Show Time

BEYOND AND BACK: WAR STORIES AT THE ROXY

Roxy Theatre, Los Angeles, USA - 7th October 2018

By Matt Powell - Photos by Dianne Carter
This is no place
To be addicted
To another pace

Only the occasional green-haired weirdo or leather dominatrix crawls along the Sunset Strip and into the Roxy Theatre this night, their scant numbers a faint reminder of a time when the streets of Hollywood were flooded with freaks peacocking their membership in a special, sacred order.
A glorious sunset sprawls across the October sky, orange and pink and baby blue, so clean and bright. Like the emerging poshness of the new Sunset Strip itself, it is almost too pretty for tonight.
Such is the modern world.
And in some ways the modern world hovered over the event held within the Roxy’s black walls Sunday evening. War Stories is just as described: "Tales of ‘70s and ‘80s punk mayhem told by the perpetrators themselves." Seated across the Roxy stage where so much sweat and blood and beer was spilled, eight seminal musicians and documentarians sat on folding chairs (the audience did as well — folding chairs in the Roxy!) and shared tales of the vibrancy and debauchery of Los Angeles’ brief but bright punk days.
This was the second War Stories evening, following a February appearance at El Cid featuring a slightly different lineup. The ringleaders are Pleasant Gehman and Theresa Kereakes, who co-founded the punk fanzine Lobotomy in 1978 combining Kereakes’ photography, Gehman’s high school typing class skills, and a shared limitless lust for punk life.   
Sunday’s Roxy show featured Gehman, Kereakes, Abby Travis (THE GO-GO'S, THE LOVEDOLLS, KFMDM) Chip Kinman (THE DILS, RANK AND FILE), Dave Catching (THE MODIFIERS, TEX & THE HORSEHEADS, EAGLES OF DEATH METAL), Jennifer Finch (L7), Mike Watt (MINUTEMEN), and Flea. 
It was an event steeped in nostalgia and remembrance of a movement born from a rejection of traditional norms. Yet there was a pervading reminder that this could simply never happen again.
As with all scenes (musical, artistic or otherwise) you had to be there. War Stories was designed to celebrate a vibrant and now-dead scene that took place in a particular window of time in a particular place among a nebulous but ultimately limited group of participants.
In a tradition as old as recorded history, one purpose of such remembrances is the passing on of what once was for those who weren’t there, in the hopes that some part of the way the people on this stage and their cohorts lived their lives and made their art can seep a little into the consciousness of younger generations.
The crowd, mostly, seemed to have been there, peppered with a few of the young and hip and curious: those who can never know the feeling of sneaking into a club with a bad ID, or no ID (barcode technology makes that impossible now. Travis observed how the crackdown on underage club-going in Los Angeles really began in earnest with the arrival of the 1984 Olympics, a seminal moment that split Los Angeles into the clearly defined pre and post), or of wandering rows of cars in Hollywood parking lots looking for an unlocked Cadillac in which to fornicate, fog the windows for a few minutes, and be gone before the owner, none the wiser, returned (everything is locked today and cameras capture all). There were stories of crash pads like Gehman’s infamous Disgraceland left unlocked for days or weeks on end, or landlords removing apartment doors altogether in a futile attempt to get Flea and his deadbeat degenerate cohorts to vacate.
Before technology and ubiquitous surveillance, one could get away with all manner of crazy shit.
Kereakes, who self-identified as "punk rock’s designated driver," pulled these seemingly hedonistic remembrances together into a poignant observation: her and her merry band were virtually, if not literally, unemployable. While many see punk as a movement of destruction, in Los Angeles’ first wave at least, it was an artistic movement of creation and, perhaps unintentionally to some, of entrepreneurship.
"We had to rely on word-of-mouth, calling people on the phone, talking to them at social gatherings and making the commitment to be somewhere at a given time and place," says Kereakes. "Once you left the house, you expected someone to show up. Your only recourse was to find a payphone. We were analog and happily so. We were entrepreneurs and didn't realize it. We invented a new way of doing business."

