Billy Idol
Devil’s Playground
Label: Sanctuary Records
Released: March 22, 2005
Produced: Keith Forsey

Billy Idol – vocals
Steve Stevens – guitar
Stephen McGrath – bass
Derek Sherinian – keyboards
Brian Tichy – percussion, drums
Julian Beeston – drum programming

1. Super Overdrive (Billy Idol; Brian Tichy) – 4:18
2. World Comin’ Down (Billy Idol; Brian Tichy) – 3:33
3. Rat Race (Billy Idol; Steve Stevens) – 4:17
4. Sherri (Billy Idol) – 3:17
5. Plastic Jesus (Ed Rush; George Cromarty) – 4:53
6. Scream (Billy Idol; Brian Tichy) – 4:42
7. Yellin’ at the Xmas Tree (Billy Idol; Brian Tichy) – 4:14
8. Romeo’s Waiting (Billy Idol; Steve Stevens) – 3:42
9. Body Snatcher (Billy Idol; Brian Tichy) – 3:57
10. Evil Eye (Billy Idol; Brian Tichy) – 4:32
11. Lady Do or Die (Billy Idol; Brian Tichy) – 4:37
12. Cherie (Billy Idol; Brian Tichy) – 3:47
13. Summer Running (Billy Idol; Steve Stevens) – 4:30

My favorite track here is Plastic Jesus, it’s kind of slow, and a bit bluesy. My five-year-old Son likes Rat Race, it starts out slow, but speeds up and gets crazy. This album is the type of music that bands like Social Distortion, and a lot of the current crop of “punk” bands are trying to make. It’s street rock, with the sound of experience behind it. Some people have a chip on their shoulder about Billy Idol, because he experienced success in the ‘80’s. So? While his records were on the charts he was dancing naked on a Hollywood hotel balcony in a heroin stupor. Not punk enough? While his videos were being played on MTV, he was racing his motorcycle on the highway, crashing and almost killing himself. Still not punk enough? While you were still breast-feeding Billy was hanging out in England with Johnny Rotten, Sid Vicious and Siouxie Sioux. Now who’s’ punk?

Devil’s Playground is the sixth full-length studio album by Billy Idol, and features his first newly recorded material in about a decade. The album also reunited Idol in the studio with guitarist Steve Stevens. All songs were written or co-written by Idol, except Plastic Jesus.

Idol, and band supported the album with a world tour of rock festival appearances in 2005, and 2006, including performances on the Vans Warped Tour. The album clocks in at just under an hour, it’s good to workout to.

With all the problems with Sanctuary Records, who knows if he’ll release anything this good again.

If you get the chance to get a copy, go do it.

Rating: *** three out of three stars

On to the story . . .

The beginning of 1986, was a lonely time for me. I was out of High School for over a year and a half, and had no girlfriend, I had graduated from Barber School six months earlier, my family life was strained (to put it nicely), and I was directionless. Once I got out of Barber School, I realized I didn’t want to cut hair anymore. I still did dozens of local punk, and metal kids in my garage for $5.00 a pop, but I didn’t want to stand in a shop all day wearing a white smock.

I ended up taking a day job at Taco Bell cutting up vegetables in the back for eight hours a day. My first day on the job (training day) I was told to change my clothes in the storage closet in the back, and leave my clothes in my duffle bag. Midway through my shift this gay hype (and coworker) went through my bag and stole the only cash I had to my name, $7.00. The manager felt bad, he gave me $5.00, and all the food I could carry home. This job was already starting to look like a mistake.

Originally I worked at the Taco Bell at Reseda and Vanowen, then they transferred me to the Reseda and Ventura location, once it was built. They thought I was reliable (I never called in sick). While most of the people I went to school with were quickly making their way through their parents businesses, I had stalled. I would run into people and I’d lie, I would say I’m working at a Mexican Restaurant in Encino. It sounded better – to me. I was found out about a month later, as I was hauling trash to the dumpster, an old schoolmate was in the drive-thru, spotted me. He said “Mexican restaurant, huh?” All I could say was “yep.”

It was around this time that I was approached by another stalker.

