Saturday, September 24, 2011

Music History, Part 14: The Later Boise Years 1987

Originally posted on My Space, January 23rd, 2009

Disclaimer: Memory is a funny thing, and an elusive one. Meaning; I might have some of this wrong, as 1. My memory is not always accurate, like anyone and 2. It is from my perspective only. Any friends who were there, feel free to correct me or add things I have missed. It helps! Also, no gossip on anyone here, it aint about that. Personal details are on a surface level, and friends, girlfriends and others are re-named to respect their privacy. People in bands generally put their names out there on albums and in interviews anyway, and are not in the habit of staying anonymous, and therefore are named here. That said, anyone who is in the blog that wishes me not to use their name has only to ask.


The Cruel Desert That Spawned Us Calls Us Home - SOC's 1987 Tour; a perilous journey, Part V: Green River Utah Blues

We were waiting for some money to get wired to us so Pat & Erik could hitchhike back to Price and pick up the truck, then we could head out of Green River and go to Salt Lake for our final show of the tour with Government Issue and our friends The Potato Heads. We were bored as hell; 'I'm making this entry out of sheer fucking boredom. We sat at the pool & Pat & T went to a store around the corner to purchase grub. It consisted of two pounds of Zesta saltines & 16 slices of salami. We decided we needed a change of pace you see [from the endless baloney sandwiches] We ate this meal on the lawn behind the pool where there was shade. Always the fucking flies and mosquitoes everywhere. After awhile two old bags came out and told us to leave. Damn! No more pool. We were just saying how the pool made the place bearable...' 


We moved to the park where Ted and I were tortured before and laid on the picnic tables on the covered patios, where it was nice and cool in the shade. A school bus pulled up, it was customized, with a dove, a rainbow and a yin and yang symbol painted on the outside. We saw this and hoped maybe they were 'generous hippie types' possibly willing to 'slide us some food or something' but it was a couple with a baby. Another bus pulled up and out poured several young teenagers on some sort of outing. 'Now they're eating,' observes Young Wayne '...once again tortured. I hate this pit. It's giving me cynical vision. I keep wondering who in their right mind would want to live here and how the only way I'll come back to this town is if I'm doing 90 mph through it.'








Diet of the stranded Northwest punk rocker


As we sat watching the teen group get out endless cold cuts and bread and chips and eat, Pat went over to get some water at the fountain for his cup. We must have looked pretty pitiful, like alley mutts, watching them eat. On his way back to us, Pat stopped by the troop and asked them if they wanted to use the covered tables we were occupying. They said they were fine. Soon after this, a woman and a girl walked over toward us holding a couple foil mounds. "We have something for you guys," the woman said. It was cold cuts, some rye bread and about 10 containers of yogurt. The Gods had smiled upon us. 


The group was touring around the country staying at camp sites and hotels. They were staying at a hotel that night and couldn't eat all of the food. This was good timing because we hardly had any money. It fed us almost all the way home. 'We are now watching Simon & Simon [we had a portable TV with us] awaiting the usual rain. One more night in hell. One more night looking at the rolled orange Pinto next to us.'


 


Simon & Simon + free coldcuts = HEAVEN



Before leaving Green River, we tried to beg some money from some people. Pat asked a man filling up his car with gas for money, or started to ask him, and before Pat even finished his sentence, in a hoarse voice, the old man croaked "I haven't got any money." 'How's he payin' for the fuckin' petrol, then?' asked Wayne in the journal. Ted also hit up everyone at Burger Time. Nobody gave him a dime. The town hated us. When Pat and Ted had gone to get the crackers earlier, they said there was a sign advertising that the crackers were on sale. The man at the register charged them full price. They mentioned the sign saying they were on sale, and the man tore down the sign and said "Not anymore they're not."

Our last night in Green River was spent at the abandoned 'Uranium Hotel' Erik had spotted earlier. He went in first, scoped it out, then poked his head out and told us to come in the door quickly. It was a creepy. The room looked exactly as the maid had left it, but with dust on everything. Though it was nice to sleep on a bed and without mosquitoes buzzing, it was a fitful sleep, as we heard cars pulling up and parking and leaving through the night, and were paranoid of the Sheriff finding us out. We were terrified of making noise, and so I held my piss in all night until I could hold it no more and pissed into the empty toilet. 'I'm beginning to appreciate Boise more & more every moment I am here. In fact being on the road makes you appreciate many things.' Pat and Erik left town get the truck while Scott and Ted and I killed time once again, but they were back pretty quickly with a Ryder truck and a tow bar. We hooked up our van and hit the road. 'Got the stereo hooked up, Beastie Boys blarin SHE'S CRAFTY!!!'

Meltdown in Salt Lake City. Wayne quits the band. Sort of.


