bullshit…it was not by design!
Things accelerated briskly after the period of the Channel shows. Jane and Rob lost interest and moved out of town to CA, and, the salad days were over for us. The 'New Wavers' went our separate ways, not totally, but we were never that same unit again. We had a good run at Boise High, though, and one of our number, a very intelligent (and a little creepy) senior who wore his hair long but listened to the same music and aspired to the same ethic we did managed to campaign successfully for Student Body President. Things shifted a bit then, to be sure. Also, New Wave had become a radio whore (as I mentioned before) and MTV's exposure was a factor. New Wave's obsession with fashion and looks was a perfect fit for MTV, and therefore, our fashion and 'culture' a little more legitimate because of this exposure, but only to some degree. We were still frowned upon, in general. Ultimately, though, this fashion whoredome was what drove myself and many others away from New Wave and toward its surly sibling; Punk.
Sophomore year ended and by this time I had begun to hang with a whole new crew of friends through my afore-mentioned friend Scott, who had abandoned heavy rock n roll for a new, fast-paced, angry music called 'Hardcore' that was sweeping the East and West coasts and leaving a trail in between. This was the music/lifestyle of choice amongst his new-found friends. This new crew was made up of roughians, a year older than us, skateboarders, drinkers, partiers (of course, most of the school were partiers…what all American high school student body isn't?). They were the 'Anti-jock', without sacrificing any machismo.
Scott's big brother, Pat (also afore-mentioned) was becoming more of an influence over him, and thus, over me as well. Pat was back from school in CA one summer, when I met him for the first time. He had a close-cropped hair style, but you could still see how thick and curly it was. He wore punk rock and skateboard T shirts, Vans tennis shoes. (Vans were only just then catching on in Boise. Pat sent Scott Vans slip-ons when Scott and I were in Jr High and people would chant "Gilligan shoes!!" at him. Within 1 year, everyone was wearing them, whether they skateboarded or not. Ain't it always the way?). Pat's transportation was a rad blue Schwinn cruiser bike with whitewall tires that he rode with fury, and his trusty street skateboard.
Gilligan Shoes!!
Pat's presence was intense, arrogant, intelligent, badass. Everything about him said "don't fuck with me". I was still a bit feminine (though heterosexual) and very verbose, a little neurotic and quite the wiseass (Crap. Minus the feminine part, that is me today!). Needless to say, Pat and I did not really hit it off at first. I guess you could say we never really did, until the end.
Pat took Scott under his wing, brought home records for him to listen to. The Clash, the Adolescents, and most importantly, Black Flag (Henry Rollins was a big hero of his). I clearly remember one day when I was over at their house, Scott and I were intrigued by an Echo and the Bunnymen video playing on MTV, I forget the song, but it was a live performance in England, an entire crowd of people pogoing up and down. We thought it was super cool and said so.
Echo and the Bunnymen? "Faggy new wave shit." - Pat Schmaljohn
Pat was not impressed. "That's faggy new wave shit! Come here! Listen to this!" and he proceeded to put an LP onto their parents' living room turntable. It was 'Give 'Em Enough Rope' by The Clash. We got it. This was what was cool. Not that 'faggy new wave shit'. Fuck pogoing! These guys had balls! They told it like it was. They sang about wars and fucked politicians, and hypocritical assholes. And they played music that backed it up. Grabbed you by the balls. Fuck crying over some girl in a trench coat who ignored you!
The record that changed my view of what punk was
Here and there I began to end up at parties with Scott and his new friends. Years later, they became known as 'The Crusty Boys'. For purposes of easily identifying them, I will use this title (and variations of it) before its time in this chronology.
The Crusties were not sure about me yet, and were a little suspicious, but I was ok with Scott, so I was ok with them. It fit with the pattern I had established early in life, that of hanging out with roughians. Inevitably, a fight started at the parties, things got broke, someone's girlfriend was 'stolen'. Suddenly, I was invited to less parties!
I was no longer small. During sophomore year, I shot up to the 6' 2" frame I am in today, though I was then skinny as a rail, and I was no macho guy. From being beat on a lot, I was, however, tough enough to cut the mustard. And my razor wit helped win over the Crusties somewhat. They were all about the dis, the put down, and I could play that game when needed (though not the best at taking it!).
The Crusties were skateboarders to the extreme, the kind of guys you read about in Thrasher Magazine, who lived the lifestyle (think 'Jackass' with skateboards and with less pranks, years before its time), they skated hard, played hard, and listened to music that fit that lifestyle.
That music was known as 'Hardcore Punk'. Many of the bands also skated, and later, 'Skaterock' evolved from that, bands that sang about skating. The Crusties both streetskated and skated on half-pipe ramps, and were quite good, many nearly at a pro level. I fell in and began to skateboard, I traded in my long locks for a crew cut, my suit coat for punk shirts (my first couple were a Dead Kennedys Holiday in Cambodia shirt and a shirt with a picture of Reagan and a red anti symbol over his face) and jack boots and Vans. I started listening to hardcore; Black Flag, Negative Approach, Gangreen, The FUs, Seven Seconds, Dead Kennedys, Youth Brigade, The Necros, The Misfits, Husker Du (yes…they were hardcore then! Listen to the early stuff; 'Land Speed Record' or 'Everything Falls Apart') Minor Threat, The Faith, Void and many others. This music would dominate my turntable and my cassette decks for quite awhile, until a band called The Minutemen rocked my world a different way...More on that later!
One of my first 'punk' t-shirts
Stay tuned…Next episode: Wayne joins a band.
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