I used to walk from Victory and White Oak to Reseda and Ventura, almost, everyday, it was a little under two miles each way. And sure enough about once a week this guy in a blue Buick Skylark used to slow down and offer me a ride. He was very pushy about it. It crept me out. Finally one day I decided to either punch him out or get in his car and push him out of the car and drive it into the Sepulveda Basin.

So, I’m walking down Vanowen heading towards Reseda, and in the corner of my eye I see this fucking blue car tailing me again. And I wait for it “Hey man, need a ride?” I say “yeah.” As I approach his car door I notice a bunch of textbooks with Pierce College book covers on them in his back seat, so I blurt out “weird, I’ve never seen you at Pierce before.” I don’t know what it was about me saying this, but he freaked out, and sped off so fast it almost spun me around.

I guess I exposed him, or let him know I could track him down if I needed to.

I didn’t see this guy again for over three months. Then one night I’m sitting at home feeling sorry for myself, house is empty, and I’m extremely bored. So, I decide to call the Mann Theatre in Tarzana and see what’s playing, I can’t remember what it was, but I decided to walk those couple of miles and see something. I got there and there was huge line wrapped around in front of the theatre, and everyone was about my age and on dates. Shit, this depressed me even more. I couldn’t stand in line and sit in the theatre with these people. I was feeling very loserish.

So, I started to walk back home. I’d see what was on TV, and like a fat broad I’d drown my sorrows in food. So, I’m trekking back down Reseda, and a car pulls along side me, and in a faint whisper says “excuse, me do you know how to get . . .” I know this trick, if you survived the punk scene, survived public schools, or just life in general, you get this. So, I yelled back “I can’t hear speak up,: and continued walking. He pulls along side of me again, and starts the whisper again “Oh, OK can you help me find . . .” At this point I’m a little nervous, and pissed. It’s after 10:00pm on a Friday, if I had friends I wouldn’t be able to find them at this time, I’m alone here, so what’s my next move?

So, I yell at the guy, “Sorry, but if you’re going to keep whispering like a bitch, I can’t help you, move the fuck on.” The guy drives off, turns off his lights, and parks his car about a block up. Now, I’m beyond amped, I’m damn near crawling out of my skin. I’m walking all the way over to the right side along the buildings, not on the sidewalk, I want to see if this guy gets out or tries something. When I’m about a car away, his door starts to open, so I pick up a handful of white decorative rocks from a planter in front of the apartment I’m at, and hurl them towards his head. I start yelling “If you get out of that car I’ll pull your fucking head off and stuff you in your fucking trunk. And your Mother’s next.” Why the Mother part? I don’t know. After a lifetime of public schools Mothers always get a mention in a fight.

Anyway, the guy jumps back into his car and peels out. I kept throwing rocks, hitting the car each time. I stopped after my last three throws missed.

I got home thirty minutes later, couldn’t find any food in the house, ate a half a bottle of Bacon-bits, and watched the last hour of Bugsy Malone. After all Jodie Foster was my first crush, I was 12 and I remember wishing I was Bugsy Malone. All was OK, until the next day.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out, order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330.

Blight at the End of the Funnel
Edward Colver
Last Gasp
August 1, 2006

A collection of Edward Colver’s captivating photographic works. For over 30 years, Colver has been one of the main documentarians of the Southern California punk rock scene.

He was visible at every punk show within a seventy-mile radius from downtown L.A. to Riverside County. He was trusted, so his photographs were a part of what was going on rather than being the images of an outsider merely observing.

The key thing that makes this not just a great book, not just a “punk” book, but a great book, is all the photos seem to tell a story. Even shows I was at seem that much better through Mr. Colver’s lens. He saw things that we didn’t.

His photos of people I never really thought twice about, Colver has a way of making them interesting.

I currently have my copy on the table in the living room. Friends and family thumb through it with great interest whether or not the they were into that punk thing.

If you don’t have it, go buy it.

Rating: *** three out of three stars

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out, order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330.

