Band Spotlight: Guns Of Brighton

Boston is the fertile breeding ground for many of the world's favorite bands. From Dropkick Murphys to Mighty Mighty Bosstones, from Street Dogs to Darkbuster, The Ducky Boys to The Freeze, the city's tightly knit underground scene and many dedicated Punk venues make it a great city for bands. And now there's another group set to take the world by storm, "Guns of Brighton".

The band's name is an obvious tribute to the Clash's "Guns of Brixton", a song that focuses on brutal police repression sparking riots and social unrest, and discontent with economic decline. Less obvious for those unfamiliar with Boston geography, Brighton is the neighborhood where the band keeps a practice space. So Guns of Brighton is a nod to the past history of Punk, the current ongoing struggles, and their local roots.

Looking back, the band now seems inevitable. Front man Markie D and drummer Ant had already been playing together for a while in other bands when they decided to start messing around with some Jimmy Cliff covers. They decided to have some fun and met bassist Lee through an ad on Craigslist. After recording a few songs, the band decided they needed another guitar to round out the sound, and Markie D thought of his old friend Mike (formerly of Gang Green). But Mike had already heard the demos, and approached the band about joining up.

The band plays Punk & Roll, forged in Reggae, and soaked in the Boston Punk & Roll sound, with lyrics focused on social justice and action, and riffs that have you humming along the first time through the album, and singing to yourself a good week afterwards. The band put out their first album, "A Selfish Call to Arms" earlier this year. Guns of Brighton have shared the stage with everyone from local favorites The Welch Boys to The Young Dubliners, and this month will even be supporting UK legends "Menace" during their east coast run.

"Like" them on Facebook HERE and get a free MP3 download when you sign up for the mailing list Guns of Brighton at their main page HERE . You can also check out the band's new video for "Heroes of the Past", shot and directed by TJ Welch of the Welch Boys and Sonic Lobotomy, on YouTube HERE
 

-Jo Problems-
Big Wheel Staff Reporter

 

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Band Spotlight: Dirty Kid Discount

Dirty Kid Discount is a collaboration of music enthusiasts from storied backgrounds hailing from Portland Oregon. They have described themselves as Thrash Grass/Romantic Nihilism/Campfire Crust/Train Hoppin' Gypsy Punk! Sounds interesting to you? We think so too!

Brought together by their wolfish ways and mutual desire to create original music, they have drawn influences from a variety of powers including traditional folk music, da Punx!, a whole slew of metal, and the music made by their friends and fellow travelers across the world.

Dirty Kid Discount is a Pacific Northwest Punk band composed of a 8 piece lineup which was birthed from the feral womb of parent project the “Ghosttown Rejects” which songwriters Pitch Goose (Acoustic Guitar, Washboard, Vocals), Icarus (Accordion, Piano) Jay Crash (Bass & Vocals), played together in with other friends around the Portland area and beyond. They are joined by Jake Carpenter (Guitar, Trombone & Vocals), Emily Elizondo (Mandolin, Musical Saw & Vocals), Erin Wolf (Banjo & Vocals), and Jesse Cobb (Drums), who are all from accomplished projects in their own right. As of recent they have also added a new part time member, John Underwood on Trumpet and vocals. They routinely host appearances by many of the talented people they've met and continue to meet.

You may have seen this anarcho-olde-timey-gypsy-Punk band play with bands such as the Subhumans, Suicide Machines, Goddamn Gallows, and Larry and his Flask. Or caught their set at Punk Rock Bowling or OC Cruststock. It doesn’t matter if they’re playing to an aggro crowd with a band like RANCID or a cultural arts theater or on the street corner busking for spare change. They are just as much Eastern European folk as they are  aggressive, distorted, gutteral Punk fucking rock! Their music and performance is full of passion and energy. They move and inspire crowds everywhere they play. Their fan base crosses boarders from Punk to folk and everything in between.

Their debut record "A Life Amongst Ruins" features eight tracks of high energy, free spirited, melodic and gutteral waltzes about drinking, ancient folklore, and the anti-christ. Dirty Kid Discount is 100% DIY. They produce their own material with the help of their friend Mike at Smegma Studios, as well as book their own tours.

 

Dirty Kid Discount is currently working on 6 new tracks in the studio as well as a music video and live footage from tour. With plans for their next release, they also plan to head back out on a full USA tour early next year.

You can keep up with Dirty Kid Discount on Facebook HERE

and listen to their music at Reverb Nation HERE or Band Camp HERE 

Look out for gigs on DKD's upcoming tour, trust us, you will be glad you did!

 

Big Wheel Magazine

 

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We Need To Talk

We need to talk. They say history repeats its self, that things move in cycles, and there's some shit happening right now that I've seen before. I know how it ends, and it needs to stop.