After arriving in Salt Lake City, UT, we found Jonathan from The Potato Heads' house (or as we called them, 'The Potheads') and Jonathan and Brendan were sitting on the couch on their front porch. We told them our sad tale and then went on the roof and proceeded to knock off a case of beer between us. We ended up sleeping on the roof. 'It was a nice sleep. The sun woke me up about 9 or so and I called my mom. She's anxious to see me now that she knows I'm coming home...It's pretty depressing thinking about the shows we are going to miss, I try not to. Tomorrow night is our show with the G.Is [Government Issue] so at least we get to meet them and play with them...I hope it's a good gig. It's good to be in a comfortable place among friends with no flies or mosquitoes to drive us insane.' 


What happened next is one of those times you tend to not want to remember. But here I am, writing a blog. I chose to go here. I will preface it by saying that Pat and Ted were both pretty in your face personalities. Ted is probably reading this, and I know he would not argue with me, and I know he has calmed down, is a father. These are young men I am talking about here, including, of course, myself. Pat, however, is no longer alive, and can’t really defend himself. Therefore, I had Scott, the brother who survived him, approve this entry (Ted, too). So the two ‘in your face’ personalities got in each other’s face in Salt Lake the next night at Jonathan’s place.

It started as some silly argument about how Ted liked Uniform Choice (a hardcore band) and Pat saying they ripped off Minor Threat (a more famous, influential hardcore band) and this led to Pat accusing Ted of talking shit about SOC. We had all just been through some rough times, as you have read, and we had all been drinking a lot of beer. These things were undoubtedly factors as well. At any rate, the conversation ended with Pat punching Ted in the nose, and to a broken-nosed, bleeding Ted taking his duffel bag and walking off into the night, calling his girl, and getting money wired to him so he could go home.




Uniform Choice VS State Of Confusion = a broken nose


I went out looking for him, walking alone and drunk into the dark Salt Lake City streets. After a few blocks, I noticed a really sketchy looking dude who was clearly following me in the shadows cast by the trees under the streetlights, like I was in some horror movie and he a monster in pursuit. I was so on edge and drunk that I walked right up to him, figuring it best to take him by surprise and use that to my advantage. So I walked up to him, got in his face and asked him, "You got a problem following people or something???" He looked instantly scared. "N-no. No." So I left him and he stayed where he was until I walked away. I asked around at 7-Elevens and places still open if they had seen a Mexican kid with a bloody face. None had.

I walked back to the house and crashed as the sun rose. I said I was quitting the band. Pat asked if I would play one more show, the one that night. I agreed to do that. I never ended up quitting. And Pat and Ted made up right after we got back from tour. But I would threaten to quit again, and eventually would, but not in this band. That is for later in the tale.

We had a lackluster rehearsal in The Potato Heads’ space. I wrote in my journal that we had a great set at the show that night and that Government Issue was good. We played at a place called ‘The Poultry Shack’ because that is literally what it was, an industrial sized barn at a chicken farm that put on shows in the mid '80s. It was actually a great place to play, plenty of room for over 200 people and they had a professional sound system. We played there again not too long after this show with the notorious Texas hardcore band D.R.I (Dirty Rotten Imbeciles) who had just started the whole ‘crossover movement’ (hardcore bands switching to dirgey metal).

Before leaving for this tour, I once again decided to go to college, this time (as opposed to when I was 19) driven more by my actual desire than my mother’s desire, though admittedly, it was also for her in that she was sick and needed something positive to look forward to. I had applied for grants and loans and put everything in place to start school in the fall of 1987 once I had returned from tour, at Boise State University. I was nervous about it but also excited to learn and change my life. I had chosen to be an art major. Not that I knew what the hell I was going to pursue in art. But there it was.



(People familiar with the Descendents and their first album will get this joke...If you are not one of those people, google 'Milo Goes To College')


We returned home, I recovered from the life of poverty and adventure I had just been in, licked my wounds from a brief affair I had in which my heart was broken and set my sights toward ‘higher education’. I was 21 years old. My life would change radically in less than two years, starting with the death of my mother, a new band and a move to the ‘big city’ with said band. But before I get into all of that, I want to take a little side road and devote next entry to the Crazy Horse Saloon, the bar where so many Boise bands got their start (and still do). The tale of Boise’s music scene cannot be told without it.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Music History, Part 13: The Later Boise Years 1987

Originally posted on My Space November 26th, 2008


Disclaimer: Memory is a funny thing, and an elusive one. Meaning; I might have some of this wrong, as 1. My memory is not always accurate, like anyone and 2. It is from my perspective only. Any friends who were there, feel free to correct me or add things I have missed. It helps! Also, no gossip on anyone here, it aint about that. Personal details are on a surface level, and friends, girlfriends and others are re-named to respect their privacy. People in bands generally put their names out there on albums and in interviews anyway, and are not in the habit of staying anonymous, and therefore are named here. That said, anyone who is in the blog that wishes me not to use their name has only to ask.