7 Seconds/Suicidal Tendencies/Youth Brigade/Wasted Youth
Galaxy Roller Rink, Fullerton, CA
Friday, December 17, 1982
Admission $6.00
Time: 8:00 PM

I remember picking up the flyer for this show at Vinyl Fetish on Melrose, down in Hollywood. I was hanging out with a friend of mine Chris Williams Chris was out here for a year from New York, and I was shopping for a pyramid-studded belt (a must for every punk’s arsenal). Anyway, I picked up the flyer, and Chris takes it, and say’s “let’s go!” Now, if you ever saw Chris, you would think he was the last guy who would ever belong at a punk show. As I said he was from New York, he had curly blonde haircut into a preppy-type mullet, drove a BMW, and wore Member’s Only jackets. I told him that it might not be a great idea, but the New York attitude in him insisted. So, for the next week, or so that’s all he talked about – going to the show. I invited two of the girls I hung out with at school Stephanie C. and Steph B. This show was turning into a full-blown road trip. I had never ventured this far out for a show; from where I lived it was just over 43 miles, and a good hour drive. Chris offered to drive, and we all accepted.

The night of the show my Mom dropped me off at Chris’ place in Tarzana, after the gig I would just crash out there. Chris had pulled out a bag of old work clothes, jackets, shirts and boots. When I walked in he was working overtime drawing anarchy symbols all over the boots, and had emptied out about half a tub of Dipity Doo into his hair. He didn’t look so much like a punk as he did a homeless guy. So, he asked me how he looked, I told him he’d be fine, the way he looked I don’t think anybody would talk to him.

The two Steph’s were over at Steph B.’s place. We picked them up at 6:30pm-6:45pm, and hopped onto the 101 freeway. We took the 101 for about 30 minutes, and then switched over to the Interstate 5 for the last half hour. When we finally arrived we parked a few blocks away, Chris was not sure what would become of his new BMW.

Once we got to the Galaxy Rollerink, there were huge lines to get into the place. The Fullerton police were frisking everybody, and waving handheld metal detectors over everyone in line. They didn’t have female officers for the girls, same group of male cops for everybody. And standing to the side was a couple of officers holding back German Sheppard’s on leashes. Finally after fifteen or twenty minutes I got waved forward, immediately the metal detector goes off as the officer waved the metal detector over my leather jacket. The cop gets this look on his face, and my eyes bug, because I have no idea what set it off. One cop comes over to check my pockets as the other holds my shoulder. The officer pulls out a pocketknife with a razor blade tucked into the blade. I almost crapped. I became the very stereotype these cops were fighting. The other officer was now holding both of my shoulders. The first thing that came to mind was that I was going to be arrested and have to call my mom, and have her drive an hour to get me, and this was going to be all bad. So, I decided to bargain with them. I said “Would you like to keep the knife, I don’t need it.” The officers look at each other for a minute, and told me to get moving. Whew, I was safe! Would you believe these items were part of an art project? I was supposed to draw the knife and blade and have it turned in after Christmas break?

OK, now let me explain, I had begged my mom for a pocketknife. For two reasons, one to use in my art class for paste-up’s and things like that, the second . . . well, I thought they looked cool. Finally, my Mom let me get one, and it sat in my pocket for months untouched. The razor, I also forgot I had. My art teacher, I think he was fruity, gave me a razor blade to draw for part of my final. I was supposed stick it in something like an apple, or something and draw it. Well, I didn’t want it to cut through the jacket so I tucked it into the knife. As I started to walk away, I look up and twenty or thirty people are staring at me like I’m super-hardcore. Bringing in weapons, and just walking away. I wasn’t cool; I was scared, and dumb.

Finally, we walk in, the two Steph’s run off to socialize, and me and Chris find a spot to hangout as 7 Seconds tune-up. Then they just launched into their set. They were pretty good. I don’t remember the exact songs they did. I know they did some songs from the Not So Quiet On The Western Front compilation on Alternative Tentacles, and their 7″ EP Skins, Brains and Guts, also on Alternative Tentacles. 7 Seconds was formed in Reno, NV, and relocated to Sacramento, CA. Vocalist Kevin Seconds did a good job.