A few weeks ago I was at a show here in Boston. The show was of a much loved, much respected band who's been active since 1976. This is a band who I've personally witnessed turn an ugly seething crowd from anger to joy, covered in streamers and glitter. This is a band I've seen play more than 25 times in multiple countries, and never seen anything but smiles. Until last night.

Last night I watched as a small group of people shut a show down. I watched as a band were booed and insulted for caring about the safety and well-being of all the fans present, not just some meat-head idiots who thought they had a right to do whatever they wanted. I watched as this band explained that the night before, in similar circumstances, a kid broke his neck at their show in NYC, and pleaded with both the crowd and the venue staff to not let that happen again. I watched the crowd respond by pelting them with glass bottles, and the staff do nothing. I watched people in the crowd start to shout racist shit at the band, and go out of their way to hurt people in the crowd who weren't dancing, and didn't want to be involved, knocking them down, and stepping on them rather than picking them up. I saw people rush the stage to shove band members *while they were still playing*, and staff continue to do nothing until a fight erupted and the show was shut down.

I then listened to people call the band "pussies", "faggots" and demand their money back. After a set that lasted more than an hour. After no one did anything to help the situation. Because they thought it was the band who didn't "act Punk Rock".

I'm disgusted. I'm ashamed. And I'm telling you guys we've got a problem.

If you've been listening to internet chatter, you can probably guess who which show i was attending. Maybe you were there, maybe you think you've read enough to know what happened, maybe you saw something else. I don't care. Because this isn't an isolated incident. Festivals and shows around the country are being shut down or scaled back because of people intent on ruining things for everyone else. Punk Rock Bowling saw disgusting behavior this year, including someone shitting in the pool, and no one would be surprised if no one wants to have punk rockers back again next year. If we let things go on this way, we're going to lose every venue, every festival, and every show. We are going to lose every goddamn thing.

News and public media promote the idea that Punk rock is, at it's core, mindless destruction. Self destruction, property destruction, what have you. You and I know that's not true. We love punk rock because it's a music that speaks to all of us. It's a space for the weirdos, the free thinkers, the artists, the off beat, and the passionate to come together. And it's a space where we take care of each other. We have to. No one else will. When someone falls in the pit, you pick them up. You don't fucking swan dive on top of them. And you don't fucking kick them when they're down. Throwing glass, starting fights, trying to hurt people, screaming "faggot" and being racist, none of that shit is punk rock.

I probably go to 150 gigs in a slow year. I've been in this area a long time. A lot of the kids causing trouble last night I've never seen at a show before in my life. I'm not advocating for no new guys, and I'm certainly not advocating for vigilante mob justice, because nothing kills venues faster than fights, but there's a lot of misinformation out there, and we have to do something about it. Talk to people. Meet the new kids. Make it clear that we're ALL here to have a good time. And that means not hurting each other. It means respecting that bands are people, not dancing puppets to be shit on, and the same for other people in the audience. It means promoters being actively involved, and making sure there's appropriate staff at shows, and making sure people trying to start trouble are removed before they get the chance. It means supporting decisions that keep people from being permanently disabled, or even killed, and not lashing out at performers or venues for your own shitty behavior.

The Agitators said it best: "If you're here to have a good time, welcome to the show. If you're gonna be an asshole, we'd rather see you go."

 

-Jo Problems-

Big Wheel Staff Reporter

 

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Operation Damayan: Relief in the Philippines

I was burned out. I had been the frontman for The Stitched Lips for about 6 years already. Eric Martinez, who now plays bass for the Black Mambas, and Sergio Sandoval, who is now focusing on his career and is soon to be married, formed the band in our hometown of Bell Gardens, Calif., while we were seniors in High School.

 

Eventually, Luis Herrera, who is currently the drummer for Sonny Vincent and the Testors, the Sorrows and the Nasty Souls, joined in and we established ourselves as an upcoming Los Angeles Punk band that was roughly in the style of the Stooges, the Kids, and the New York Dolls.

We were doing really well before disbanding. We were playing good gigs, we opened up for more established bands and started carving a mark into the scene, but the slightly more fame we got, the more discontent I felt. I wasn’t making any money and it really was like a job. I lost interest, and we decided to split. That was the end of a huge chapter in my life, rock ‘n’ roll was everything.

In May of 2011, about one month after we split up, I enlisted in the Navy. I went in there expecting to receive a job that consisted of hard labor, I mean; I did join the military after all, right? Well, much to my surprise, I was offered the very rare job of Mass Communication Specialist (MC), basically, my job as a U.S. Sailor is to document the Navy’s history and mission through photography, photojournalism, videography, broadcasting, news writing, graphic design, print and production, and public affairs tactics. I lucked out, didn’t I? 