The Cruel Desert That Spawned Us Calls Us Home - SOC's 1987 Tour; a perilous journey, Part IV: Green River Utah Blues
Welcome to Green River, Utah!!!

Where were we? Oh yes, Young Wayne was awakened by a loud THUMP and then, "What the fuck was that??" We found out later it was a rod being blown out of our engine. In the middle of the desert. In the summer. For those who have not been to Utah, the landscape is, like all deserts (or most, anyway) beautiful and brutal at the same time, especially in the summer, when the temperatures soar and water is literally sucked out of the air around you.

This was in the midst of summer, the heat was full on. Ted Martinez (nickname; T) a local Boise friend/musician (Blind Acceptance, The Grind) who was roadying for us, stuck his thumb out at passing cars until finally an elderly couple with a trailer camper pulled over and Erik and Pat headed with them into Green River, the nearest town. The plan was that they were to see if they could rent a truck there. Off they went and there we sat; Scott, T and Young Wayne. For 4 hours! Or as Young Wayne puts it "...4 fucking hours. We slept & listened to music. I took a shit out in the bushes. Ted saw a lizard. Two cops stopped by in that time. One of them came up to the van. He asked for ID and papers and if we had help on the way.
"You in the military?" he asked Scott.
[Scott]"No."
"Why is your hair so short?"
"Cuz I'm the only smart one." Smart ass! Finally Erik and Pat arrived in a tow truck. It was all they could scrounge up [there were no truck rental places in town]. We road [rode] in the van (me & Pat). [I think we actually were in the van as it was being towed, which was illegal even then, I am sure!].

We had a show set up in Salt Lake City that we had planned to play after our leg with Government Issue and we were making sure to secure that gig. Pat and I had decided to call the guy in Salt Lake City who was putting the show on and see if he could come get us in his Oldsmobile and tow us 200 miles (!). That is what my journal says. Sounds pretty harebrained now, but it is 22 years later! But then I write something I now realize that I took with me throughout all my ownership of many used cars after this (though a less naive version of this thinking); ' ...we've decided to put a new engine in this van since it has a brand new tranny & that would be like a new van that we would know every inch of." Then..."We went to a store, ate bologna sandwhiches in this piece of shit RV park. In fact, this whole town is a piece of shit." Oh, how correct was Young Wayne in his assessment!

Green River in Utah (the river, not the town, obviously). This could as easily be a picture from another planet, no? (Photo from Wikimedia Commons)

You ain't from around here, are ya?

Anyone who has spent any time in a small town in this country and dealing with the locals thinks of the above phrase when going through the experience; 'you aint from around here, are ya?' Usually, this phrase is uttered by the law. And the law was hip to us dirtbag punk rockers the minute they saw our broken down, green Chevy van, like some wounded lizard at the side of the road. We were marked men from that moment and it was obvious as we were towed into town. One of the first things we saw was the sheriff's brown SUV zipping by us. A quick glare was passed through the window as he drove by. It said, 'I'm watchin' you boys.' We took note.

'Right now it is raining like hell (of course) complete with thunder & lightening [lightning]. We are sitting in the van outside the joint that towed us. Oh well, just wait til next year....Well, we all slept in the van outside of Napa Auto (uncomfortably, I might add). It rained off and on. By the time we got ready for bed the whole van was swarming with bloodthirsty mosquitos. They had a fucking feast. I woke up about 6:00 [AM] with bites all over. You could see the swelled bitches trying to get out to fertilize their eggs. I was hating life at this point. Finally got back to sleep...'

The only living creatures that were happy to see us in Green River Utah were mosquitoes 

Google Map view of Napa Auto Parts shop and junkyard as it looks today. This is where our van was parked. At the time we were there (1986) the junkyard of cars from various eras spread out over at least a mile square.

Pat and Erik left us again to go see what the situation was. We sat again waiting, looking at the dismal landscape. Napa Auto parts was at the base of a rock mound. Between the mound and the garage was a huge field of endless abandoned cars from every era. It was surreal, I really wish I would have taken photos but had no camera. I will never forget that expanse of cars, various colors and models and years and stages of being eaten slowly by the brutal climate. When Erik and Pat returned they told us the plan. The nearest town that had a truck for rent was Price, UT. I note that Pat and Erik left the next morning to hitchhike to Price '...with one sign that says Price & one that says Green River...'

Boredom and Delirium take Hold...

