Punk Rock Academy Fight Song – Scratches and Needles

Everybody remembers their first time right? You know the awkward conversation, the nervous laughter, the slight feeling of dread, the incessant buzzing sound and in some cases a long drive home from Hollywood. Huh? What? Yeah that’s right we all remember our first tattoo. Because for a lot of us getting that first bit of ink under our skin is as much a rite of passage as well that other thing you thought I was talking about. For me it happened my freshman year in college I had forty bucks in my pocket from selling one of my textbooks and the long simmering desire to get tattooed. It wasn’t a rash spur of the moment decision fueled by too many shots of Bushmills but rather a sober rational thought almost as if I was just going down to the store to get some milk. No big deal really. I remember matter of factually telling my mom that I was going to Hollywood with my buddy Nate and that I was going to get tattooed. My mothers response was a resounding Por mi pinta te las nalgas-spanish for yeah right go get your ass tattooed. Now this response is important to note for two reasons number one that my mom is from Guatemala and in Guatemala only convicts had tattoos and number two i was a pretty good kid who was always threatening to do all sorts of goofy crazy things and my mom didn’t believe I would actually do it. So I kissed my mom goodnight headed over to Nates house and hopped on the 10 freeway on our way to Hollywood. At this point your wondering why the hell did this yahoo drive all the way out to Hollywood and the answer to that is that in 1994 the only place a kid from San Gabriel to get tattooed was either out in Hollyweird or in some gangsters garage or I could’ve joined the Navy and gotten one in the Philippines. About 30 minutes later we found ourselves inside LA Tattoo on Hollywood Blvd or was it Sunset or Melrose-whatever it was a typical Hollywood tattoo shop. The actual tattoo shop was in the back the front of the neon light place sold Harley T-shirts, belts chains and other assorted wannabe rocker paraphernalia. Me and Nate were looking for Baby Ray because our buddy Dario had gotten tattooed by him and he is apparently very well known. Lucky for me it was a slow night and Baby Ray wasn’t working that night-cause he would not have tattooed me for the measly 40 bucks I had on me. But the other guy working that night was bored and broke. So another 30 minutes and 40 bucks later I proudly strutted out of LA Tattoo with my badass piece of work- a superman shield with my initials in the middle freshly carved on my upper left arm, full color baby. I was now part of the underground society of badasses and we celebrated my induction with a tall can of Fosters.

Truth be told it was obviously a cheesey ass tattoo but at least it wasn’t a barbed wire arm band. But the experience wasn’t really about that first bad one but rather about the fact that I knew I wanted more. It was a validation of my status as a misfit and an outsider. I never wanted to be like everyone else, straight laced and boring. Maybe I was inspired by my uncle Herbert -he was a cousin of my moms who would visit us every now and then. He rode a motorcycle and always had this kinda weird smell hovering around him but he also had tattoos and was a little dangerous or maybe it was Popeye and the anchors on his forearms or was it Mike Ness when I first saw Social D looking like a pissed off inked up Elvis.

Something just hit me and it stuck. I always look at tattoos as away of keeping people at arms length and letting them in at the same time. They are a reflection of who I really am but if I don’t like you you’ll never know what they mean. They are an attention getter and a repellant all at once and I like it that way.To this day my mom still asks me if I’m ever going to stop and I sheepishly say no. Sorry ma I love’em. My dad thinks they’re cool and doesn’t care because I have my college degree. My wife is so used to the she forgets they’re on me and my daughter likes the smiling skeleton( it’s a skull and anchor) one day and is scared of it the next. And I still have that first bad one because much like that other first time it might not be the best but it happened and you gotta live with it.
 

-Daniel N-

 

 
Read more from Punk Rock Academy Fight Song HERE

 

 

Punk Rock Academy Fight Song – Banned in Vegas

In honor of you crew being in Vegas I though I'd share a Vegas story of my own.

We pulled into the parking lot of Whiskey Petes at some ungodly hour of the morning-not exactly sure when as the memory is a little fuzzy and the actual event was a lot fuzzier-and slowly, painfully peeled ourselves out of Johnny’s Nissan and staggered toward the lobby. The seven of us reeked like a distillery and looked like zombies. Our motley appearance made the usual denizens of this fine establishment look like European high society. If you’ve ever had the pleasure to set foot in Whiskey Petes then you have some inkling as to the visage we cut as we stumbled through the casino and up to our room to pass out and gather our senses. How the hell did we wind up in this place?( And if you’ve never been to Whiskey Petes try to keep it that way). About an hour earlier we had been gently awakened from our peaceful slumber at a prominent Las Vegas Hotel and been kindly asked to the vacate establishment by the management. Actually the hotel security  pounded on our door rousted us from our drunken half sleep, had us quickly gather our belongings, escorted us to the elevator and told us we were no longer welcome to stay at this hotel-ever.