After boot camp, I went straight to my specialty school. I went through six months of training in Fort Meade, Md. There, I found I was pretty good at photojournalism. I was given orders to the U.S. Navy’s forward-deployed aircraft carrier USS George Washington (CVN 73), based out of Yokosuka, Japan. 

I went back home for about three weeks before reporting to my command. I played my very last show at my house and it was the best going away present I could ever receive. More than 100 people showed up to this private show to see the greatest band that never was. We sold our never before released EP, and they all sold out. People went nuts. It was a great feeling, but it was time to leave it behind and start a new chapter.

I’ve been at this command for a little over a year now, primarily working as a photojournalist aboard the ship. I write stories and take photos of our daily operations, ranging anywhere from launching and recovering aircraft, going up in helicopters to photograph ship formations, various training evolutions and community service events during our various port visits. Occasionally, we get sent to different ships or different commands to provide media coverage for various operations. 

The ship departed for its 2013 patrol June 26. We visited Australia, South Korea, Singapore and finally Hong Kong. During our Hong Kong port visit, our ship was recalled. The Republic of the Philippines was hit by the super typhoon Yolanda/Haiyan. The typhoon left many areas in the Philippines decimated, with many dead in its aftermath. Our mission was to go to Philippines and provide relief for those who needed it most. We were to provide water, food, and medical care to disaster victims. The George Washington media team and myself were there to document it.

On Nov. 14, the ship arrived in the Philippines. I departed the ship around the afternoon via MH-60S Seahawk from the “Golden Falcons” of Helicopter Sea Combat Squadron (HSC) 12; I was supposed to be temporarily assigned to the Arleigh-Burke class guided missile destroyer USS Lassen, where I was to document the ship’s participation in the relief effort, but first, I had to get dropped off in Tacloban Air Base. The helicopter had to make a few supply drops before they dropped me off on the ship. 

We flew over Philippines to our destination and I saw firsthand the aftermath of the typhoon. From up above, I saw the trees that looked like they were blowing in the wind, but there was no wind blowing. I saw villages that were surrounded by debris and rubble from buildings that were missing roofs, windows, and walls or were just completely gone. There were trucks and cars that were flipped over.   Every city that we flew over was in ruins.

I had no idea how much worse it was down there than I could see from above. The Seahawk soon dropped supplies into Tacloban. Sailors were waiting in the rain, directing aircraft. As soon as these supplies came in, Sailors rushed the pallets to get them ready for distribution. I didn’t know how long the Sailors were there, but they sure as hell looked busy. They were all Sailors who volunteered to help. They were probably doing more intense work than what they were doing on the ship. They didn’t care, they all wanted to help.

The first thing I saw when we reached the air base was the line of disaster victims that were waiting to get evacuated. They were coming out of a building that was barely standing. These people were waiting in the aftermath of a chaotic environment and all men, women, children and elderly had a blank, desperate look on their face. Most of them only had the clothes they were wearing. Few had backpacks, purses or some form of luggage. Many were soaking wet from the on-and-off again tropical thunderstorms, but the ones that were helping them the most, were the Marines assigned to Logistics Battalion 4, 3rd Marine Expeditionary Brigade.

Marines were lined up, escorting and loading supplies onto MV-22 Ospreys and C-130s. They were tired, wet and their uniforms were all messy. They had been there all day and night helping the people that needed it most. They never once fell out, they made sure everyone got to where they needed and got the supplies they needed. They didn’t stop; they kept on going.

I walked through lines of disaster victims, aid relief tents, debris and trash and made my way onto where the Marines had set up their tents. Once I got there, I spoke to a Marine officer who was curious about the transport capabilities we had on the ship. He then informed me that there were more Marines coming on foot from Manila and pointed out that they were trying to make room for them. I looked over to the open field and noticed that there were Marines clearing out debris, trash and bodies from the grassy areas. I made my way over and was going to start taking picture, but ultimately decided against it. I didn’t want family members or friends to find out their loved ones were gone through a photograph on a newspaper.

A couple of hours and photographs later, I was informed that I would not be going to Lassen. I went back on the Seahawk and we made quick drop off in a small island. It was torn apart. People rushed out of their houses to get our attention. They kept signaling at us to land. We circled around a couple of times but we found no suitable place to land the Seahawk. We had to hover over a small patch of land right off the island to drop off supplies. The Aircrewman had to hoist himself and box after box, 50-pound bag after 50-pound bag; he lowered himself to deliver those supplies. People were scrambling to get them and many others thanked and waved as we flew off. It was great to see joy in such a devastating area. 