T and Scott and I passed the time as best we could. We had some of those plastic thermal mugs that had just been invented in the 80's and we took them to gas stations to refill with soda. The days were unbearably hot. We took to hanging out in a little park. The beginnings of begging took hold; 'Right now Ted and I are in this little park writing in our journals, surrounded by pic-nicing families. Pastrami, chicken, chips, Bud Light. We're right next to them starving. I've never been so tempted to beg for food.
"Want a piece of chicken?"
"No, I'm fine, you have it."
Later "there's another piece of chicken. We gotta get rid of it." YOU MORMON FUCKS!!
"Want some salami with bread? This is good." GIMMIE IT. I'LL EAT YOU, ASSHOLES. I'LL EAT YOUR FUCKING CHILDREN, I'M SO HUNGRY!!...No, I wouldn't, but...Life on the road. We've had about everything that could go wrong go wrong. Our faith has been tested time and time again. Our faith is still there, but the money isn't. We have to make the best of this or else make it worse...This town's fucking weird. It's a piece of shit and I hate it. We're going to have to stay here for two more days. There's some Hell's Angels staying at a motel down the street. T and I were commenting on how weird we thought it was that they stayed in motels & took showers. It kind of shatters the old tough biker image. They're gettin old, though. Last night Erik went to a tavern and drank with a couple of em. I wonder where the hell Scott went? He doesn't have a key so when he gets back from wherever the hell he is he is going to be pissed. Oh well.'
The heat and boredom caused me to write sort of a fantastical, Hollywood movie script account of our scenario; '...Then me & T are gonna go party with some Hell's Angels. We'll come back and find the family [the family in the park with all the food] with our bikin bros and kill them all & take their sandwhiches.
[Bikers]"All this death just for salami?"
[T & Wayne]"Hey, it's been a long time since we've eaten good. Life on the road is hard. You guys should know."
[Bikers]"We don't usually do this shit. I got kids you know. A business at home. You guys were just so persuasive. Especially the little Mexican dude. He's a funny mother." T gets pissed at this and decides he's sick of takin shit. So he walks over to the furry biker and stabs him with his own knife. Then we take his hog and pillage the town.
What? Godamn, I'm bored.

The Uranium Motel. No shit.

On our way back from the park, Scott yelled at us from a motel pool across the street. '...so that's where the little snake went.' We swam for 3 or 4 hours. It was heaven. On the way back we saw Pat and Erik in the park we had been in previously. They had actually been there a couple hours, it turned out. They had put the money down on the truck and we were to pick it up on Wednesday, I note, but not what day the entry was. I remember us being there another night and day.

We went to the store and got our 'bologna ration' and went to the park and watched 'hard-bodied cheerleaders...do cheerleader routines.' For, young men on the road are not only hungry, but horny as well. 'There was even 5 of them.'
We showed Erik and Pat the pool and they took a swim, then back to the van. '...on way here we saw an abandoned hotel (Uranium Hotel [it was a Motel, actually), no shit.) Erik & T just went to check it out they found one room open & said it was pretty clean with two 2 beds!! Cool. Sure, it's by the sherriff's office but...We are also going to call [a local burger joint] and order a bunch of burgers and wait for them to throw them away. We'll see. Ahhh, youth!



Sign for the Uranium Motel, Green River Utah. When we found it, it had been closed for years but we snuck in and slept there for a night. Well, not slept, exactly. Every noise and flash of car lights was cause for being nervous. Photo by Chris Barrus, used with permission

The dead, the almost dead,'The Dead' and Burgers for the boys

Some more 'victims' joined us at Napa Auto Party Central, two hippy dudes from Connecticut in a towed VW van who were on their way to see the Grateful Dead. They had already gone through one engine, and their replacement engine had seized up on them, almost as if there were some sort of field that Napa Auto blasted into the desert to kill cars so they could clean up on the wayward wanderers who knew not where they drove.

The two dudes were really nice and had a little gas stove and some food that they had to shed because they were going to hitchhike across the desert. Pat came up with a brilliant scheme to get us some more food; 'Pat called Burger Time and said his name was Don Brown, coach of a track & field team and that one of 'his boys' swore that Green River had the best burgers in the world there. He ordered 15 burgers for 'his boys' & all that remained was for us to wait awhile after closing, go over & check out the dumpster. Burger heaven. We all had burgers dancing in our heads. Erik & T went over to check it out & were stopped by the sheriff. He told them not to be walking around...' (??). After that, he drove up and down the strip. We saw another sheriff [the deputy, possibly] so we were going to have to wait a bit.
Pat and I went over to the dumpsters later. We saw two cars there, so we waited. I recognized one of them I saw earlier in the day that was obviously abandoned. So when only that car was left, we walked over. We had brought our cups in case the sheriff stopped us, we would say we were seeing if the store was open. As we approached the dumpster, we saw movement within. I had better vision and saw they were cats but Pat said, "Woa...what the fuck are those things?"
"They're cats, Bro." We found no burgers, and immediately after leaving, the sheriff drove by!

