The book features several chapters written by John Doe, interspersed with single-chapter reminiscences from many other luminaries from the L.A. punk rock scene of the late 70s, including his bandmate and ex-wife Exene Cervenka, Jane Wiedlin and Charlotte Caffey of the Go-Gos, Henry Rollins of Black Flag, Mike Watt of the Minutemen and Dave Alvin of the Blasters. I thoroughly enjoyed the entire book, but the penultimate chapter from writer Kristine McKenna (one of the first mainstream journalists to chronicle the early L.A. scene) really sums things up nicely:
By the time the Sex Pistols released their first single, “God Save the Queen,” in May of 1977, the LA scene was already percolating, so we found our way to the mountain without a map. We weren’t copying anybody else, and from the start there were things that distinguished LA’s punk scene from the scenes in other cities. The first generation of LA punk was literate and really smart, for starters, and each band had its own sources of inspiration. Much of the punk that came in its wake wasn’t very smart at all, nor was it particularly original. A tremendous amount of diversity coexisted under the rubric of early LA punk too, and there was a surprising degree of parity between men and women—it was not a sexist scene, and women were treated as equals. Latinos and gays were welcome too, as were old people: your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? It was that way for a brief spot in time.
Later, she points out a key difference between a “scene” back then and now:
All kinds of people materialized, and anybody who’d gone to the trouble of showing up had a right to be there. It took a while for all this to start cooking, though, which brings me to the scourge known as social media. LA’s first punk community took a while to get up to speed because things didn’t “go viral” then. The jungle drum of word-of-mouth was how information got around, and measured against the lightning speed information travels today, LA’s first punk community coalesced at a glacial pace. People had to physically be in rooms together and talk to one another to learn about things then, and that world was intimate and tactile and visceral in a way texting can never be.
And I loved the way she described the innocence and optimism of youth:
We’re all like trees, and the leaves that are the people we love flutter to the ground one by one. Time is a brutal, devouring force, and until it’s begun to do its handiwork, it’s impossible to comprehend how very beautiful it is to be young, how privileged and innocent it is. You may think you know the score when you’re twenty-four years old, but you never do, for the simple reason that you can’t: life lobs curveballs that are unimaginable at twenty-four. We believed we were dangerous and subversive back in the day, but in fact, we were babies, yet to rub the fairy dust from our eyes. Time takes a heavy toll on ideals, and looking back, it all seems unbearably idealistic and sweet.
She does end on a redemptive note:
So the scene is gone, and many of the people who created it are gone too, and I suppose that’s how it’s meant to be. Great art is immutable and eternal, though. I recently attended an X show where I watched young people—yes, they were young—crowding the lip of the stage, mouthing the words to “White Girl” and “Year One.” The music continues to mean something to those who need it, and those who need it will continue to find it.
If you’re an oldster like me who enjoyed (and still enjoys) bands like X, The Blasters and The Minutemen, this book is definitely worth a read.
David Prowse (drums/vocals) and Brian King (guitar/vocals) of Japandroids
I love this guitar-and-drums duo from British Columbia, and thought their last album, Celebration Rock, was a pure, unadulterated burst of brilliance and the best album of 2012. (If you disagree, you’re wrong.)
The new album showcases a more expansive sonic palette, but it still rocks. Put your ears on it now, and pick up Near To The Wild Heart Of Life when it comes out on January 27th.
It’s hard to type the words “Craig Finn played my living room last night” without feeling like I’m writing a work of fiction. Craig Finn… theCraig Finn. Lead singer of The Hold Steady. He was in my living room last night, playing an acoustic set, taking questions from the 60+ people who were crammed into the living room, craning their necks from the dining room, peering around the corner from the front hallway, angling for a better view from the stairs.
I could gush for hours, nay, days, about how amazing it was, and what a brilliant singer/songwriter/poet Craig is. But mostly what I’m feeling today (besides a bit tired) is grateful.
Grateful for Craig Finn… for sharing his words and music with us. For opening up his heart and baring his soul.
Grateful for Craig’s faithful fans, who came not just from the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky area, but from hundreds of miles away… from Louisville and Lexington and Indianapolis and all points in between. To a person, they were fun, kind and gracious.
Grateful for my wife, who didn’t bat an eye when I told her merely a week ago that we’d be hosting Craig’s gig, and that more than 40 strangers would be coming into our humble abode. We’ve been married long enough that she’s used to my off-the-beaten-path, indie rock music tastes, my trips to way more concerts than a 52-year-old father of four should be attending… but hosting a living room concert takes it to a whole new level.
Grateful that many of my music-loving friends were able to attend. We come from all walks of life, but music is our common bond, and it’s always more fun to share a show with other aficionados.
Grateful for a chance to see an amazing musician in a one-of-a-kind setting.
“Even if you don’t get converted tonite you must admit that the band’s pretty tight.”
“There’s all kinds of reasons people go to a rock club. It’s not always to listen to the music. To do a living room show with new material where it’s just me and a guitar, people are there to hear it. And they haven’t heard the songs before, so it’s nice that the lyrics are able to cut through. They’re able to understand it in a way they wouldn’t be able to with a loud rock band in a different environment.
On a more political level, the way we communicate through the internet, and the fake news that’s come up in the past year, getting people together in a room is more and more important. I think that’s how things move forward – getting together in real time.”
My friends and I, just hanging out with Craig from Edina on a Wednesday night.
Long-time blog readers (all three of them – Hi Dave, Jacqui and TC!) might recall that a few weeks ago I threw my hat into the ring as a potential host for a Living Room Tour show by Craig Finn. (Original post is here.) Craig is the lead singer of The Hold Steady, one of my faves, and his solo stuff is pretty tasty too.
His third solo album, We All Want The Same Things is due out March 24th (and now available for pre-order with bonus goodies here). Here’s the first track off the new album:
About a week after I volunteered our home as a concert venue (without telling my wife – “better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission” right?), I got a rejection email from the company organizing the tour. No harm, no foul. I still bought a ticket to the show, which was supposed to be at an art gallery about five minutes from my house.
This afternoon, I got this email:
Yes, he misspelled my name… but wait, there’s more, he sent a follow-up email two minutes later:
Do you even have to ask what my reply to their request was?
So, one week from today, Craig Finn (and 40 or so of my new best friends) will be filling Casa de Dubbatrubba with music and merriment. I can’t wait. Join us if you’re a fan and you can make it.
A new year means 365 new opportunities to connect (with other human beings, not with your smartphone).
Singer-songwriter (and Gilmore Girls town troubadour) Grant-Lee Phillips recently sent a nice note to all those on his mailing list, and I thought a couple of excerpts were well worth sharing.
“A renewed commitment to compassion.” Yep, that’s a darn fine resolution from a darn good performer.
Kevin Sullivan on Warren piece: “Praise Warren. He also said, “You only have to do a very few things right in your life so long…” Jan 15, 08:48
Damian on Eternally Grateful… still: “Thanks for reading, and thanks for sharing that song, Chuck! You’re absolutely right that the Deadhead community is amazing.” Jan 15, 08:17
Chuck Wiggins on Eternally Grateful… still: “I’m ambivalent at best about the Grateful Dead’s music, but there’s no discounting the incredible community built around it. And…” Jan 14, 09:05
Kevin Sullivan on Spoken and Unspoken: “You lived the brotherhood Damian, and that is a full plate. Peace to you and peace to John.” Nov 18, 16:54
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