I got back to the ship and I was told to keep my equipment packed just in case I were to go out again. Later that day, I was informed that I would be going to the Ticonderoga class guided-missile cruiser USS Cowpens (CG 63). I spent my first day on Cowpens settling in, but the next day I was up on a Seahawk from the “Scorpions” of Helicopter Anti-Submarine Squadron Light (HSL) 49. For the next four days, I flew with them to document everything they were doing. We would pick up water from George Washington, pick up food from Tacloban and deliver them to different areas. 

At one point, we picked up a couple of Army Rangers who assisted us in evaluating which villages needed supplies and medical attention. We would drop them off, pick up supplies, drop those off, and pick up the Rangers and any evacuees they brought with them. I recall them bringing on a woman who had a bandage wrapped around her hand. I asked one of the Rangers how she got injured. He informed me her hand was severed by debris as she was trying to pull herself into shelter during the typhoon. It was getting infected without the proper medical treatment. I didn’t see here after we dropped her off. I was just glad these guys were there to help.

Back on the Cowpens, the crewmembers started collecting candy, cookies, cereal, chips and any snacks they could get their hands on. The ship store was running out of items because of all the snacks people were donating. Some went ahead and wrote messages on the packaging. Others made goody bags and left a note in each bag. Every time we handed them out, kids would rush to us, laughing and smiling. They would shake our hands and gives us high fives. At one point shortly after handing out snacks, a woman grabbed my hand and kept thanking me as tears streamed down her face. 

The look on her face, the children laughing and smiling as they waved by, the feelings and emotions I felt and continue to feel is very gratifying. The experience I had there was something new that I’ve never experienced. Seeing it on television or photograph doesn’t do it any justice. 

Although our armed forces are an asset of war, many seem to overlook the work that we do to help those who need it most. There were many Sailors who voluntarily gave up their rack, ventilated spaces, and hot food to go sleep in a tent and work a full day carrying box after box of heavy supplies onto helicopters and I can tell you that none of them have any regrets.

 

-Ricardo Guzman-

Big Wheel Contributor

 

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Harry Jerkface – My Punk Rock Bowling – Las Vegas, NV – May 26 and 27, 2012

Well, it's that time of year again…  Las Vegas.  Where thousands of punks descend upon Sin City for a weekend of Bowling, partying and Punk Rock debauchery. This year I decided to fall back on my usual plan of saving money and getting into as much trouble as my little heart could stand. 

We left late on Friday, hoping to avoid some of the traffic; my carpool also had some unavoidable work responsibilities.  Once on the road, it was a nonstop playlist of party jams including but not limited to our classic and legendary heading to Vegas tune, "Viva Las Vegas," as performed by the Dead Kennedys. I mean, what Punk rock trip to LV is complete without that?  I'd feel empty without it.  We stopped once in Bat Country, to get some gas on the way up.  As we entered the final stretch toward the city, we were hit with a sense of excitement. What adventures would the weekend hold in store for us? 

We arrived sometime after 1am in downtown Las Vegas, checked into our hotel and immediately started drinking. We'd brought several gallons of whiskey, a large jug of gin and plenty of things to mix them with.  After a few hotel room cocktails, we decided to hit the bar.  Having missed all the Friday night kickoff shows, we were ready to have a kickass time. We headed over to the Golden Nugget Hotel, where we proceeded to raise hell until the wee hours of the morning.  I ran into so many friends that I hadn't seen in at least a year.  We laughed and chatted and drank until we couldn't drink anymore. The night was marred by some shitty dudes who were looking for a fight.  They instigated one, and were promptly ejected.  No one needs that!  Minutes later, the bar was back to its joyous self and we spent the rest of the night running around smiling, laughing and getting drunk.  We crawled our way back to the hotel room at 8am and promptly passed out.  There was an awful lot of bowling to do the next day, after all.

My alarm started screaming at me at 10:35 in the morning, I smashed the snooze button a couple of times, rolled outta bed, threw some pants on, grabbed myself an peanut butter sandwich and an apple and made my way over to the Golden Nugget to meet up with my team and head on over to Sam's Town.  We were bowling in the first round and had to be there by noon, and barely made it there by the skin of our teeth.  After a few warm-up throws, we were ready to get down to business.  The team next to us were really good.  I was (un)fortunately still quite drunk from the night before and was tentatively gonna take a break on the drinking for the afternoon…  until the first bucket of beer showed up on our lane. 

I don't really remember too much more of our bowling, except for the fact that I did better than everyone on my team and I had way too many drinks.  After hucking rocks for the better part of 2 hours, we finally got through our 3rd game, and I was let loose to wander around Sam's Town and get into a bit of trouble.  We did some loose interviews on camera for Big Wheel TV and I ended up walking away from  there with a free ham sandwich, fries, 9 beers and a plate of nachos.