It had all started innocently enough two days earlier when we left from Temple City headed for Vegas to watch NOFX for our buddy Adam’s birthday. Just a quiet weekend of Punk rock with a little gambling and maybe some cocktails in the evening. What could possibly go wrong. I mean so what if seven of us were sharing a double room and our luggage consisted mostly of twelve packs of Corona and a couple of guitars. Initially everything was smooth sailing as we pre partied and then made our way to the House of Blues for the show raucously belting out “Bottles to the ground” and “theme from a NOFX album” on the streets of Sin City. We even managed to finagle VIP wristbands at the show. Some guy from some local magazine thought we we were somebody and we went with it. In the words of Ray Liotta “Life was Good”. One of us even won 150 bucks on the quarter slots. Then it went down hill. 50 cent beers and dollar daquiries on Fremont street. Complimentary Martinis at the Video Poker Bar at our hotel.

Our hedonistic ways had gotten the best of us and the train quickly went off the rails. But come on we were in Vegas the town where just about anything goes and the first things that usually go out the window are moderation and common sense. And boy did we dispose of those two virtues in a hurry. Now on the scale of bad Vegas behavior we certainly weren’t on the level of counting cards or burying hookers in the desert or throwing furniture out the window but we were bad enough to have rubbed hotel security the wrong way. Among the litany of complaints were the obvious seven people in a double room, a brawl in the room that was apparently heard down the hallway, someone possibly urinating in a stairwell and a corona bottle used as a valve cover for an air mattress-you know the usual stuff. We were told that we had five minutes to pack up and leave this fine establishment. So despite being in various states of inebriation we got dressed in about three minutes flat and exchanged pleasantries with the rather large uniformed security detail that had been dispatched to deal with our unruly bunch. “Thank you for the pleasant stay, sorry about the noise.” Or something to that affect. We made our way to the parking lot, sardine canned ourselves into Johnnys Altima and got the hell out of dodge.

By now two things are apparent. Number one I’ve omitted alot of the details to protect the innocent and the not so innocent. And Number Two this one doesn't really have a lesson. Well actually it does- Don't party like NOFX unless you are in NOFX and you haven't lived until you’ve been kicked out of a hotel in Vegas. Besides who says learning cant be fun.
 

 

-Daniel N-

 

 
Read more from Punk Rock Academy Fight Song HERE

 

 

Punk Rock Academy Fight Song – We dont need no education

One of the great things about growing up is that you are able to gain perspective on the the things you did when you were a kid. You reexamine your actions your thoughts and your attitudes and sometimes you gain a greater appreciation for some of the people that pass through your life and the influences they might have had on you. Specifically I’m referring to teachers-the great underpaid under appreciated educators without whom you wouldn’t be able to read a damn thing I’ve just typed. Now you might be thinking I’m about to get on my soapbox and start preaching about how educators are getting screwed over by our awesome state because I happen to be a school counselor by day and now I have an outlet-but that would be too easy. Instead i’d rather explode the great rock n roll myth about how teachers are the enemy, the man trying to keep us down, the archenemy of youthful rebellion and exuberance. The reality however is quite different. I know this because of seen both sides.

In middle school and high school I was a Grade A smartass- especially to my history and English teachers. For the most part I was a respectful kid and a pretty good student but i just couldn’t resist a snappy comeback, a mischievous comment or an anti-authoritarian question.  I wasn’t the angry kid telling the teacher to F-off I was the bored kid that refused to believe that teachers were all knowing and shouldn’t be questioned. My history and English teachers bore the brunt of this behavior because those were the subjects that came easy for me and I didn’t know enough math and science to act up in those classes. Among my greatest accomplishments in high school were creating a collage about To Kill a Mocking Bird using only Mad Magazine and writing a research paper on Jack Kerouac using song lyrics as quotes and listing punk musicians as my sources-to my knowledge there are no books on the Beat poets written by a certain M. Ness, J.Ramone or I. Mackaye. I also managed to get myself kicked out of class and sent to the deans office by every english teacher I had in high school. So far I appear to be doing a horrible job proving my theory that teachers are not a bunch of geezers in bad ties meant to be harassed while we wait for lunch or football practice or the weekends coming parties, but I’m getting to that. Why? Because in addition to my laundry list of of teenage idiocy I also have a laundry list of teachers who were every bit as instrumental in shaping my ideals and idealism as any band whose music ever poured  through my speakers and into my impressionable adolescent brain. There was my eighth grade history teacher who actually thought enough of his students that he could tell us stories with profanity in them and know we wouldn’t rat him out to the principal or our parents and he also put up with my constant hippy and freedom rock references. There was my 9th grade Algebra teacher who was a certified genius,only gave us four problem tests and actually had me understanding algebra. Or my stage craft teacher who gave me the keys to the auditorium so I could fool around with the sound system when I didn’t feel like going to class. But the one I appreciate the most is the teacher who didn’t put up with any of my crap and told me I should join the marines to straighten my life out because I probably wasn’t going to amount to much - she didn’t say that to be a jerk she did it because she saw my potential. I went to college and grad school mostly to prove her wrong. More importantly she lit a fire under me that I try to light under my students.