The second group on was Suicidal Tendencies. From the minute we walked in there was a mass of Suicidal fans standing the back, somewhere fifty to a hundred of these guys all in white dress shirts with different versions of the Suicidal Tendencies logo drawn on the back, skull and cross bones, some crosses. Anyway, they all stayed in the back of the rink until the first chord was played, then like the running of the bulls they took over the stage, they took over the pit, and eventually they took over the room. Suicidal played the bulk of their songs from their self-titled album that they would release the next year. “Suicide’s an Alternative / You’ll Be Sorry,” “Two Sided Politics,” “I Shot the Devil,” “Subliminal,” “Won’t Fall in Love Today,” “Institutionalized,” “Memories of Tomorrow,” “Possessed,” “I Saw Your Mommy…” “Fascist Pig,” “I Want More” and “Suicidal Failure.” The only real difference I remember is the I Shot the Devil song, I’m pretty sure they sang it as I Shot Reagan. I was never a Suicidal Tendencies fan, but you couldn’t deny the powerful performance. As their music took over the stage, their fans took over the hall. I was surprised they weren’t headlining, with their fans alone they could’ve sold the place out. Mike Muir was an intense front man.

The third band on was Youth Brigade. Youth Brigade was made up of three brothers Shawn, Mark, and Adam Stern. These guys are also the founders of BYO Records. They played a great set. It was L.A. punk, but with a hint of Oi in it. They played Violence, Boys In The Brigade, and Look In The Mirror from the compilation they produced: Someone Got Their Head Kicked In. They were really good; their set went by too fast.

Finally, the fourth band of the night: Wasted Youth. These guys got great crowd reaction. The whole place was jumping, and singing along to all the tracks off of Reagan’s In: “Reagan’s In,” “Problem Child,” “Teenage Nark,” “Uni-High Beefrag,” “Born Deprived,” “Fuck Authority,” “You’re a Jerk,” “We Were On Heroin,” “Punk for a Day,” and “Flush the Bouncers.” Lyrically, Wasted Youth were very amateurish. But once you get past that they were a real fun band to watch live. The band was in it’s classic line-up of: Danny Spira on vocals, Chet Lehrer on guitar, Jeff Long on bass, and Allen Stiritz on drums.

You may remember Wasted Youth’s cool album cover, done by Pushead Lamort. During this time (three months before I turned seventeen), I would buy almost anything drawn by one of my favorite artists: Marc Rude, Shawn Kerri or Pushead. As you may remember Pushead went on to do some great art for The Misfits and some other stuff for Mettalica.

Anyway, the ride home was a bit quicker. We dropped off the two Steph’s, who we would talk to all night between bands, basically giving our critiques. Then Chris and I headed to his place and crashed out at 1:00am. Other than the police incident it was a cool night.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: Order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330.

Pretty Mess/Dethtrip Forever/Year of the Dragon/Dangerously Sleazy
The Redwood, Los Angeles, CA
Saturday, July 21, 2011
Time: 9:00 PM

There are so many bands nowadays that want to bring back the early 80’s punk vibe, and in all honesty, almost none of them deliver.

Pretty Mess is one of the few that has that raw danger to them. They aren’t a retro 80’s punk band, but they have that edge to them that the early L.A. punk bands did. Dee Skusting is the ultimate front person, whether she’s belting out vocals that could make paint peel and coffee nervous, she controls the stage (at one point she told the bouncer to “manhandle” a rowdy audience member and the bouncer actually hurled him across the room). So, basically Pretty Mess is the reason I forced myself to leave the house.

The first band up was Dangerously Sleazy, they went on waaaaay late. Well, later than they were supposed to, somewhere between 10:00 and 10:30. I didn’t enjoy them. They did Hendrix and Stooges covers. They did them OK, but my impression was they were trying too hard to be gnarly garage band and it didn’t work for me.

So, after the band wraps up, I’m half nodding off in a booth in the back when I look across from me, at the booth to my right is Greg Hetson! The fan boy in me had to go over and verify it.

I walk over and ask, “Are you Greg Hetson?”

He says yes.

I say, “I’m a big fan,” and shake his hand. I plop down give him a postcard advertisement for my book, and ask if we can take a picture. He asked a bit about the book, then I left him alone.

The second band up was Year of the Dragon. They were pretty kick-ass. Kind of like Faith No More, Living Color and Red Hot Chili Peppers all rolled into one. Sort of a punk funk thing going on. Enjoyed them.