Who were these punks? Some were freaks and wannabes and hangers on, for sure. There were drunks and junkies and dropouts and dealers. There were musicians foremost. And there were scribes and photographers, or fans and scenesters who were addicted to the energy and had access to a Xerox machine. It didn’t matter; collectively they built an infrastructure faced with the dual rejection of and rejection by mainstream society. They built their own magazines, record labels, bands, and even venues (Many punk clubs began as Chinese restaurants. Chip Kinman recalled an early DILS gig at a pizza parlor in Garden Grove). "If you’re in a band you’re an entrepreneur whether you like it or not," Kereakes observed.
It was a time of total freedom and lack of judgement, of unfettered creativity born from the cultural desert of 1970s Los Angeles. Bands as seemingly disparate as THE GERMS, THE BLASTERS and BLACK FLAG shared bills and, eventually, fans. There was diversity of style, of presentation, and of influence. "I think that without being the ‘politically correct police’ we were a much more accepting group," says Kereakes. "We were misfits and outcasts to begin with and that was our bond. We appreciated other weirdos and their output, their lifestyle, their fashion. Although, if someone was displaying bonafide unacceptable behavior, we would most definitely call them out."
Flea, the baby of the group (along with Finch), recalled his initial disinterest in the punk scene that was flowering in Hollywood. Flea explained that, although he was a troubled kid with a drug problem, musically he was into jazz and classical at the time, and punk seemed to him like "another thing with an arbitrary set of rules." But then he saw a FEAR show while on acid, and shortly thereafter auditioned for the band when it was announced they had fired bassist Derf Scratch. Flea got the FEAR gig and his friends, including many sharing the stage this night, celebrated with an 18-day party because one of their own had actually joined a "real band."
As with Angeleno R and B, blues, jazz and, to a certain extent, country music, Los Angeles’ indigenous punk music has always been given short shrift by unapologetically ignorant eastern critics. (This phenomenon continues into the present day with regular, unintentionally hilarious articles from New York based writers failing, or even trying, to grasp Angeleno culture.) London claimed punk’s origins and New York claimed the higher artistic ground. What did a bunch of pretty kids in the land of sunshine railing against their perceived petty problems have to say?
But to dismiss Los Angeles punk is to miss the point of Los Angeles altogether, ground zero of the detective novel and film noir — a bright and guilty place where dark things happen in harsh light. Gehman has written about the two Hollywoods that existed at the time, one of the Tinsel Town Dream Factory, and the other of her Hollywood Boulevard: "a seedy carnival midway... its pink-and-black granite "Walk of Fame" was dull and littered with beer cans, used condoms, and fast-food wrappers and dotted with spit and chewing gum."
There is a kind of surrealism in the juxtaposition of these outcasts carving their way in a company town where Old Hollywood was ageing but still very much alive. Gehman recalled smoking a joint with Tony Curtis. Catching, who briefly held a legitimate vocation as a pizza delivery driver, recalled delivering pizzas to stars like Anthony Perkins.
The very unique nature of Los Angeles, and Hollywood specifically, helped shape and fuel the theatrics and debauchery and tone of the scene. "The intersection of Old Hollywood, film noir, bright sunshine and punk rock is what gave L.A. punk and new wave its distinctive personality," says Kereakes, "just as every town imprints itself on its art."
So what if L.A.’s punk scene was born from relatively harmless kids making noise from no deeper motivation than their own boredom and an urge to party until the days change at night, change in an instant. Surely there is no more noble a deed than creating something from nothing. Locked out of the stale Hollywood establishment, these latchkey kids chose to build their own empire out of nothing more than their energy, some safety pins, and rudimentary typesetting skills as a testament to the great Angeleno tradition of invention and reinvention.
Sunshine be damned.
The prevailing theme of the night, reinforced from all who spoke, was the sense of true community. The community was healthier, more vibrant and robust in a time before social media. Camping out for concert tickets was social media. The level of superficial connectivity in the 21st century has killed the ability of true local scenes to develop.
"You had to be engaged in real life, not virtual life, on an interpersonal level, face to face," says Kereakes. "Scenes could grow and develop in their own world on their own timeline, organically."
Another theme that emerged is that the participants, despite the blur of endless parties and mayhem, knew at the time that they were a part of something special. Even as it was unfolding, musicians and scenesters alike were cognizant of which bands were "first wave," (Flea mentioned the SCREAMERS, an early L.A. punk band who never made an official recording, calling them "the Buddy Bolden of punk rock," a reference to the pioneering New Orleans jazz cornetist whose music was never captured on wax) versus "second wave," (quintessential L.A. punk band, X) and the skeptical "new wave" (Mike Watt recalled an existential crisis on a pivotal night when he was forced to choose between X opening for DEVO in Long Beach or the GERMS at the Masque. He chose the GERMS).  

Despite the name of the event, and the accessory baggage that comes with the term "punk," the war stories this evening weren't especially deranged. Some petty crime, sure. Lots of booze and drugs and public sex. But these hi-jinx seem almost quaint from today’s vantage.
The evening was nostalgic, but it was funny, charming and in some ways inspiring. Perspective is a funny thing. Looking back at a wild burst of energy and art, of the perfect people in the perfect place at the perfect time, one is faced with both the thought that it can never be duplicated and the thought that it should never be. It is up to the artists of today to make their own way. The eight people on the Roxy stage this night proved you can build anything you want, so long as there is a will. Skills are helpful but not required. Don’t ask for permission. Don’t give anyone the opportunity to stand in your way. Just roll right through the noise and do your thing, and do it righteously. 
War Stories will continue, incorporating themed nights (the all-women "L.A. Woman" panel is in the works now) and the show plans to hit the road, featuring a regular lineup augmented by local punks wherever the stories may take them. While War Stories focus on the L.A. scene, punk was a universal explosion.
"Scenes developed a personality and identity that gave all the bands strength and power once one of them broke through," says Kereakes. "It gave long-time local fans of these bands ownership and a sense of family and community pride."

Show Time

Peter Murphy

PETER MURPHY - DAFFODILS - Powerstation, Auckland, New Zealand - 20th October 2018

Way back in early 1983, BAUHAUS played the Gaumont, a theatre in my old home town of Ipswich, England. I really enjoyed the songs I had heard by the band (ie: the singles) and wanted to go. However, aged just 13, my folks wouldn’t let me. I think the fact they looked a ‘bit scary’ was the reason as, within six months, I got to see THIN LIZZY and soon after that, HAWKWIND. Let’s face it, with the amount of drugs in the air at a HAWKWIND gig, my 13 year old frame was rendered a tad stoned just by breathing! Ha!! Anyway, I always had a grudge about not seeing BAUHAUS, a band I got into more as I got older.

Several years later, BAUHAUS vocalist PETER MURPHY announces some New Zealand dates. Snag was, I was in Melbourne, Australia where he was also playing - but not while I was there. Everything conspired once again to miss a live BAUHAUS set.