I got to see a ton of friends from all over the world, and we shared in beers and snacks and had a really cool time.  I watched a ton of teams doing their very best to score points with style, grace and attitude.  From sailors to wolves to straight up bowlers, everyone had their unique take on team spirit and uniforms. 

I had asked a few people to look for me before leaving because I hadn't secured a ride back over to downtown, but with my lack of sleep and my inebriated state of mind, I had missed all my opportunities to hop in someones car.  I'm not afraid of public transportation, in fact, I often prefer it when I'm in a strange city.  It offers a unique perspective on the way that a town works, plus it has the added bonus of being affordable.  With that in mind, I made my way over to the bus stop and waited for one to come by bearing the name of downtown Las Vegas on its marquee.  Two dollars and 40 minutes later, I had arrived exactly where I needed to be.  I had planned on taking a nap before heading down to the music festival in time to catch one of my all time favorite bands, The Briefs, who have reunited after a 5 year hiatus. Now, there were a lot of good bands on the bill, but they were the band that I had gone to see, and I wasn't missing that set for anything in the world.  It was nearing 5 pm at that point and I made the executive decision to head straight to the festival.  No shower, no nap.  I didn't have a map or a guidebook or anything, so I had assumed that the festival would be located in the same area as it had been the year before.  I'm glad that I allotted the extra time, because I had made the wrong assumption.  The festival was located a few short blocks away and I only had to follow the echos of bass drums ringing off of casinos to find it.  I caught the tail end of Far From Finished as I stood in line to be patted down.  I was a little bummed about it, cause I hadn't seen them in a long time, and my old roommate Pesky is the bass player for them.  I love that dude.   The line to get into the fest at that point was awfully smooth, and I was let in with no problems; at a sharp contrast to the year before where I was forced to remove my studded belts and leave them behind to be stolen.  Once inside, I wandered the fest grounds, looking for friends and free drinks.  The booze and beers inside were reasonably priced, however the lines were extremely long.  I spent over 45 minutes in line waiting for drinks.  The Real McKenzies played, and people went pretty ape for them.  Dressed in kilts with bagpipes and welcoming attitudes, they blasted though a fun singalong set replete with high kicks and flashes of dongs.  You could see half the crowd cringe, as the other half cheered every time a leg lifted past knee level.  As they wrapped up their set, I had time for one last drink while my buddy Colin grabbed me another 2 cherry lemonade drinks.  I shoved my way up front; there way no way I was missing one second of this Briefs set. 

The Briefs took the stage and proceeded to blast their way through a fun filled set chock full of hits.  I had seen them maybe 4 times before that and was instantly transported back in time to a place where everything was magical, and nothing was wrong in the world.  From songs about getting crabs to shoplifting at Macy's, their set was everything I could have hoped for and more.  Chris Brief tore up his drum kit while singing his heart out.  They never skipped a beat.  With each member of the band taking their turn on lead vocals, we really got the full Briefs experience.  Everyone around me was pogoing and partying and screaming along to all the words of every song.  I couldn't help but notice that Lance Romance looked uncannily like Will Ferrell with a bass guitar.  It made me giggle uncontrollably to myself for the rest of the weekend.  Steve E. Nix was on point as his usual cool self, with shredding licks and high kicks.  The other dude was cool too.  Whatever.  I was so tired at that point, having gotten less than 4 hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, and needed to retreat to my hotel room for a nap.  If there was any chance that I was going to make it through the night, I had to take off.  So I did, missing sets by the English Beat, the Adicts and NOFX.  I wasn't terribly bummed out, having seen all of those bands before and NOFX in the past 3 months.  "Sleep it Is," I said to myself. 

After a refreshing nap, I got myself together and headed down to catch the Bombpops at the Country Saloon.  Good friends of mine; I was excited to see them take the stage amidst some of their most favorite bands.  The line was relatively short when I arrived, as so many people attending were still making their way over from the NOFX show at the main festival stage.  After breezing my way through the front door, I hurried up front.  They were at least 3 songs into their set.  I could tell that they were really excited to be playing, as I made eye contact with each of the players and we winked and nodded and made little inside jokes.  Neil's hops were on point and Josh looked like a madman behind that kit.  I decided to myself that he was channeling Animal from the Muppets and that I should probably throw something at him.   So, I tossed over some trash from my pockets.  It missed and I don't think he noticed.  Jen and Poli played through their parts impeccably and everyone in the crowd seemed to really dig it.  I heard quite a few people remaking on how impressed they were with the band, and everyone walked away satisfied, ready for Dead To Me to do their thing. 