Young Wayne ponders...'I can safely say we've paid our dues. Next time none of this shit is going to happen. We'll be much better prepared. Now all I've been thinking about (besides food & sex) is going home & having to find a job & prepare for school. Harsh realities everywhere ya turn...'

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Music History, Part 12: The Later Boise Years 1987

Originally appeared on My Space October 9th, 2008


Disclaimer: Memory is a funny thing, and an elusive one. Meaning; I might have some of this wrong, as 1. my memory is not always accurate, like anyone and 2. it is from my perspective only. Any friends who were there, feel free to correct me or add things I have missed. It helps! Also, no gossip on anyone here, it aint about that. Personal details are on a surface level, and friends, girlfriends and others are re-named to respect their privacy. People in bands generally put their names out there on albums and in interviews anyway, and are not in the habit of staying anonymous, and therefore are named here. That said, anyone who is in the blog that wishes me not to use their name has only to ask.

The Cruel Desert That Spawned Us Calls Us Home - SOC's 1987 Tour; A perilous journey, Part III: California and Arizona and...California.
Wayne vs. the LAPD, Beans and Tequila, Godcore in Arizona

One night in LA I decided to venture out on my own in Torrance. I walked to a convenience store about a half a mile away from where we were staying. On the way back I came across an arrest scene to the side of the road. '...there were 5 cop cars, one scruffy lookin' dude was being held at bay on the curb, and one black dude was in one of the cars....I was going to casually slip by the whole scene which was stupid, not thinking of getting shot in the head or anything. A cop said to me '...'Hey you, come 'ere.' I walked up to him. He continued "You don't just walk up to something like this. You hang out and see what's goin' on.' After a while this fat cop comes up on the right.
"What's your name?"
"Wayne." What a smart ass!
"Wayne what?"
"Wayne Flower."
"Where you live?"
"Boise, Idaho."
"Who you stayin' with?"
"Friend down the street."
"Obviously, they don't do this kind of stuff in Boise, do they?"
"Guess not."
"Well, for future reference, you don't just walk up to somethin' like this, specially when it's the Sherriff's Department." In retrospect, it was wise advice for a naive young man.

Eventually, they let me pass. I ran into Scott standing outside, looking rather stunned. Apparently, when the cops pulled the men over, they had used a blaring loudspeaker and Scott thought they were speaking to them and he stood there with his hands in the air, freaking out. We played videos (Mario Brothers, Golf, Wrestling) and body-surfed. '...I think we've pretty much worn out our welcome here..."
I forget exactly how, but Pat got us a show in Arizona. For the life of us, we couldn't get a show in LA, getting on the Descendents show there was a no-go. Young Wayne recalls, "Here we are back in LA. Last night we were SUPPOSED to play a gig on Arizona. The plan was to play this show with the Dehumanizers & cruise back to here, hang out 'till Tuesday [heeyyy... ; ] go play our show with AOD [Adrenaline Over Dose] in Santa Barbara. Well, it didn't work out that way. We left here yesterday, after an evening of hell spent in a tequila bottle...'

What followed was a fight between Scott and Erik, prompted by some awful farts Scott was letting while laying in a sleeping bag on the floor. I had to step between them. Tensions get thick, often, amongst young dudes on the road, especially headstrong ones.

We drove to Phoenix the next morning. I note it was '$80 worth of gas' from Phoenix to LA!! (Oh man, how times have changed!). We found the gig promoter's apartment complex. The guy (Scott) told us the show was cancelled! He said the Dehumanizers had come by that morning. He had, or so he said, called Dave Portnow a week prior and told him that he couldn't afford the hall. At that point, '...we decided not to deal with Dave at all anymore.'

Promoter Scott let us in and we lazed around his huge apartment while he tried to scare up a party we could play at, and he ordered us some pizza. He told us that he could get us on a 'God Core' show (Christian hardcore, which was on the rise then) and he said "Yeah, I'm into it. You may have noticed by my books..."

We were beat from the drive so we all crashed out on the floor. Promoter Godcore Scott was watching evangelists on his TV as we slept; ' ...I woke up with a cramp in my foot and an evangelist in my mind.' Then, '... [Promoter]Scott was rappin' about the Lord. He wasn't pushin' it or nothin'. We had agreed to the Godcore show, but it never happened.


We found out the promoter of our Phoenix, Arizona show was into Godcore. It just didn't make sense to us, Godcore, but we rolled with it. Problem was, the guy lied to us about us being on the bill. And we had driven there from LA. Not very God-like.