That is, until August this year when I heard that MURPHY was returning to New Zealand not only to play a set celebrating the 40th anniversary of BAUHAUS with a full rendering of the debut album, ‘In A Flat Field’, but he’d have original bassist David J in the band. Tickets booked for this one - third time lucky!

Daffodils

The Powerstation is a great venue, among the best I have ever been to in fact. Always good sound, good atmosphere and the procession of black-clad individuals certainly seemed comfortable as we awaited the arrival of the headline act.

First up however was a local band named, DAFFODILS. They played about half-a-dozen numbers and got a decent response. Think a fusion of jingle-jangle a’la THE SMITHS (maybe that’s where the band’s name came from as Morrissey always had daffodils hanging out of his arse) with the more boisterous pop dynamics of ICICLE WORKS. They didn’t do much for me, although the drummer was very good. Of the songs, the only one I can recall is the band’s latest single, ‘A Leo Underwater’.

As promised, PETER MURPHY delivered the entire ‘In A Flat Field’ album from start to finish, naturally kicking off with ‘Double Dare’ - and that thunderous, distorted bass sound of David J’s was stunning at such a volume. I’ve always heard a great deal of violence in the music of BAUHAUS - something that is frequently overlooked due to the minimalist (pre)Goth stylings. This was the proof I needed - a stunning sound aided by guitarist Mark Gemini Thwaite doing a decent job of Daniel Ash guitar noise and a stunning drummer in Marc Slutsky.

Peter Murphy band

‘In A Flat Field’ itself followed, keeping the intensity levels at a peak. MURPHY himself was in great form, that rich baritone loud and dominant. Now sporting a greying beard and balding pate, he looked a bit of a cat weasel-style character but still had a sense of intensity and regality about him. ‘The Spy In The Cab’ leaned on that stunning voice and MURPHY’s theatrical presence while the double hit of ‘St Vitus Dance’ and ‘Stigmata Martyr’ was one of the set’s highlights.

From there, it was one classic after another - ‘Burning From The Inside’, ‘Bela Lugosi’s Dead’ (which received the biggest cheer of the evening - although given Murphy's appearance, it could've been retitled 'Vincent Price's Dead'!), ‘She’s In Parties’ and a stunning, brutal finale of ‘Passion Of Lovers’ and ‘Dark Entries’.

David J

As good as the band and MURPHY himself was, it was David J, with those sublime bass lines that are so pivotal to the success of these songs, who made the show for me. MURPHY was also in very jovial form, stating that he was, "Harder than any man there, and more beautiful than any woman," and taking the piss out of the New Zealand "blokes".

Of course, given the level of performance and the rapturous crowd, an encore was inevitable. I wasn’t expecting a take on DEAD CAN DANCE’s ‘Severance’ however - as good as it was. Sensing the show was over, several made for the exit - big mistake! Returning again, MURPHY announced a Glam double header in the form of T.REX’s ‘Telegram Sam’ and DAVID BOWIE’s ‘Ziggy Stardust’ which was uplifting and laden with genuine emotion.

Quite an exceptional gig it has to be said - and way better than I thought it would be. I feared MURPHY maybe over weight (as opposed to his rather lithe physique) and worse, have a broken voice whilst trying to revisit himself from 40 years ago. Not so; instead we got a theatrical, witty performance that still had combustible, violent streaks about it and a voice that still senders shivers down the spine.

OK parents - you can now rest easy - my grudge is over!

Show Time

The Stranglers

THE STRANGLERS - RUTS DC - Town Hall, Auckland, New Zealand - 2nd February 2018
It’s been 31 years (yep - thirty one!!) since I last saw THE STRANGLERS - and that wasn’t even the first time! It was on the ‘Dream Time’ tour and they stopped in Ipswich. That was back when Hugh Cornwall was still in them. Hugh actually jumped in the crowd that night to pull a guy outta the audience who had been spitting at them. The guy had had a warning before letting another big greeny go, so Hugh jumped into the throng at the front of the stage at the Ipswich Gaumont and hauled the gobber onto the stage. The band then proceeded to take said gobber’s trousers and undies down, exposing his weener to all of us laughing and shouting Ipswich Punks! Then a banana was produced, peeled and stuffed on the gobber’s gonads, undies and trousers very roughly pulled up squishing the ‘nana and skin in his undies, before Mr. Gobber was given to the roadies!! That remains one of the most hilarious things I’ve ever seen at a show.
Anyway, I lost interest in the band after Hugh left; to me he was very intrinsic to the make-up of the band, even though musically they always pivoted around Dave Greenfield’s keyboards and that monstrous, pounding bass of JJ Burnel. This show was billed as the ‘Classic Collection’, which is pretty self-explanatory. So, with the added bonus of RUTS DC, I got my ticket and headed to a rain-soaked Auckland to see THE STRANGLERS for, what I had and still have no doubts about, the last time.