So yeah some teachers are dictators and tyrants, some are out of touch but there's also a whole bunch that were crazy confused smartasses when they were kids. They’re ones who were too smart for their own good and wound up standing outside the door of their English class and they took the job to payback the teachers that gave them the breaks and the summers off aren’t bad either. And if I still haven’t managed to prove my point I have two final words- Greg Graffin!
 

 

-Daniel N-

 

 
Read more from Punk Rock Academy Fight Song HERE

 

 

Punk Rock Academy Fight Song – Anger is an energy

Last summer a good friend of mine introduced me to this then girlfriend at a BBQ by telling me that while they were discussing music he mentioned that I would probably be into some of the same bands as she was. Mind you my friends musical taste at times begins and end with DMX. So we proceeded to play rock and roll tennis -you know volleying the names of various indie alternative and Punk bands back and forth for a few minutes before she said “ I used to like Punk rock but I'm not that angry anymore.” I was taken aback for a moment but then I let it go and mentioned that I also liked The Killers and other stuff and then I politely walked over to the cooler for another beer to contemplate the exchange that had just taken place. It was almost like saying I used to like Marvin Gaye but I haven’t gotten laid in awhile so I’m over it.

Now I don’t consider my self a particularly angry guy, I’m not overflowing with misplaced aggression and unquenchable rage. I’m not the product of a broken home -I love my parents and I grew up in the suburbs. But things do get to me and things piss me off-my blood boils at people being disrespectful to women and I find it deplorable that racism exists- and you have to have an outlet-creative or otherwise. For years I worked at a group home for kids on probation and a lot these kids had big time problems with controlling their anger. They would fly off the handle for any little thing and would almost always wind up breaking something until they calmed down. So we would teach them techniques for managing their anger in an appropriate way -you know hitting a pillow instead of the wall or writing in a journal or stopping and counting to ten. now some of these worked and some did not and after a while it occurred to me that sometimes its alright to be angry and sometimes anger is a very acceptable and productive response. I like to call it righteous indignation. Being genuinely pissed off about some unjust situation and then doing something about it. Think about it without anger there would have been no civil rights movement, no American revolution, or any other action against tyranny and oppression. Hell there would be no overturned calls in sports for that matter. Sometimes you do have to argue sometimes you do have to “throw bricks”. Gandhi and MLK were angry they just channeled it into something positive. Just because I might be smiling does’nt mean I’m not angry. Now obviously being angry all time is not healthy or normal but then again neither is painting a fake smile on and pretending everything is all sunshine and rainbows. I just happen to think great things can come from properly channeled fury. It’s just like how water can sustain life, provide energy or create massive destruction.
 

 

-Daniel N-

 

 
Read more from Punk Rock Academy Fight Song HERE

 

 

Punk Rock Academy Fight Song – Freaks In Uniforms

I have a confession to make and I’ll just come right out with it- I was a high school football player and damn proud of it. Not quite as heavy a admitting to having been a junkie or having spent time in prison but sill a significant revelation considering the unwritten rule that punks and jocks go together like whores and church. But that's the thing about unwritten rules they’re unenforceable and in reality no one really knows who came up with them in the first place-so that makes them that much easier to cast aside. our popular mythology would have everybody believe that a real punk would never play organized mainstream sports(too much rules regulations and uniforms) and anyone who played sports and listened to Punk was just a meathead co-opting an righteous underground movement and forever tainting it with Gatorade and sweat. While there is always some essence of truth in all myth Im calling bullshit on ours. Contrary to what John Hughes films would have you believe jocks and Punks are not mutually exclusive no ones gonna revoke your membership into our club for having thrown around a football or sacking a quarterback-in fact it just might give you a little more cred.
 