Rockpile Records show with AOD

AOD was a pretty cool punk band and we got a great show with them at a record store in Santa Barbara, CA (where Pat had gone to college). The store moved aside the records and we played in the middle of the store. I remember it being one of our best shows on the tour. Our hosts drove to the show. We had a tight set, people responded well. The other band on the bill was a band called 'Half Life' who I was not impressed with (I was such a little snob!). AOD, on the other hand, was 'hot'.





Above: Adrenalin OD LP that was out during the time SOC played with them in Santa Barbara, CA. Right: Pic of the band around the same time. Below: A flyer from the Boise AOD show. They were great live.


We had hooked up with a girl we knew from Boise who lived in Oxnard, [who will be known here as 'T-']. We had arranged to stay at her place. She lived with two other 'chicks', one of whom I thought was cute '...at this point if I see any female I think she is cute, but C- really is...' The evening consisted of playing quarters with T- and one of her room mates. Later, Erik somehow talked one of T-'s roommates into posing for some photos. 'They didn't get any nude shots. I guess they got a good shot of Ted lickin' her ass..' Mind you, this was all in fun, not porn! Then everyone got it into their drunken heads to get nude shots of us! We did one shot where we all have our pants around our ankles and are tucking in our 'jewels'. Somebody has those historic shots.

T- called us and said that her scooter got a flat and she was '...across from some Mexicans so she wanted us to go get it...' So we drove there and got her scooter [and what is ironic here is that one of us was of Mexican descent], and on the way back we got a flat! I remember it was right on the side of a really busy road and changing the tire was really sketchy, and Erik was doing it with no shoes on. Yes, as I have said; dirtbag punkers.

The Descendents 'FinALL' Show

We all (our LA hosts included) went to the first of many to come 'final' shows of the Descendents (though they did eventually end and morph into ALL, who are still around today, I believe). The show was at a huge LA venue called 'Fenders' (I have no idea if it is still around, so much from those days is now gone) There were tons of people there, and it of course was on my mind that I could have been playing bass that night with the Descendents. But I had no regrets about my decision.

I actually ran into Bill Stevenson (drummer for the Descendents) he was chatting with some folks, I waved and said hi, and he looked at me and simply nodded hello, then completely ignored me. It seemed odd, possibly he didn't recognize me. I don't really know the guy, but maybe he wasn't used to people saying no to him. This is, of course, all conjecture on my part.

There were many skinheads present (this was the tail end of the times when they had reached greater numbers in the bigger cities). They were very intimidating, and none of us joined the thrash pit (Pat may have, or Scott, I'm not sure). There was a huge thrash circle, people actually 'skanking', a sort of parading ape march, arms and legs swinging up and down, slowly, with a defiant air, that I think started in England at the skinhead shows.

Descendents 'final' show (one of a few)

I will close with Young Wayne (now a completely separate entity than I, since writing these blog entries) and his memories (oh so much fresher than Middle-Aged Wayne's) of the gig. But first, another funny snippet of my wide-eyed Boise Boy impressions of big city traffic;

'…that's the thing about LA – millions of freeways, all of them full of cars all the time. At certain times of day it can take like three hours just to get across town…"
"…we stood outside in the ticket line so we missed them [the first band] turned out that we didn't have to [wait to get in] we were on the [guest] list. The place is so fucking huge, with a bar and everything. Next up was Capital Punishment. They were fuckin rad. They play intense thrash. The vocalist has a distinctive growl. They have a chick bass player with long black hair. She makes these weird expressions. She seemed like a witch, kind of. Turns out she's 34 years old. The drummer's way rad, so's the guitarist, he's got silver hair cut into kind of a mowhawk. He's 37! [so funny to read at age 42!] We talked to them later, their [they're] real cool. We even ran into them at the beach the next day. Next up was Social Unrest. They have two guitars and they tore it up. I've always liked their records…Only a few fights broke out. One dude even pulled a knife right behind us. Once during the Descendents I felt someone kicking me in the ass. I turned around to see two skins rolling around on the floor. One of them was struggling to get up and in the process was kickin' me…MIA's set isn't even worth mentioning other than that it was incredibly boring [such a rude young man!]. By the time the Descendents were up everyone was all fired up. Most everyone got on the floor. Everyone fully got into it & they ripped. It was weird seeing it and knowing I could be playing up there…Anyhow it was a lot of fun.'

We had planned on making the rest of the trip split into 3 days and headed to Zion National Park in Utah. There is a funny sentence, both in and out of context, and in light of Pat's beacon-holding persona in the band; 'Pat drove us to Zion.'

The truly beautiful Zion Park in Utah

It was $5 to camp so we decided against that and planned on hitting another national park and just hang out. And then it all changed while Young Wayne dozed (a rare thing, as I have said, for me to sleep in a moving van). 'I was asleep when the engine blew. We were 30 miles outside of a place called Green River, Utah…' Green River, Utah ended up being our home for the next few days, and a famous chapter in the life of SOC.