Finally at around 12:30 Pretty Mess hit the stage, hours late. From the start of their set until the end they were one huge wall of noise. Phil Spector had his wall of sound, Dee Skusting and her band mates have a wall of noise.

This is the third or fourth time I’ve seen them, and I have to say each time they get better and the crowd gets bigger. If you haven’t seen them go out and catch their show, you won’t be disappointed.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out:Order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330.

What We Do Is Secret
Director: Rodger Grossman
Rhino Films
Released: 2007

Shane West … Darby Crash
Bijou Phillips … Lorna Doom
Rick Gonzalez … Pat Smear
Noah Segan … Don Bolles

I haven’t read very good reviews for this flick, but I had to watch it. I heard about this thing so many years ago. They’d film, stop, and get the funds together, film again. So, it was a long time to wait. But unfortunately it’s not what I expected.

You can tell everybody tried real hard, but it still came across as a made for TV kind of movie. The grittiness of Darby’s life was missing. The drugs, the song-writing process, the homosexuality. Don’t get me wrong it’s all shown, but in a very clean homogenized fashion.

I’m glad someone went to the effort to make this. The story should be out there, but it wasn’t like I remember it.

I hear Disney is working on one called The Aristocats 2: The Greg Ginn Story. Could be good, Lee Ving could do the voice of Greg’s favorite cat.

If you get the chance to see this, give it a shot.

Rating: ** * two out of three stars

On to the story . . .

Punk rock has always had so many rules to follow, rules that if not followed, you’re a poser. You didn’t go to Oki Dog’s on Friday, you’re a poser. You didn’t hang out in one of the train cars, and get arrested in front of Godzilla’s, you are poser.

Well, now that I’m creeping towards my mid-forties, there is a new set of rules that I stumbled upon accidentally.

It seems that if you’re an older dude, forty plus years old, and you’re a Hollywood guy, or fancy your self as an intellectual; you have to start wearing Clark Kent glasses. It doesn’t matter how good your eyesight is, you have start dressing like Greg Hetson. I don’t make the rules, I only enforce them.

On top of the glasses you have to buy a truckload of semi-ironic or downright stupid t-shirts. A guy I used to work with used to wear his Spice World t-shirt once a week. Every week someone would ask him if he liked the Spice Girls, and he’d always flash this condescending smile and say “Oh, of course, I can’t wait for them to tour again.” In other words, buy shirts that you think are stupid, so when you’re asked about them you can ridicule these poor tools.

Now that we got that straight, the next set of rules are as follows: If you’re an older dude, forty plus years old, and you’re a rowdier guy, possibly an ex-HB punk, or fancy your self as a rough-neck, you have to start dressing as if you work in a 1950’s style auto garage. It doesn’t matter what your real job is, you have start dressing like Mike Ness. I don’t make the rules, I only enforce them.

So, if you fit into this category, this is what you need to do. Get to Wal-Mart this weekend; buy one pair of work shoes, preferably Wolverines, then four or five Dickie’s work shirts, and three or four pairs of matching Dickie’s pants.

To give yourself that worked all day in the garage look, throw some garden pebbles in the dryer with your clothes.

Now, the hard part of adopting this look is the tattooing. You have to get tattooed from chin to sack. Again, I don’t make the rules, I only enforce them.

Ask relatives to give you tattoo gift cards for Birthday’s and Holiday’s; after all it’s costly to look poor.

Earrings are no longer a necessary accessory for either of the above two “looks.” Wear at your own discretion.

Now there is one addendum to rule number two (the Mike Ness rule), if you are in your thirties, and are Hispanic you have to follow the Mike Ness rule of dress, but you have to throw in a pompadour, or a bit of a Nick 13 or Tiger Army look. I don’t make the rules, I only enforce them.

I hope I have helped all the confused middle-aged punks out there. It took me a while to figure out how to grow old and be a punk, but these fashion icons, Greg Hetson, Mike Ness and Nick 13 have shown me the way. In turn, I give you my information.

Again, I don’t make the rules, I only enforce them.

LAST ONE TO DIE is officially out: Order at: https://www.createspace.com/3669330.