I always loved sports as a kid and played AYSO soccer and Little League Baseball. The trouble was I wasn’t very coordinated and there fore not very athletic. In soccer I was the equivalent of a hockey goon not a lot of skills but maybe i could take you out. When it came to little league I had a lot of hustle and a lot of heart but the biggest problem was that I didn’t whine and I wasn’t a blood relative of the coach. And don’t get me started on the politics. So after a while my interest in playing organized sports waned and by middle school I focused on cooler pursuits like reading about history and listening to KROQ -you know that little radio station in Pasadena that played weird music once upon a time. However I still loved watching football-especially the Raiders and Howie Long.

Now by the time I got to high school I loved Punk rock and alternative music, rode a skateboard and read Tom Clancy novels -yeah I know he’s kind of right wing but since I'm being honest here I gotta own it plus this was 1989 and there was still that nagging threat of Soviet domination. Sorry for the digression. Anyway these three facts made me a prime candidate for the type of kid that according to popular culture should get picked on zealously by the jocks and cool kids or so you’d think. So I turned things on their head and joined the football team. I had three main reasons. #1- if I was part of the team then the guys most likely to kick my ass and make fun of me would have to embrace me as one of their own-sort of #2 I might get to date a cheerleader-c’mon who among us hasn’t had the dream of being the outsider who gets the popular girl  and #3 I really did like playing football-a sport where its encouraged to run around and smack people. Well as luck would have it my  most dominant physical traits are absurdly long arms, a hard head and the uncanny ability to absorb obscene amounts of punishment. Oh yeah and the ability to run incredibly slow for a skinny kid. Not exactly the portrait of an all American athlete but it didn’t matter because the football team at my high school to put it bluntly sucked. Also the football team was made up of gangsters, hoods, metal heads assorted screw ups and yes a few bona fide pretty boy jocks. The great thing was the older and much bigger guys took me under their wing and looked out for me-nobody would fuck with me in there presence. Despite my awkwardness I busted my ass on the field and never backed down from anyone despite almost always being over matched and that earned respect out of guys that otherwise would have thrown me in a trash can or just plain ignored me. Yeah they still made fun of me and one of my best friends on the team asked me if I was gay because I liked that you know gay music. But I loved it I took some poundings and even dished a few out and I played varsity for three years. I even got a letterman jacket that I proudly wore with a mohawk-even though we never won a game. No one really thinks about me as an athlete but they do know I was a football player. Playing football didn't make me into an asshole jock but it did expose me to new people and helped develop my personal strength and character. playing team sports might be one of the most Punk rock things any of could do. As for uniforms I'm sure nobody else owns a leather jacket, Ramones t shirt, or studded belts right?
 

 

-Daniel N-

 

 
Read more from Punk Rock Academy Fight Song HERE

 

 

In Defense of Punk Rock

Most of us who are into Punk rock initially got involved in the movement at some point in our teenage years. With acne on our faces, foam dripping from our mouths and giant chips on our shoulders we found excitement in music that was loud, full of energy, and completely anti authority. The excitement and fear that is associated with going to a Punk show for the first time is an unusual and unfamiliar feeling that leaves you constantly seeking the same sort of experience over and over again. Young punks become adrenaline and testosterone addicts much to the chagrin of their parents and teachers who pray that Punk rock will be a phase that passes quickly.

Records are bought, clothes are mutilated, hair gets sheered off or spiked up and dyed day glo colors. Somewhere along the line most punks find however that beyond the image and blasting guitars that being punk rock has deeper implications. Instead of just a uniform and musical style, Punk becomes a vehicle to reevaluate society and all of its roles. While there are many different cliques and sub tribes within Punk rock, all serious members of the culture have come to similar conclusions- that the world has become seriously fucked up as the result of mindless consumerism and abuses of power committed by establishments that were created long before any of us were born. As a result we respond in our own ways- some Punks become politicized while others reject their surroundings in purely social ways. Whatever form this rebellion takes on, one can be assured that people everywhere will notice the loud statements that punks make and will often respond with even more anger and hatred, further reinforcing a sense of alienation from society that almost all Punks have felt.

If all of this sounds like madness that's because it is. The Punk rock lifestyle is often overwhelming and exhausting. It can sometimes be a lonely path to walk but it seems that once you're in there is often back. When a mindset is changed radically it can be difficult if not impossible to go back to looking at life in a simpler and less antagonistic way. Yet inevitably as high school graduation approaches punks start dropping like flies, trading in the lifestyle for something that is more relaxed and seems more rewarding. As kids go to college they often pick up their class schedules and drop their Dead Kennedys records on their way.