Ruts DC

I’d never been to Auckland Town Hall before. It’s a typical town hall theatre complete with balcony (which spans round virtually to the stage), good sound and over-priced beer. I mean, $9 for a bottle of fucking Heineken??!! Thankfully I managed to squeeze in a good few pints of Guinness in the pub beforehand, so the Heinie topped things off nicely.
All too soon, RUTS DC came on looking very dapper for a bunch of fellas who are probably very close to drawing their pension! The band’s last album, ‘Music Must Destroy’ is a total cracker and they launched with a track from that - ‘Surprise’. From there it was a totally classy performance of classic RUTS and tracks from that new album. It’d be pretty pointless saying what the highlights were as every track, ummm,... Destroyed. ‘Staring At The Rude Boys’, ‘West One’, ‘Music Must Destroy’, ‘Kill The Pain’, ‘Jah War’, ‘In A Rut’, ‘Babylon’s Burning’ and closer ‘Psychic Attack’. The only fault was the set was way too short.
These guys are seasoned, quality musicians. Drummer Dave Ruffy in particular didn’t drop a beat and played those old, complicated RUTS rhythms without fault. Both guitarist Leigh Heggarty and bassist Segs looked great too, often drawing in tight around the drum kit to really lock in. Segs also made the comment of the evening asking, with a distinct smirk, who was going to see the Foo Fighters the following night in some hideous stadium. Surprisingly, a lot (too many?) of the crowd were... “I shouldn’t be so cheeky should I?” was his reply!!
I was hoping for an encore - but alas no....

Ruts DC

So it was left to the other set of near-pensioners to try and follow that. Kicking off with the moody and magnificent ‘WaltzInBlack’, I had high hopes. Then I got the first of many songs during the night that I didn’t know. ‘Was It You’ appeared third from the ‘Dream Time’ album. It’s a track I always liked and was pleased to see its inclusion here - particularly with JJ sounding so impressive. The first real hit of the night though (and I mean sonic hit as well as hit single) was ‘(Get A) Grip (On Yourself)’ that saw that bass simply pound out and made all that went before it seem rather tame. From there we got a good number of the Classic Collection - ‘Hanging Around’, ‘Golden Brown’, ‘Walk On By’, ‘Always The Sun’, ‘Nice ‘n Sleazy’, ‘Nuclear Device’, ‘Tank’, ‘Go Buddy Go’ and most surprisingly, ‘Just Like Nothing On Earth’.
Hugh’s latest replacement, Baz Warne, did a fair sounding impression of him I concur, but that sense of intimidation that I’d always experienced at previous STRANGLERS gigs was noticeably lacking. Maybe it’s cuz I’m 31 years older too!! Dave did a stunning one-handed keyboard solo (I think during ‘Walk On By’) while drinking a beer (or water) before scrunching the cup and heading it away. It got one of the biggest cheers of the night and seemed to put the biggest of smiles on the collective face of the band. Incidentally, I didn’t realise drummer Jet Black had left the fold either.
My own personal favourite, ‘Duchess’ got aired (first STRANGLERS record I ever bought dontcha know!), ‘No More Heroes’ was part of the encore - and then they were gone.

The Stranglers

Classic Collection?? My arse was it!! No ‘Peaches’, no ‘Straighten Out’, no ‘Five Minutes’, no ‘Strange Little Girl’, no ‘Skin Deep’, no ‘Something Better Change’ let alone ‘Death And Night And Blood’ or ‘Dagenham Dave’. There were about 10 songs I didn’t know and while both ‘15 Steps’ and ‘Norfolk Coast’ were good (the former in particular), neither are ‘Peaches’.
I felt a bit unfulfilled on leaving. While the good bits were great (let’s face it, the good songs are fucking classics and they were played well), there’s no denying my attention wandered and that tension I always associated with the band had gone.
Yep, this was definitely the last time I’ll see THE STRANGLERS - unless, maybe, Hugh rejoins.

  

Show Time

ADAM ANT - DIANA ANAID - The Powerstation, Auckland, New Zealand - 9th October 2017
Back in 1980, aged a mere 11, I was quite an Ant Fan! I had all the singles but felt I needed more. So, one Saturday while shopping in town with my Mum, and after having saved my pocket money, I ended making the first album I ever bought ADAM AND THE ANTS’ ‘Kings Of The Wild Frontier’. It’s an album that has stayed in my collection ever since and it still sounds superb today, with those fantastic, tribal drums and Marco’s menacing guitar lead lines.
So, when I heard that ADAM ANT was going to be playing the album in full live (plus assorted hits) here in New Zealand, I had to go. I’ll admit I was a tad concerned at the idea of seeing a man in his early 60s try to relive the genuine ‘Pop Star’ status he had 35+ years ago, but reasoned with myself that ‘Kings....’ was the first album I ever bought, so attendance for me was pretty much mandatory.
Before the event, several friends in the UK said that ADAM was in fine form so my expectations were heightened - but I was still a tad apprehensive. Thankfully, The Powerstation is not just Auckland’s best venue, but among the best I’ve been to anywhere in the world (unlike the fucking Studio), so I knew sound and vision would be top notch. Merchandise proved ANT still has ‘Pop Star’ status however...$50 for a t-shirt, $60 for a signed photo... Pah! Lots of people were buying the shirts, and good on them for that. I passed.
With a beer lovingly nestled in my hand, I awaited the arrival of DIANA ANAID. Never heard of her before but apparently she’s from Australia and used to be known as Diana ah Naid and has released about half-a-dozen albums. It was just her and her guitar and, much as I love those solo singer-songwriter types, she pretty much passed me by. I remember a song called ‘I Go Off’ and one about same-sex marriage, but that was about it. Her vocals were a bit over-performed for me, although the guitar sounded good. However, I wanted to hear some Ant Music, not Alt-country music. 
The arrival of ADAM ANT and his band was met with an orchestral fanfare before the dual drumbeats of ‘Dog Eat Dog’ kicked in. While the two drums sounded bombastic, I noticed there was no original ANTS in the line-up, which was a disappointment. However, the band was top-notch, both looking and sounding good. ADAM bound on, hero’s reception and - by jingoes - sounded great!!