At that point I decided to take off and make my way down to the Beauty Bar to catch the Matt Skiba and Friends set.  I love Alkaline Trio, and had some high hopes for who the special guests could be.  There were rumors flying around for everyone from Tegan to the Sekrets, and I was pretty excited to see what it was gonna be.  The place was fairly empty when I got there, and Joey Balls was setting up to play through a few tunes before too long.  Now I love Joey, and he's a funny dude, so once he broke into an R. Kelly jam, I knew it was gonna be a good night. 

He played through a bunch of covers and some Old Man Markley songs.  It started dragging after a while and the crowd was getting restless…  and then one of the Sterns brought up the list of teams that made it into the 2nd round of bowling and asked Joey to announce it.  He did.  In song.  It was brutal.  So.  After what seemed like FOREVER, he got through all 60 team names.  He may have played another song or two, but at that point I really wasn't paying attention to the things that were happening on the stage.  I was back to beer. 

Whilst drinking and schmoozing we started speculating on possibilities.   Things started flying around on the twitter, and we had a really good idea of what we were in store for.  Laura Jane Grace.  Ever since that Rolling Stone article came out, I was super curious as to what the new Against Me!  would be like.  Would the songs go through drastic changes because the singer had?  To be honest, I had lost all interest in that band years ago and was curious as to what they would be like in the year 2012.  They took a really long time getting their shit together.  The crowd started grumbling and getting a little rowdy when the dude from Riverboat Gamblers took the stage.  He launched into this long winded story about blowing a kiss to Bruce Springsteen who told him that he was a bad ass.  Good for him, but that was kinda a jackoff story with no relevance, to be telling.  No one cared. 

They were hungry for music and everyone wanted music now.  He introduced Laura Jane Grace as Laura Grace Gable and she grabbed up her guitar and belted through the best Against Me! set I'd seen in 8 years.  The crowd exploded with cheers and shouts as everyone sang their hearts out to every word. 

That set was so heartfelt and honest and oh so good.  It was loaded with all my favorite singalong songs from, "Baby I'm An Anarchist" to "We Did It All For Don" to "Reinventing Axl Rose."  Top to bottom.  Amazing choices.  I couldn't have asked for a better set.  She played a couple new songs, including the one that's been making it's way around the internet, "Transgender Dysphoria Blues" and "Black Me Out." 

We got sweaty and close and awesome all over that club.  In the middle of her set you could see police lights in the alley behind the fence, casting an ominous glow over the whole thing.  Which launched her right into "Those Anarcho Punks Are Mysterious."  After she left the stage, we were all pretty spent.  However, we were there to see some Skiba.   A few more beers later (and some water for a friend who needed to hydrate) Matt grabbed up his guitar and launched into a request only set which included "Snake Oil Tanker", "Blue In The Face" and many others.  There were a couple times where he backed up off the mic and let the crowd sing along, but it just didn't have the immediacy of Laura Jane Grace's set. 

Some of the magic was gone, and it just couldn't be recaptured.  It's not to say that it was a bad set, it certainly wasn't the worst Matt Skiba set I've ever seen; but it seemed a pale shadow of what came before it.  So I drank more and we stuck it out until the end, where people called for an encore, but Matt was like, "No.  I'm really done."  So we closed our tabs and dispersed, making our way back toward our hotels where we decided a short nap was in order.

After a couple of hours, I was refreshed enough to make my way back to the bar, although the harsh desert air had resulted in a massive nosebleed.  So I donned a suit, a tie and a sport coat, made myself a couple of gin and tonics and went out for some drinks at the Golden Nugget.  The bar was fun, and it was a good way to catch up with people I hadn't seen at shows throughout the weekend, but by 5am, I needed to call it a night.  Once again, back to the room for some sleep. 

We didn't make it into the second round of bowling, so I spent my morning sleeping in.  I rallied around noonish to meet up with Bad Cop / Bad Cop for an all you can eat/drink mimosa brunch over at the Golden Nugget.  That turned out to be a really good decision on my part.  Drink after drink after drink.  Infinite champagne.  And I was drunk again.  After about 14 or so mimosas I stumbled back to the room to get ready for the pool party with the Real McKenzies over at the Gold Spike, but instead passed out and slept right through it.  I woke up around 5 and got myself ready to go see Rancid.  You guys, I really legitimately still love Rancid.  This is their 20th year as a band and they continue to be the most fun and the best time.

It was most definitely time to party.  We shuffled down to the festival area and stood in line to get in.  The line was definitely longer than the one I had stood in the night before, but it moved and before too long, I was back inside the green fence.  I totally blew it though.  I slept right through the Beltones set.  FML.  When we arrived, my buddies in Old Man Markley were chugging along onstage; I caught maybe 3 songs once inside.  At least I could hear them from the line.  I grabbed my drinks wristbands and prepared for a long wait in line for beers.  Surprisingly, they took note of the insane lines the day before and doubled the staff working in the booze tents.  It made me happy.  The Street Dogs played and I kinda sat around drinking.


