BEVEL
Top row-(Left to right): Street Scott tries to
sing Fun, Fun, Fun with the Big Boys.
Having fun backstage. Brian Branon reeling
back in inspiration. Eddie Rategui offers
armpit for inspection. Bottom-left to right:
Brian Branon at the ramp house. The crew
crossing the San Francisco Bay Bridge
en-route to the ramp house. G.S.D. match-
Ing moves on stage in Hollywood. Don
Pendleton skating hard. Adam Bomb and
Caballero of the Faction. Big Bob of Agres-
sion. Kiddies and Rock and Roll. More
Agression. Tim and Biskut knodding to-
ward insanity. Biskut, speeding two-board
Daffy
that I've made" by Mach IV of the GODS
OF SOUND; some skate and destroy
emblemage, and I even made a few marks
by borrowing one of the glittery utensils.
And let me tell you right now, nothing beats
those pens when it comes to quick incon-
spicuous graffiti. There are even one-inch
wide pens, perfect for those big lettered
slogans.
The trip back to San Francisco was
uneventful. The passengers included the
J.F.A. band, manager Tony Victor, a
couple of madmen drivers, Chris of the Big
Boys, and myself. It was a long haul, with
one stop in Bakersfield sometime in the
middle of the night at 5 a.m.
I woke up sweating like a skinless dog
baking in an empty bus, parked in some
lawn-trimmed suburban neighborhood.
After a quick search, I banged on the
correct door to the house where everyone
was hanging out. They had refreshed
themselves with a few hours of semi-re-
30
laxed sleep. Myself, nothing to speak of.
But that's okay. I had a job to do: GET
THIS TRIBE BACK ON THE ROAD FOR
AN EXCLUSIVE PHOTO/SKATE SES-
SION IN OAKLAND!
On the road out of this exciting town,
Tony Victor hopped into the back of a
convertible-VW bug that was passing by.
The two young ladies occupying the front
seats were caught by complete surprise.
Tony basically looks like a terrorist, so one
could imagine their increasingly growing
concern. After they ejected him, we
resumed our trek.
The drive was a sweaty one. The grime
must've been an inch thick on our collective
flesh. I felt like a "gurby sewer pilot" and
desired nothing better than to bask
beneath a shower.
Sitting there made my mind begin to
dribble out my ears. For stimulation, I
allowed myself to think. I first thought
about being trapped in a roomful of naked,
blonde, teenage females. It was a good
hour and a half of intense concentration. I
was hopelessly trapped with no escape.
The stuff you see in the movies. Girls who
come out west to seek their fortune with no
talent, no culture, but bodies that wouldn't
quit and they'd do anything to get in front of
a camera.
Somehow I got sidetracked from this
plush and pleasurable brain-prison thought
and flashed on the possibility of inter-
viewing J.F.A. while we were trapped. I
pulled out a tape recorder, assembled the
boys into a tight "pow-wow" and shoved
the first question into Bam-Bam's
face...and:
Hey, what's your problem?
Bam-Bam: My problem? My problem, it is that I
have not one thousand nineteen dollars and
seventy-two cents.
So when's the last time you had cornflakes?
Bam-Bam: Since I was a little boy.
Why are you like that?
Bam-Bam: Why not?
Which way is north?
Bam-Bam: That way.
(The kid was sharp, I couldn't trip'him up
anywhere. Another question...)
Hey, could I bum a cigarette off you?
All: Yeah, how many do you want?
One at a time. How about a match? Who are
you guys anyway?
Brian: Bobaba.
Bam-Bam: Burt Reynolds and Dolly Parton.
Who are you guys really?
Don: Who are you?
Oh, so you named yourselves after a WHO
song?
All: What?
That song by the WHO, called "Who are
You?"
Don: No, no.
Brian: Do you really want to know?
Are you guys trying to be funny or is this
really your name?
Don: What, "Who are You?"
Yeah, is that the name of your band?
Don: What was the original question?
Who are you guys anyway?
Brian: Bo-ba-ba from Zimbabwe.
Spell that.
Brian: B-O-B-O-B-A (sic). It rhymes with Jojaba.
That's good. You guys are in some army or
something, right?
Don: Do we have to put the blocks in the
squares?
Bam-Bam: I don't need to use a hammer, man.
So you're Jody Foster's Army. How long
have you been together?
Bam-Bam: Four years now.
Don: Three years.
Bam-Bam: It's May twenty-something.
Don: Three years. We played in May 81.
Bam-Bam: We played May 2nd.
Don: Sometime right after Reagan got shot,
that's when we started.
Did that inspire the band's name?
Don: It's just a combination of a lot of things.
The name is just a literary symbol, you just say
it and everybody out there fills in the gaps.
It's up to interpretation then.
Don: Yeah, you just say it, and that flood of all
the shit that people think about it is what makes
us bad. We're actually not saying shit, we're just
J.F.A.
You guys got any sexual preferences to
Jody Foster?
Don: She's kinda fat, isn't she?
Bam-Bam: She got busted for cocaine. That
makes her a real person, she feels pain too.
Alleh: She knows Nastassia Kinski real well
though.
Don: Maybe she could introduce us.
I went to school with Nastassia.
Don: No-----
Yeah, high school. Romania High. Give me a
rundown on your Individual Inputs Into the
band and who you are (for all the geeks out
there who don't know who you are).
Brian: Let me tell about what I did last night.
Don: You mean what we do in the band?
Allen: Here, let me simplify it for you. If you were
to be introduced on a game show, what would
they say about you?
Brian: Well, sometimes a man just has to do
what a man's gotta do...
Don: Tell him your name, Hugo.
Brian: Bo-ba-ba
What's your name, Bob? Ten seconds...Do It
or I'll kill you.
Brian: Bobaba, Ishimizu. Last night I just could
31