‘Ant Music’ and the rest of the ‘Kings....’ album followed. Highlights were certainly the album’s darker tracks - ‘Feed Me To The Lions’, the double hit of ‘Ants Invasion’ (a personal favourite) and ‘Killer In The Home’, along with the stunning title track and album closer ‘The Human Beings’.
With the album having been played, ANT finally decided to address the crowd. He’d made the odd cheeky suggestion during the album, but it wasn’t until it was complete that he finally addressed the crowd. I was anticipating about 30 minutes of the ‘obvious’ other hits but he kicked off the non-’Kings...’ set with a complete surprise - ‘Beat My Guest’, the b-side of the ‘Stand And Deliver’ single. It’s always been a fave track (and wafts stuff like ‘Making History’ and ‘Los Rancheros’ from ‘Kings...’) and it was played with total intensity. This second part of the set actually went on for over an hour with other highlights being ‘Friend Or Foe’ (another track that could’ve made ‘Kings...’ better) that saw the dual drumming really grab the attention with those tribal, tom heavy beats, a set-stealing ‘Xerox’, ‘Car Trouble’, ‘S.E.X’ and, of course, a set closing ‘Stand And Deliver’. ‘Prince Charming’ was played (not that effectively but it’s far from an ANT classic, even though it was a huge hit) and both ‘Strip’ and ‘Ant Rap’ could’ve been ditched in favour of ‘Young Parisians’ and ‘Kick’. Small criticisms really - but that’s my opinion. Encores were ‘Good Two Shoes’ and a monstrous, riff heavy blast through ‘Physical (You’re So)’ that singed the ears.
Have to say guitarist, Will Crewdson, made the absence of Marco a virtual bonus. He looked fucking fantastic (surely a pre-requisite for an Ant though!) and played a smoking guitar, be it those leads from ‘Kings...’ which sound almost Spaghetti Western(Ish), to heavy duty riffing and onto the dam-busting, STOOGES-esque guitar noise during ‘Phsyical’. He didn’t really put a foot wrong from what I saw AND he plays his guitar low - just like all the greats! The rest of the band were really on form too.
And ADAM? Yeah, he’s still got ‘it’ - whatever ‘it’ is. He wore the tunic for the ‘Kings..’ set (but not the white nose stripe) and looked great with longish hair, the ends of which appeared to be dyed red. His voice surely was not broken, he put in the hard work, could still move with the best of them and seemed genuinely enthused by the reception he got at his first ever New Zealand gig.
So, was I happy I went? Too right I was!! The dual drumming was spot on (plus the addition of two floor toms for additional tribal percussion!), the set list was massive, the performance passionate and the execution way better than I could have dreamed.
Still didn’t inspire me to buy a $50 t-shirt though!

Obituary - Grant Hart

On Wednesday 13 September 2017, Grant Hart - founder, drummer and vocalist for HUSKER DU, guitarist and vocalist for NOVA MOB and a renowned solo artist - passed away at University of Minnesota Medical Centre. The cause of death was terminal Liver cancer that he had been diagnosed with in recent months; he was also afflicted with Hepatitis C. He was 56.

Born on 18 March 1960 in St Paul, Minnesota, Grantzberg Vernon Hart was the youngest of his family, born to a mother who worked at a credit union and a teacher father, and attended South St. Paul High School. Aged ten, he inherited his brother’s (who was just two years older) drum set and records after he was killed by a drunk driver. During his high school years, Hart was in a cover band named TRAIN, playing keyboards.

On leaving school, he landed jobs at various record stores, including Cheapo Records where he worked with Greg Norton. It was at this shop that he met New Yorker, Bob Mould. The three went onto form HUSKER DU.

The history of this great and influential band (arguably, the most influential US band after the RAMONES) has been widely documented, from the blur of ‘Land Speed Record’, through to the groundbreaking ‘Zen Arcade’ double album and onto a major label deal with Warner Bros and the ‘Warehouse: Songs And Stories’ double album swansong. There’s been the book, Husker Du: The Story Of The Noise-Pop Pioneers Who Launched Modern Rock, the chapter in Michael Azerrad’s book Our Band Could Be Your Life and the extensive Husker Du Database - to name but three - so I won’t detail too much of this iconic band’s history.

However, it should be noted that besides writing and singing songs, he was also responsible for most of the band’s artwork. He also designed a number of other sleeves, notably fellow Minneapolisians, THE REPLACEMENTS and their album, ‘Hootenanny’.

During the band’s tenure, Hart developed a Heroin habit and was also incorrectly diagnosed as being HIV-positive in 1986, just as the band’s major label debut, ‘Candy Apple Grey’ was released. It is said that it was Hart’s drug addiction that lead to to the 1988 break-up of the band. That was no doubt partially true, but the feuding between Mould and Hart about who should retain most creative control was another major factor. Then the band’s manager, David Savoy, committed suicide. If that wasn’t enough, the fact that during the end of HUSKER DU, Hart had already got together a project named SWALLOWS no doubt indicated Hart’s dissatisfaction and rankled Mould's ire further.