Having seen them many times over the past few years, I didn't mind that they were playing, but was not particularly excited about it either.  They played a lot of newer songs that I didn't really recognize, and I watched without much enthusiasm.  And then it was Hepcat time.  I love Hepcat a lot.  They were the 2nd big show I had ever gone to in my life, growing up in Hawaii, and they hold a special place in my heart.  They played so good.  Running through songs from the entirety of their catalog, we were treated to tunes such as "I Can't Wait" and "Dance Wid' Me."  Their sweet soulful ska sounds were just the right thing to chill me out in the middle of this party weekend.  Everyone around me was dancing their little hearts out and laughing and smiling and having the best time.  I was curious as to who would be handling bass duties for them, since their bass player passed away a few years back, and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was the dude from Chris Murray's band.  That guy is a bass line champion.

I skipped out on watching any of the Cockney Rejects set in order to help take care of a few drunk friends who were pretty wasted at that point.  I spent their whole set in lines for food and water and coffee and the restroom, making sure everyone I was with was sober enough to hang through the hour + Rancid set we were about to experience.  After chowing down and watering up, we shoved our way up toward the front as the sound crew finished up their last minute preparations.  The strains of Tim's guitar filled the air and the crowd roared as they took the stage.  They kicked off with "Radio."  That shit is my shit. 

Running through a large portion of their catalog, relying heavily on their hits from "…And Out Come The Wolves," Rancid showed Las Vegas that they've still got it after all these years.  Tim's signature spins were ever-present throughout their hour long set.  I mean, what more can I say about it? It's RANCID.  Skinhead Rob came out for his rap on "Red Hot Moon," highly entertaining to say the least.  Lars' guitars were on point; he was cracking jokes about being the "new guy," 18 years later. Tim told stories about Operation Ivy playing in the desert.  Mat snuffled and growled like a bear.  It was perfect!  They even played "I Wanna Riot," which I hadn't seen live before.  That set was so much fun.  They came back on stage after they finished to jam out a couple more tunes, ending with "Ruby Soho."  I was completely and utterly spent after that.  Covered in dirt and mud and ready for a shower, we left the festival all smiles.


It was time to figure out what in the world I was doing with myself.  I dreaded the thought of one more show; I just couldn't do it.  It was back to the hotel for a shower and a nap.  After some nice air conditioning chillout time, we made out way back down to the Golden Nugget.  Jeff and I had arranged to show some friends the wonderful and exciting game of craps.  Which, by the way, is my most favorite gambling game in all of Las Vegas.  We sat there at the table for a good hour winning and losing, until all the chips were gone. 

It was then time to lick our wounds and have a few more drinks before making our way to the Dunkin' Donuts for 7am bagels.  We had to check out of our hotel in a few short hours, as no one in our car was staying through Monday's festivities.  After another catnap, we packed our things up and wound our way through the heavy traffic back toward the city of Los Angeles, another Punk Rock Bowling under our belts and the city lights reflecting in the mirrors behind us. 

 

-Harry Jerkface-

Big Wheel Contributor

 

 

 

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Steve Ignorant sells out Crass and Punk Rock!

So this weekend my girlfriend and I went to see Steve Ignorant preform his old Crass songs for one last tour (amusingly enough called “The Last Supper”). Not a bad way to spend a Good Friday if you ask me.

Before the show there was an interview and book signing at Hits and Misses, a small little shop on Queen St. Now before I get into the interview, and meeting Steve Ignorant, let me just say Rotate This has some of the best stock of 7 inch vinyl that I have seen at a store in a long time.Sham 69, Condemned 84, Elvis Costello, Bad Manners? Yep, you can find them all there. So I will soon be broke again, but on the brighter side my record collection will have grown, just making me more correct in saying that my music collection is better than yours. But that is for another post...

Steve Ignorant showed up, and chatted with fans for a bit, and signed a poster for a friend of mine, which was pretty cool. Then the record store clerk started the interview, and Steve did his best to answer all questions tossed to him, telling the odd joke, and basically having a good time. He talked about songs and bands that influenced him, oi music, the Business, his admiration of skinheads who get it right, band fights, growing up in the UK and writing his book. A book which by the sounds of it should be a cool little read, one I will be picking up when I have a few extra bucks... or considering my birthday is in June, if anyone wants to grab me a copy and put a pretty bow on it, that'd be a cool little gift.

Half way through the interview, a young peace punk girl asked Steve some interesting questions. She was asking about how he felt playing without the rest of the Crass, playing in larger venues, and charging 20 bucks a ticket (plus the extra ticket master tossed on to sell the tickets). All were legit questions I thought, and Steve started to give his answers. Not a big deal really. But what did bug me is this little punk girl started to cut him off when he tried to answer all of her questions, accusing him of selling out, betraying the Crass and blah blah blah...