Next up; The Green River Utah Blow Out, and Wayne's first last gig.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Music History, Part 11: The Early Boise Years 1986 to 1987

Originally appeared on My Space, September 7th, 2008

Disclaimer:
Memory is a funny thing, and an elusive one. Meaning; I might have some of this wrong, as 1. my memory is not always accurate, like anyone and 2. it is from my perspective only. Any friends who were there, feel free to correct me or add things I have missed. It helps! Also, no gossip on anyone here, it ain't about that. Personal details are on a surface level, and friends, girlfriends and others are re-named to respect their privacy. People in bands generally put their names out there on albums and in interviews anyway, and are not in the habit of staying anonymous, and therefore are named here. That said, anyone who is in the blog that wishes me not to use their name has only to ask.

All Apologies and Apologies All,

Apologies for the massive gap in entries since my last Music History blog entry. I was gearing up for the 3,000 mile move I just completed. After quitting my job, I towed my belongings and my car, with an 18 year old cat as a co-pilot (God rest him; he passed just after arriving). I also have to apologize for 'false advertising' end of the last entry, as, once I read more of the journal, I realized that I had far more to cover before what I listed. This blog has become a monster! Now that the momentum has begun…it cannot be stopped! I also realized I need to publish these in more digestible chunks, based on feedback from friends and family.




Me and my dear departed boy Noose, making a 3,000 plus mile journey across the country from Boston to Portland, my new home (for 3 years as of this blog transfer) Photo taken in 2008


The Cruel Desert That Spawned Us Calls Us Home - SOC's 1987 Tour; A perilous journey, Part II: California.
Pit stop in Spud Town before the 'Boise Hillbillies' head to La La Land


I suppose the first bad sign that things were 'going South', (either literally or figuratively, take your pick) on this tour was that when we passed through Boise on our way to California, I discovered that my roommate was moving out on me while I was away. I had no idea.

I arrived at my apartment to the roomie's packed boxes, her crazed white kitten (he comes back into the story later on, one 'Skully the Cat') and her frickin' iguana, chillin' on the window sill. Yep. WTF? What the hell was I supposed to do? I would have to figure it out later, that was sure.



One of my room mates' pals who awaited me when SOC made a pit stop in Boise on tour was an iguana (not this one). My room mate, however, was moving out, to my surprise

We re-stocked on merchandise and hit the trail to CaleefornIA, yeeee-haw!! Before going to SF to play at the famous venue, 'The Farm' (which, if memory serves me, and it rarely does, was run by the same folks who did Maximum Rock n' Roll magazine) [actually, current research I have done says that The Farm was a community center, so more likely what happened was that Maximum R&R simply ran the show at the center] we were heading back to Salt Lake to play a show at a joint called 'Alice's', a punk/artist arcade/cafĂ© downtown that hosted many cool shows. On the way there, we played a show with the Twin Falls band we had just played with in Boise, the aforementioned Farm Days (and no, I didn't plan the double farm reference in one paragraph, here…S'one a them whattyacallits, coinkydinks).


The Twin Falls show stands out in my memory, we played in this park right by the falls. When we arrived, the Dehumanizers were playing a 'blues fusion' set, and I was again very impressed with the guitarist, Lonnie King (whom I have mentioned, and who comes back into the story years later).


There were only about 15 people there, but it was a cool setting to play punk rock in, for sure. However, our set was short-lived as, per my journal, "…we played for about 10 minutes when the park officials stopped us. So we headed to the old drummer for Farm Days' house (Andy) and hung out. It was a ragin' party. We were trying to go to some hot springs but were stopped by the Twin Pigs who sent us away. Later, everyone went to a hotel swimming pool [a common Idahoan activity, at the time, amongst the broke young punks and such]…The next day we headed for Salt Lake…"


Next up in the record is stopping by Raunch Records then we went to a coffee house where the bass player for the Potato Heads worked and '…drank cappuccino & rapped with this derelict bum. He was a big old dude with a grisly beard & a backpack & sleepin' bag with a plastic bottle tied to it [at the time, I had not been exposed to many homeless people, thus my bothering even noting this obvious detail]. He was fucking weird, lemmie tell ya. He came up to us and started telling us that Communism would never survive in this country & shit. Later he was saying how rock n' roll would never die-that Woody Guthry [Guthrie] showed him how to play guitar, later that Joan Baez & Momma [Cass] showed him…[never finished this thought, I assume, it was 'how to play guitar as well?]' that he was in CCR and every other fucking 60's band in the world…' Young Wayne also noted that "…Everyone that was there [Alice's] in the late afternoon was lost in the 70's…[and] "…the owner looked like a brown-haired Howard Hughes…"

We played with a band called 'Burial Benefit', and we apparently had the best slot (it's always third slot, aye?) and there were 'tons of kids' who got into it and we made $125 (good payment at the time), and were off to SF. We stopped in Reno (home to 'Skeeno Hardcore' started by the singer Kevin Seconds and his straight-edge band '7 Seconds') and got some cheap breakfast, played some slots.




