Attention new readers, please read previous, chronological blog entries, or at least see the disclaimer on any one of them. Or...do whatever the hell you want.
Before I get to the blog, there is a major event in my life that I didn't mention before, that my father died in 1982, when I was 16, of his third heart attack. My parents had been divorced since I was 6 and I visited my father every summer up until I was 14, and after I started to get more into the life of a 'teen punk', I felt my summers were better spent playing music and skateboarding than in Reno, Nevada. Looking back now, as an adult, I realize I really made a mistake. He even called me once and begged me to come see him, I declined. It was the last time I spoke with him.
It was one of those important life moments, and the result was that I threw myself into music and the associated lifestyle even more, began to work two jobs and pretty much kept at a frantic pace for many years. In retrospect, it all makes sense. And when my mother followed him 6 years later, it was all I had.
Ok, ok…put the tissue away! Sometime during the time of Dissident Militia, there was a gig we all attended that became a historical moment in Boise punk. The main band was a band called The B-Sides (so named after the Adam Ant song). The B-Sides were a fun new wave cover band, and they did some originals. The singer was Cathe Crooks, a short, cute, different looking girl with a big voice and good stage presence.
The B-Sides
I had been friends with Cathe over a short time, mainly because I had a crush on her, but it was never to be. The band was made up of seasoned musicians. This, combined with their covers tailored them for mostly parties and dances. Somehow, around early 1983, The B-Sides landed a dance at Capital High School (where my older brothers and sisters went to school in the 60's and 70's).
I don't know what the student body of Capital High is like today, but in 1983 it was pretty much made up of jocks and farm kids (often one in the same). It is located on the mesa and the school district included many kids from farms to the west, from towns like Meridian (which now has a high school of its own as of the late 80's, I believe).
Though Boise High had its scary jocks who tormented us punks, at least we had some numbers there, and also, over the years, many cool jocks befriended us and we co-existed peacefully at parties many times. This would never happen at Capital High.
The Dissident Militia clan and many of the Septic Death clan decided to check out this dance. Why not? There would be tons of cute new wave girls there. We all met at Erik's place, whose parents were gone every weekend to their cabin, leaving us to party all the time there, and we drank Southern Comfort (why? I have no idea. We used to drive Erik's little VW bug into the foothills and crank Suicidal Tendencies and Metallica 'Kill 'Em All' and drink this evil swill) and hit the dance, drunk off our asses. Especially Erik. Brad drove.
The show was packed. This was the tail end of the days of curiosity amongst many I mentioned before, and as well, it was billed as a school dance, so most of the school was there. The B-Sides were sounding pretty good. People were dancing. We were drunk, scanning the new wave girls and pretty jock girls.
Then this group of thick jocks appeared in a clump of 5 or so, led by a guy famous for his football playing and for being a major douchebag. I have masked many names in this blog, but douches get no pass. His name was Sandy. Blonde, musclebound football farm boy. Sandy started yelling "PUNK ROCK FUCKIN SUCKS!!!" after every song that The B-Sides played.
Erik was extremely drunk at this point, as the bottle of Southern Comfort had made its way to the show with us. He swung his red head around to Sandy, and yelled "ROCK N ROLL FUCKIN' SUCKS!!!" Which is really funny, too, because as I mentioned previously, Erik was only moonlighting as a punk and was in fact a huge fan of Rock N Roll.
What happened next was a flash; Sandy turned to Erik and swung two punches, both connecting with his head, one in the face, and one on the side of his head. Blood flew everywhere, I was standing right behind Erik when it happened. Chaos erupted then, and me and a few other people ran behind the stage to avoid all the fights that broke out.
A friend of Pushead's and sort of chaperon to us all was a guy a bit older than us named Kerry, who had some money, drove a sports car, owned a house and wore classic British style punk garb mixed with touches of heavy metal, was standing by me, and after Sandy hit Erik, he lunged at Sandy, heroically. At one point he even kicked him in the neck. (A note on Kerry: He made a comp cassette tape for us on which he had scrawled 'Gnarly Tunes' on the label. Gnarly Tunes became a punk cassette bible to us. On this comp was the compilation 'This Is Boston, Not LA' which changed our life. Serious.)
A hardcore compilation that was a huge influence on Boise hardcore punk
Someone turned on the lights at one point, and the fighting stopped as everyone blinked and looked around. Just as people were getting their bearings, the lights went out again and as soon as that happened, the fighting resumed. The whole thing probably only lasted 5 minutes tops but seemed longer.
Then the cops showed up. They were talking only to normal looking kids, and anyone dressed differently, punk or new wave, would get turned away. It was blatant discrimination. Not that it was any surprise, we saw it all the time on many levels, but never so in our face, and it was foreshadowing to the next chapter of the Boise Police Department, their shameful history in dealing with youths.
The parking lot at Capital High was huge, a dirt lot that seemed to expand forever, especially in the dark. Brad was very upset about the unfair treatment we had received. He was yelling "Pigs fucking SUCK!!!"
Out of the darkness, like silent demons, several police officers appeared . They surrounded us. The biggest one approached Brad, stepping slowly towards him, until they both stood toe to toe. "Did I hear someone say 'Pig'?"
"No," Brad lied.
"I distinctly heard the words 'Pigs fucking SUCK."
"Wasn't me."
I have no idea how we got out of that one, but we did. They walked away, disappearing into the darkness.