This girl tried to put Steve in his place, and was quite rude and insulting to him, and the unfounded lack of respect bugged me. But Steve, to his credit took it in stride. She told him how he should have made this a DIY (do it yourself) tour, and not play in large “corporate” venues, and the ticket prices were too high. Steve countered (or tried to, she kept cutting his answers down, because she was more “Punk' than him, and she knew it) that he was coming over from the U.K. plane tickets are not cheap, hotels and buses were not cheap, and he wanted this to be a quality tour, and booking agents, sound men, etc etc would all want to get paid for their time and effort. We all have rent to make, bills to pay, mouths to feed (Steve as it turns out has a dog he misses very much), and as great as it would be to tour like it was the 80's all over again, the world has changed, and it just costs more to do things. And you know what? He is right.

The girl then bitched him out about how she wants to remember the Crass as they used to be, as a peace Punk political band, and not a “corporate” one man show. Steve said if she didn't like it, no one was forcing her to go to the show. She then said that she was not... and this bugged me the most.

Now before I go on about my thoughts on this, and why she pissed me off, I'd like to say for the record I've never been the biggest Crass fan. This is not meant as an insult to the Crass, I've just always been in the boss reggae camp, and even a little bit into the older oi sounds. There are Crass songs that I do like however, and for the most part I have always respected a lot of the bands morals and such, so please do not think that what I am about to write comes from some uber fan response. This is not a “you insulted my idol, so I hate you and feel the need to tear you down” posting.

The first thing that bugged me about all this was that Steve was trying to answer this girl 30 something years younger than him, showing her nothing but respect, and treating her as an equal. She did not treat him with the same respect, even though she claimed to be a big fan.

The second thing that bugged me was her going on about “corporate” venues and such. The Opera House (a venue in Toronto) is a far cry from the Rogers Center (or SkyDome as all of you older people reading this might remember it.) or any other big stadium. Yeah we would all love to see the bands we listen to play in our basements or backyards, but for some of the older and more popular bands, this is just not possible. 2000 people will not fit in your backyard (unless you are a rich kid, and if you are having any Punk band play your place might not be the best idea you have ever had). So a medium sized venue is the best bet for fans. And make no mistake, this tour is actually for the fans. Also, I'm looking at the ticket stub right now, and it doesn't say “Coca-Cola presents Steve Ignorant's Crass”. The man is in his 50's and singing Crass songs at the top of your lungs is hard enough on a young persons vocals. Give the guy a break.

Which brings me into point three. I'm in my 30's. Sleeping on a friend ratty old couch or dirty hard floor is really something I'd rather avoid. One night? Not so bad... A weekend? Hard on the back, but it can be done. But for every night for more than 5 months? To hell with that! Even when I was a teen that would have been horrible on my back. Steve Ignorant had to do that back when Crass toured. Do you think that your father could do that (or god help me, depending on the age of whoever is reading this, your grandfather)? Of course not. Let the man have a tour bus and hotels. He has earned it.

Now we get to point four... This tour was not about the money. And it was easy to see that it was not by Steve deciding to hold little book signings at smaller indie places. Anyone and everyone was welcome to come in and talk to Steve. He was autographing anything he was asked to (my girlfriend asked him to autograph a Crass Poster she bought, and commented how she was amazed that he spelled her name right, most people adding extra letters... so under her name he wrote 'mouthy bitch' as a joke, and then signed my name to her poster and wrote 'nice bloke' to everyone's amusement). He posed for photographs with anyone who asked for them, and talked to anyone who wanted to have a quick chat. This is a man who enjoys his fans. And it showed during the book signing, the entire time he was on stage, and the time he spent off stage after the show chatting up fans.

Last but not least, point five. This girl asked some interesting questions. And if she had let Steve answer them, I'm sure she could have asked a few more interesting ones. Then maybe we all could have had a good time at the show. But she wasn't even going to the show. She just stopped by to cut Steve down because he was not as punk anymore in her eyes. When you are passionate and stand for something, this is fantastic. But when you decide to prejudge something before you give it a chance and just show up to prove you are better than everyone else, I have to say, that's not punk, not by a long shot. That makes you a jerk. But you did show us all that Steve can handle jerks, as he easily brushed you aside when it became clear you were just arguing to be a jerk, and continued to amuse everyone with tales of being the singer for the Crass.

I suppose I should mention something about the actual concert itself. Pretty damn good. What, you want to hear more about it? Go buy a ticket and find out for yourself, you wont regret it (unless you are too Punk to enjoy yourself)!

 

 

-Kyle Trojan Murphy-
Big Wheel Contributor - Canada

 

 

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