Transitioning to the other side of society and crossing the line drawn in the sand to the side of the enemy must be a strange feeling, but like Joe Strummer said "He who fucks nuns will later join the Church." Of course it is understandable that people will change with age and find new interests and perhaps yet another new way to look at the world. At the same time though mainstream society seems so empty and void of substance and feeling. Maybe after years of spitting at the world that lack of substance and passion is exactly what some people go looking for. It might be easy just running on autopilot for a while.

Almost any Punk band that makes more than two or three full length records ends up becoming tame with time. The rawness of most Punk bands in their early stages is exciting and captivating. By the time most of these bands start to smell success though they seem to lose their desire to scream out their guts and emotions and those now empty guts seem to become hungry for a commercial reward. Bands who were once loved for playing raw and pure Punk rock rarely sound better when they turn their music into a more polished, sophisticated and "mature" product. The result is usually more disgusting than appealing and so all you old Punks who gripe about how your fan bases turned on you when you changed your sound, I have no sympathy. The so called "evolution" of bands usually adds up to a whole lot bullshit. If you want to make music that isn't Punk don't blame us when we turn your backs on you. Just like you once did we spit out the poison that society and the music industry tried feeding us because we didn't like it. It should be no surprise that when you try to emulate the "rock" music that we hate, that we want nothing to do with your fourth record. Don't forget you were once one of us.

The music industry as it stands offers nothing interesting or appealing to people who are looking for music that is energizing or thought provoking. Large venues gouge audiences' wallets while offering a less friendly and more anonymous experience. Why would someone want to pay sixty dollars to see a band play in a stadium rather than paying eight dollars to see a Punk band in a small space with a bunch of close friends? Overall the experience of seeing a big rock band is generally uninspiring and not engaging. At Punk shows people run around, singing along, and jumping on and off stage with bands playing. Admission is rarely more than ten dollars, records are almost never than twelve, and a T shirt that costs fifteen dollars is considered to be a complete rip off. It is not abnormal to go to a big concert and pay sixty to eighty dollars for a ticket, ten dollars for parking, six dollars for a hot dog, thirty dollars for a T shirt, and end up being nowhere close to the band. Meanwhile macho assholes who are trying to prove that they know how to "rock out" pick fights and throw up on the ground.

When people express a concern over the decline of the music industry it's hard not to laugh. That old beast is long past its expiration date and things have smelled rotten for a long time. In a last ditch effort major ticketing agencies and record labels are consolidating in an attempt to join forces in an evil alliance to survive a few years longer. Little good has ever come out of the commercialization of music. Perhaps the only interesting innovation that has ever come from those fuckers in their mansions on the hills is the "Wall of Sound" technique of recording that Phil Spector created when he was a key player in the music industry and look out how that old bastard turned out. Otherwise no great innovation has ever come out of the music industry that couldn't have been created in a less commercial atmosphere. The industry does not create music- it simply creates an outlet for products that more often than not probably would have been better if they were created in a more nurturing environment.

If the music industry ever collapses I will say goodbye with a "So long! Wish I could say it was nice knowing you." Make no mistake or misjudgment - if there were no commercial music industry that by no means would ever mean that there would be no music. One can guarantee with confidence that Punk rock would not suffer. In fact one could assume that if the playing field were leveled that few of the so called artists who are enjoying popularity now would still be successful when people actually began to seek out music rather than just having it served to them by mainstream media. Perhaps if this were the case people would learn what Punks have known all along- that the deeper a connection that one has to the roots of the music that they listen to the more satisfying it is to enjoy.

In short while I have learned to never expect that people who get involved with Punk rock at a young age will stick around for half as long as they say they will, let me remind our readers that at some point everyone involved in the punk movement came in looking for the same things and that the values that punk rock represents are still vital and important. While at times punk might seem juvenile, rehearsed, and perhaps even insignificant, know that we are fighting a good fight in a time of corruption and deceit. This undoubtedly will come off as idealistic, but the only thing that we can really hope to ever do is offer an alternative to mindless society and to do so by living as examples and rebelling in positive and thoughtful ways. To those who feel the need to change I say good luck and I hope that you find what you are looking for, but for those who stick around, give yourselves a pat on back and know that you are a part of something meaningful.

 

-Ditch-
Asst. Editor
Big Wheel Online Magazine

 

 

 

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