Clockwise from top leit: Septic
Death main man, Pushead." "From
the depths of...", James Hetfield
announcing harshly. The Skipper
crooning. Typical aggressive.
crowd shot. Paul Bimbaum, Sep-
tic Death's speed basher.
by Billy Bitter
Photos by Tom Cogan
So there I was, I'm playin' Bill Donahue's
Potrero Club-stucco's fallin' off the wall,
crowd's goin' nuts, I'm singing my nightclub
version of "My Way," 3 encores, the whole
shot and from outta nowhere comes this
noise. I stop my act and say, "Hey, why do
1. Billy Bitter, have to put up with this
racket...?" Someone from the audience
tells me it's coming from down the street.
The Farm-"Yeah, I played there in '63...a
benefit for the Lee Harvey Bullet Fund." So
I do two more encores, split the stage and
see what all the commotion is about.
My entourage and I pull the limo up to this
place and there's all these punk-rock/skater
types milling around.
"Wait a minute, no one said there were
going to be heathen scum down here!"
says L. "They're almost as obnoxious as
me." I step out of my rent-a-coupe and go
to the door with my fifth wife, Margarita-
the greatest thing since pan dulce. The
doorman I recognize as James Muir.
"James," I quip, "I deserve to be
backstage. Do your best to give me
everything."
He takes a quick leer at my wife-and
who wouldn't-and says, "Billy, we've been
expecting you." Now I'm where I belong,
with the stars...
The inside of this place looks like a multi-
media event. A stage and a skateboard film
presentation by my good friend Jon
Malvino. Skate dogs twisting and turning....
On stage, some guys with a bad attitude
problem are bashing away with their
guitars. It resembles my old act. Anyway,
the crowd's going nuts and someone says
that it's Christ On Parade. Now these guys
aren't really what you'd call a nightclub act.
They're yelling and screaming about all
sorts of politics. Politics-did I tell you I
used to open for Barry Goldwater... I need
a martini but get handed a beer instead.
Drunk Injuns reincarnate. Johnny
Yuma left, Joey Headbone right. Sad-
ly, the five members and one sober
injun roadle were killed again, this
time in a 66 car pile up on the way
back to the Dakotas. The spirit world
beware.