Following HUSKER DU’s demise, Hart released the ‘2541’ EP in October 1988 - a mere six months following the split. This was followed early in 1989 with the ‘Intolerance’ album. Later the same year, he formed NOVA MOB, taking on guitar duties along with vocals. It was an often misunderstood band and its fortune was not aided when Rough Trade, the label that released the band’s 1991 debut album, the excellent ‘The Last Days Of Pompeii’, declared itself bankrupt on the very day the album was released.

A second NOVA MOB album was released in 1994 before the band split following a European tour. From then on, Hart continued to play intimate, career-spanning sets and releasing impressive solo albums, culminating in 2013 with the epic ‘The Argument’, a double album based on John Milton’s Paradise Lost and William S Burrough’s adaptation of the same book as Lost Paradise. In that same year, the feature length documentary ‘Every Everything: The Music, Life And Times Of Grant Hart’ was released.

At the time of his passing, Hart was working on another concept album about Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber, titled ‘Pop Manifestos’.

Hart is survived by his wife Brigid McGough Hart, his adult son Karl, granddaughter Grace and siblings Nett, Roxanne and Craig. 　

 

Putting into words the importance of Hart and his music is no easy task. I was fortunate to see HUSKER DU at the very end of their career - at the 1987 Glastonbury Festival no less. Sure, it wasn’t the ideal venue or the most intense period of the band’s existence but I felt, and still feel, very fortunate to have seen the band before they imploded.

It is without a doubt that of all the bands that were spawned by the US Hardcore boom, it was HUSKER DU that pushed the boundaries the most, be it the warp-speed of ‘Land Speed Record’, the influence of psychedelia as typified in what must be one of the best cover versions ever in the band’s take of THE BYRDS’ ‘Eight Miles High’, an unerring Pop sensibility often channelled through Hart’s uplifting vocal, through to the ultimate taboo of signing to a major label. 

Hart himself challenged the pack too - long-haired, usually barefoot, openly bisexual and in possession of a voice that could soar to the heavens. I had my own personal nickname for him: Mr. Golden Tonsils.

I was fortunate to see him live here in New Zealand in 2016 - and he was stunning. Classic song followed classic song and yes, those tonsils were still golden! I managed to have a conversation with him also - something I am profoundly grateful I did now. We spoke of that Glastonbury performance and the turd who threw a bottle - which exploded as it hit his vocal microphone. We spoke of NOVA MOB too, a band I also saw at the London Marquee in 1991. And, rather embarrassingly, I mentioned his 'golden tonsils'!

Hart’s passing is tragic on so many levels. Not only was he so young, but he was still stunningly creative. ‘The Argument’ could be his finest work in fact, laden with stunning songs and invention. I desperately hope the album he had near-completion when he passed will be released.

Go well Grant and always Shine, Shine, Shine....

Show Time!

The Damned

THE DAMNED - LEATHERHEAD - The Studio, Auckland, New Zealand - 8 March 2017

I thought my days of seeing THE DAMNED were pretty much done. After 35 sightings, the last of which was in my home town of Ipswich, I was set to call it a day. Then this 40th Anniversary World Tour is announced, along with a New Zealand date. How could I possibly refuse the band I’d seen that many times? I knew what to expect - which was minor disappointment but laced with great songs, a great vocalist and a few laughs. So, I bought me ticket to DAMNED 36.

I’d never been to The Studio before and, I have to say, it’s a shit venue. One big room with a narrow entry, crap sound and fucking $10 for a (small) bottle of beer!! If it’s competing with The Powerstation (Auckland’s best venue), it has a long way to go!!

Leatherhead

Waiheke Island locals LEATHERHEAD started things off and bored me. Imagine BEASTS OF BOURBON Garage Blues ballistics fused with COWS noise-Rock bluster and you’re kinda there but without being as genuinely unhinged as either band. The guitarist (who was in THE PHANTOM CHORDS along with Dave Vanian) had a great sound it has to be said. Of the songs, the only original I recall is something called ‘Bacon’ but, without a doubt, the highlight was a maniacal cover of VELVET UNDERGROUND’s ‘White Light, White Heat’. They left the stage with a few expletives and that was that.

It was a bit of a ramshackle start to DAMNED proceedings. Keyboard player Monty came on and, from that moment, was very nearly the star of the whole show leaping around, playing stellar keys, providing lots of laughs and a genuine enthusiasm I haven’t seen from someone in THE DAMNED since Bryn. That said, it’s THE DAMNED and no one gets to upstage Dave Vanian, who appeared sporting a straggly beard and a long, black gothic coat and looked, as always, magnificent.

Monty - The Damned

A few pleasantries from Captain were said and then the tinkling piano intro of ‘Melody Lee’ was played and it was into things - full throttle. A brilliant ‘Generals’ followed (surely the band’s most underrated song) and from there it was a set culled mainly from ‘Machine Gun Etiquette’ and ‘Strawberries’. Highlights were plenty: a thunderous ‘Love Song’, the double hit of ‘Black Album’ classics in ‘Wait For The Blackout’ and ‘History Of The World’ and the surprise inclusion of ‘Street Of Dreams’ which was dedicated to the late Bryn. Truly could’ve done without ‘Alone Again Or’ and ‘Eloise’... originals from that era would’ve been way preferential, but, certainly in the case of the latter, both songs were probably expected by those who discovered the band in their latter days. Never really liked ‘Noise Noise Noise’ much either...