Left and Right, the band 7 Seconds from Reno Nevada, led by the charismatic Kevin 'Seconds'

The 'Reno Transmission Tour'

After this, the first dark cloud; our transmission started acting funny and wouldn't shift right, so we hit 'Reno Transmission' (we later dubbed this part of the tour the 'Reno Transmission Tour' because of this). The mechanic said it would cost $500, which sucked, but we had to make a decision because we stood to miss possibly the biggest show on that leg of the tour in SF. We went ahead and it was $460. We were told that it was a '$600 job'. Young Wayne says "Yeah RIGHT!".

We killed time in a pizza joint (that I list as 'Straw Hat Pizza') and called David Portnow (owner of our label, Sub Core) to hit him up for some money but he was '…in the shower or somethin'…'


Later, some 'dude at a skate shop' told us he knew a chick who knew all the punks in town, and since we were there anyway, we should try and play a party or something.
I headed to the mall to try and scare up some local punk kids and found some but "…the young uns were idiots…" I gave up on them and headed back, where there was a '…stocky black dude and a huge Eskimo-lookin guy. The black dude came up and asked 'Who are you?' (gee, did we stand out, or what?).


I told him who we were and he introduced himself as Daniel (and informed us that he used to roadie for the band Entropy) and his big Eskimo friend was 'Bear'. Daniel told us there was someone trying to set up something for us at the skate shop.


We went to a record store to meet the girl trying to set all this up and she told us that '…Skeeno HC [hardcore] was a 'Kevin Seconds dream'. That the scene was split. That everyone hated each other.' The girl gave us a phone number, got yelled at by her boss, so we left to wait for the transmission to be done.


Once it was fixed, we drove to Yosemite and camped there. '…We hung there, rolled cigarettes, played cards & read & shit until we got bored & skated down this hill tryin' to scam on this hot tub we'd seen. I fell on my knee, it sucked. No tub. We soaked our hair ['in what?', asks Older Wayne].We all slept in the van. It was tight. I guess I was thrashin' around kicking Scotty in the face. Oh well…'


La La Land, and seeing under the veil…

Strangely, there is no entry in my journal on the SF show, but it did happen, I remember it clearly. The scene was in sort of a downturn after a recent swell, so it was not heavily attended, but still fun to play. People were real cool.

A friend from the Boise scene had moved to LA recently and we were staying with him and his wife, a woman from Boise, they had married and moved West to 'La La Land'. They lived in a modest one bedroom apartment in Torrance. It was very cool of them to allow us to stay (I am sure they did it begrudgingly…I would have!).

We showed up at their door and apparently our friend's wife hadn't been informed of our arrival, as I note that she was 'surprised to see us'. I remember this as being very awkward, but she was nice, considering.


We hung out at their apartment (while they worked) played video games, hit the beach, drank beer and relaxed. Pat made many calls, trying to get us a show, we hadn't been able to line one up and just went their assuming we could there (ah, the young!). We '…got a chance to get on this Descendents, Social Unrest, Capitol Punishment show [all top bands, at the time, in the genre] next week. This one band might cancel. We're awaiting word…'


Descendents show in LA (the first of a few 'final' shows) that we attended after failing to get on the bill last minute (there was a slight chance)


We were also hoping to get on a bill for a small show on Melrose Ave that the Dehumanizers said they were not going to play. We went down to where the club was early, skateboarded around the hood, ate hotdogs at Pinks.


This was my first view of the true nature, the underbelly, of glorious Hollywood, California; '…This part of town is fuckin' dirty – the air is thick. We found the Anti Club [where the show was to be] It was closed. All barred up like all the closed joints….and…'Some places even buzz for each customer. When you see the scum walking around you know why…' We went back to the club later and saw the Dehumanizers' van. Young Wayne jokes; '…FUCK! How DARE they show up at their own gig!'


It is fascinating for me to read my own words, as a young man seeing the world as it really is for the first time; '…We went cruising down Sunset & Hollywood [Sunset in Hollywood? More likely Hollywood Blvd.]It's weird seeing the places you always see on T.V. & see it as it really is dirty scummy with people floating above it on tons of money, & others swimming in their own shit. We saw a 6 wheeled limo. We saw leatherfaced bums. It was heavy, man…'


Stay tuned for more adventures of dirtbag punks away from home, next entry.