There are a few gaps in my memory…okay many gaps! But as to how or why we started to jam at Erik's house in his room, I don't remember. Maybe Scott and Pat's dad or their step mom had had enough, understandably, of our noise, or possibly the neighbors complained.
Another gap is the reason why we decided to change it up in the band and have Brad switch to singing and me switch to bass. Sad, but true; I don't even know the reason I started playing bass was! Maybe because Brad's playing was not up to snuff? But why me? I had never played an instrument in my life! All modesty aside, it fit like a glove. I loved it, and I got pretty good at it fast. I was in love. And the band State of Confusion was born.
The name of the band was born at a party I had once at my mother's apartment when she was out of town. I remember it clearly: I was a bit tipsy, my girlfriend at the time was falling asleep (also tipsy) in the bath tub (the tub was dry, she was fully clothed).
For some reason, Pushead was at this party. I was looking at my girl in the bathtub while talking to Pushead about the fact that we couldn't come up with a band name. He looked at me, looked at my girlfriend and said something like, "You guys should call yourselves 'State Of Confusion', because that is where you always are." It stuck, and we of course had no idea it was a Kinks song. Or at least I didn't. I actually wrote the lyrics to our theme song shortly after (see them at the end of this blog).
I still have my first bass, a Yamaha BB400 [I no longer have this bass], which is a kind off a knock-off of a Fender Precision but more of a country bass. Most of the instruments sold in Boise at that time catered to country musicians or classic rock musicians, but more so the former. Scott's first guitar (which ended up being his guitar through much of the Treepeople, too) was a solid blonde wood Peavey, with a crazy buzztwangy sound that he distorted through some odd Lab Series amp.
Eventually, Erik used his handyman skills to build Scott an amp with 4 10 inch speakers and a crazy looking wooden box that he covered in green vinyl material. The speakers were mounted in chip board that he painted bright dayglo orange. It was the oddest looking amp I have ever seen. For a time, Scott used this and one Peavey PA speaker, and his Fender Champ practice amp as the amplifier head. I can't even begin to explain how it sounded. The early State of Confusion albums are the only record, and captured badly in farm studios.
If I remember correctly, we played a few shows with this line up (Brad singing, me on bass, Scott on guitar and Erik on drums) One show was even a revisit to the Moose Lodge. But Brad, God bless him, wasn't really cutting it as a singer. He missed many practices, was unprepared for shows, was lax on writing lyrics. Waiting in the wings was Pat, ready to jump on the opportunity. Brad was out, Pat was in. I can't say it enough; nothing was ever the same again.
Brad Krommenhoek, original singer of State Of Confusion (and bass player for Dissident Militia), and the author in a tender moment at Moose Lodge, Boise, ID
Pat's singing was rough at best, but raw and brutal. In punk you didn't have to be a brilliant singer anymore than you had to be a good musician. And his lyrics were unique and intelligent, far above what most people sang about in hardcore punk at the time.
To start, SOC had played many Dissident Militia songs to fill our set list, so a lot of the early SOC songs were Dis/Mil songs. Many ended up on the first album, '6.3 Million Acres'.
Pat also brought enthusiasm and a work ethic to what we were doing. He was all about the DIY ethic (Do It Yourself) and began to get us gigs, design logos, and write punk mags and get us reviews. During live shows, he was a juggernaut of insanity, springing into the air, leaping 4 feet off the ground, spewing fury. He had a talent for stirring people up, for better or worse.
Pat Schmaljohn guest singing on the mic and the author at Moose Lodge, Boise, ID
By this point, we were 'all growed up', and distanced ourselves a bit from 'Father Pushead', and thanks in large part to Pat, we were putting on the shows.
We befriended other people in the scene as well, people who had started bands of their own. Many of the bands of the time were: Blind Acceptance, LD50, Common Issue, Shades of Grey, Skulldiggers, The Pugs, The Gargoyles, Underground Cinema ( I am sure I am missing some, anyone feel free to add! Many Boise bands weren't around yet at this time...).
Also, we began playing at a local bar called The Crazy Horse. The Crazy Horse is a major milestone in the history of SOC, and of the Boise punk scene in general, so I will dedicate an entire blog entry to it. At the time, the drinking age in Idaho was 19, and I was 18 (and was thus grand fathered when the law changed to age 21 the next year), but no one ever checked IDs at the Crazy Horse then. So I began playing bars at this tender age, but I had begun drinking at age 14 anyway. I was already a pro!
The next step to being an efficient punk rock machine was a headquarters, a house for us all to live in and practice in. Pat began the quest for a house to rent, and found one. It was right down the street from where we jammed with Septic Death at his father's house. At age 18, I moved in with my band and Brad. Many legendary nights were had there. So much so that the school board soon became aware of us, and that when people's teenagers ran away, it was one of the first places they checked.
State of Confusion (lyrics by Wayne Flower)
When the elders look at me
They see success that could be
A proud name upon the wall
Well hey man, that's not me at all
(Chorus) Why don't they just let up
And leave me be
Aww, shit, can't you see I'm in a
State of Confusion/State of Confusion
My room's a mess and so am I
Sometimes I get to high
One day stumbles into the next
Take it easy, man,
I'm doin my best
They say their's no way out
But their's no way in
And from the very bottom
I have to begin
I like to be confused
It makes life fun
You never know what comes next
You don't have to run
When the elders look at me
They see success that could be
A proud name upon the wall
Well hey man, that's not me at all
(Chorus) Why don't they just let up
And leave me be
Aww, shit, can't you see I'm in a
State of Confusion/State of Confusion
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