Only two Brian Jones era tracks were played - the obvious ‘New Rose’ and ‘Neat Neat Neat’. Both tracks proved a couple of things: Capt can’t get anywhere near the cranked garage punk jams of Brian James and, as good as the current drummer is (and he is very good), he ain’t no Rat Scabies. You gotta remember that Rat was the best drummer of the ‘77 Punk era and would be Top Three drummers ever if there was any justice, so any one brave enough to steal his sticks and replicate his beats is on for a massive job. And yeah, those who get pissed off with ‘Neat Neat Neat’ being drawn out to epic lengths would’ve been pissed off again. I was. I’ve been seeing the band do this since about ‘88 if not earlier and it fucking irks me every time that one of the most urgent, adrenalin laced songs ever is nullified and morphed into an epic ‘moody’ rock workout. ‘Ignite’ was also drawn out into crowd participation leaves usually reserved for Bruce Springsteen and his ilk.

Captain Sensible - The Damned

Predictably ‘Smash It Up’ was saved for the encore (with Captain sporting a neat black and red stripy shirt a’la Dennis The Menace with ‘Smash It Up’ written across it). What was most unexpected and probably stole the gig for me was ‘Jet Boy Jet Girl’ - it even got me pogoing like I was fucking 15 again!!! Haha!! Another surprise was the second encore (by which time all the ‘Eloise’ listeners had left) of ‘Anti-Pope’ which was presaged by some anti-religious vitriol from Monty.

And that was that. All of ‘Machine Gun Etiquette’ was played (bar ‘Looking At You’), a clear half of ‘Strawberries’ and nothing from the band’s output post ‘Anything’. I was hoping for ‘Curtain Call’ as always, likewise ‘Thanks For The Night’ which I ain’t seen the band do since mid-80s I reckon, but alas no to both. A few of us tried to get the "Captain Is A Wanker" chant going but again, the ‘Eloise’ lovers seemed a bit confused.

After the gig I discovered my hearing was damaged - genuine long-term damage. It was brutally loud and that shit sound system didn’t help. A few weeks since the gig, the ears have cleared a bit but not the extent of being back to where they were prior to the gig. It’s kinda fitting THE DAMNED was the band to do the damage.

So, the big question is, will I see them for a 37th time or more? Well, if Rat and Brian James get back together with Dave and Captain again (unlikely now I know), I’ll be there.

Until there - I'll remain a member of The Limit Club and say over and out.... Probably!!

Show Time!

The Shit Talkers

SNFU - MODERN TERROR - THE SHIT TALKERS - The Venue, Vancouver, Canada - 20 August 2016

I literally heard about this gig the day before it happened, after only being in Canada for about three days. Considering The Venue was within walking distance of where I was staying (and thanks to the guys at the stellar Neptoon Records who gave me expert directions to the gig), it was a total no-brainer that seeing the legend that is SNFU in their home town was something I had to do.

Unfortunately, I’m writing this over a month after the actual event due to my successive travels after I left Canada. One thing I do recall is that The Venue is a great place to see bands. Probably holds about 700, has a great PA, a stage that could easily hold a seven-piece but without making a trio look lost and it has a bar on both sides of the room. SWANS was playing soon after I left unfortunately; I imagine they would be brutal in this kinda place.

Anyway, first on stage was THE SHIT TALKERS, a grungy Punk 5-piece made of four ladies and a dude in drag (at least, I hope it was a dude in drag!). I can’t recall song titles but remember a sound akin to an amped and Punked BREEDERS. The main singer had a few technical issues with her guitar but didn’t let it get the better of her. Was good to see a number of people had turned out to support the band too.

Modern Terror

A couple of beers down (there was some kinda Canuck beer on sale which was not only cheap, but pretty good too) and I was feeling that neat beer buzz that occurs just as the alcohol starts to kick in. Great timing too because on next came MODERN TERROR. The band is a trio and played a fusion of M.D.C.-style political Hardcore but with a Fat Wreck kinda twist. Throw a little THE ‘INBRED in there too and you’ve got it. Among titles I recall were the potent ‘Let America Burn’, ‘Boys In Blue’ and ‘First World Problems’. There was a bit of black humour too in ‘Junkie Punker Mom’ and the ode to blowing up Vancouver Island in ‘Let’s Bomb The Neighbours’. They had the heads of Hilary Clinton and Donald Trump on sticks (unfortunately, not the named persons real heads - THAT would’ve been fucking stunning!!) as part of the stage set and, best of all, the vocals were delivered with clarity - especially those of bassist Jamie Swann - which made the message of the songs that much more powerful. They were giving away CDs at the end of the gig too - yes I scored one and a review will be posted soon. A band that did everything right in my eyes... Looking forward to seeing what lays ahead for them.

SNFU

SNFU vocalist Mr Chi Pig had been wandering around the crowd for much of the gig, shaking hands and conversing with those he knew. Surely looked like time (along with drugs and hard living) had taken a bit of a toll on the guy. That said, when the band hit the stage, the jams they cranked hit all the right places.

I have to admit, I lost interest in the band a bit after the ‘Better Than A Stick In The Eye’ album from 1988 and that probably explained the reason that there were a bunch of songs I didn’t know. That said, the band nailed it pivoting around a monster rhythm section and a couple of guitarists who slammed out the riffs with serious ferocity. Songs? ‘You Make Me Thick’, ‘What Good Hollywood’ and the trio of classics from the debut album, ‘Broken Toy’, ‘She’s Not On The Menu’ and ‘Cannibal Cafe’ all could claim to be highlights. A little bit of a scuffle broke out and after the main set one of the guitarists grabbed the mic from Chi Pig and threw it to the floor... Pretty standard events for an SNFU gig, as were the beaming, sweaty faces at the end of the gig.

I picked up the SNFU biography written by Chris Walter and received a kiss on the ear from Mr Chi Pig after he signed it. Oddly, that seemed a fitting end to a blazing night of Canuck Punk Rock. 

Show Time!

Grant Hart

GRANT HART CONSPIRACY - BLACK SCIENCE - LOUD GHOST - King’s Arms, Auckland, New Zealand - 19 February 2016

I’ve always thought those discussions about the preference over Bob Mould or Grant Hart’s post-HUSKER DU work a little frustrating. I mean, both individuals output has been impressive. I loved SUGAR but I also loved NOVA MOB. With regard to the solo albums, both have released a body of work that has been equally stunning and occasionally bewildering.

With that taken into consideration, I kinda surprised myself with the realization that this is the first time I had seen GRANT HART post HUSKER DU, compared with at least a dozen MOULD experiences. Would old ‘Golden Tonsils’ Hart live up to his former colleague and sparing partner in a live situation? Without a doubt, he did.

The night got off to a shit start though - and that is through no fault of any band. I travelled up to the gig on the Intercity Bus Service. It was due to arrive in Auckland at 7pm. Doors opened at 8pm. First band on probably around 9pm. That’d give me two hours to get from the bus station, grab some food and get to the gig. However Intercity fucked up royally!!

The bus left an hour late and somehow, the driver (that’s a broad statement - he seemed to have his handbrake on the entire way and actually apologised for his lack of pace as he, "had to get used to the gears - they're all a bit different you know!") managed to add yet another hour on the drive. So, I arrived at 9pm and by the time I got to the gig only caught the last five minutes or so of LOUD GHOST.



Black Science

And that’s a shame as they seemed to be cranking out some seriously damaged sounds fusing something like the rock ‘n’ roll drenched sound of (early) GUN CLUB with the intensity of BIG BLACK. Given I only saw a fragment, that could be way off the mark but it was an impressive quagmire of noise for a few minutes.

Auckland’s own BLACK SCIENCE was up next and cranked the jams with some seriously fuzzed guitar lines, catchy songs and some disjointed, splintered beats. Big comparison has to be MUDHONEY with a bit of LEMONHEADS, SONIC YOUTH and MC5. No idea about song titles but the trio put on an enjoyable set, even if some of the guitar histrionics went a bit overboard at times.

Somewhere during the interval following the BLACK SCIENCE set, Grant Hart appeared at the left of the stage dressed in a brightly flowered shirt, wide braces, hobo jeans and stunning red shoes. Somehow, he looked cool as fuck too.

Grant Hart Conspiracy

His latest band, THE GRANT HART CONSPIRACY, is a four-piece consisting of what appears to be pretty seasoned musicians and, from the opening, ‘Back From Somewhere’, it was clear that Hart had amassed some solid players around him. It was also clear that this was gonna be a ‘Best Of Hart’ type set with the following songs being ‘2541’ and a spine-tinglingly magical ‘Diane’ - which proved he still has those Golden Tonsils albeit ones that broke occasionally.

From there, the set spanned HART’s entire career with particular highlights being ‘Pink Turns To Blue’, a set-stealing ‘You’re The Reflection Of The Moon On The Water’, ‘Now That You Know Me’ and a ringing version of ‘The Last Days Of Pompeii’. A number of songs from his recent album, ‘The Argument’, were featured too, with ‘Morningstar’ being particularly effective.

Grant Hart

It was good to hear he remains outspoken. One point toward the end of the set saw him state that we should, "remember to tip the bar staff." A rather bellicose member of the audience shouted, "FUCK OFF," - Grant then chastised him and it appeared the gig maybe over. On another occasion, he requested that cat owners ‘meow’, followed by dog owners ‘barking’. The analogy was that if ‘some musician’ from Minneapolis could get a crowd on the other side of the planet to make animal noises that easily, imagine what Donald Trump could do en masse. Yes, it was rather simplistic - but so are those that follow Trumpton.

Another notable point was that HART possessed the ability to stop the band a few bars into a song and with a matter of three words, lifted the song to another height. That usually indicates an egotistical rock star; here it showed someone who actually knew how these songs work best. I have say the guitarist was particularly good too - he could do the droning tone of HUSKER, add some subtle lead work that appeared simplistic but created added depth, and enhanced the songs with some understated backing vocals.

After 90 minutes or so, the band finished. The house music came on - only for HART to return and do another half-hour with just his magical voice and guitar. Highlights?? Have to say - every song performed this evening left me in awe but this solo set saw some jaw-droppingly magnificent takes on ‘Admiral Of The Sea’, a set-closing ‘The Main’ and ‘Don’t Want To Know If You Are Lonely’.

And then it was over. For the first time in many years, my ears were ringing viciously. That was compounded by the fact that the sound was the best I’ve ever heard at the Kings Arms. I had a very amicable chat with the man and his guitarist before walking back on a massive high, grinning like some kinda long-haired, Punk Rock clown.

So - did HART match MOULD live? Ohhh yes.... I probably have to say that this gig transcended Mould’s bluster and I sensed that with the set of songs performed here, I’d witnessed a genuine songwriting maverick - someone on par with Dylan even.

Yeah, that’s a massive statement but, three plus weeks since the gig, one I still believe.

NB: If anyone has a song-by-song set list, please let me know