SKATE ROCK
Skate
CALIFORNIA
BRNZSK8
BORN TO SKATE SKATE ROCK VOL. 5
SIDE ONE
S.N.FU. VISITING THE BAD AGAIN RACER X-AZ-HAPPY GO HAPPY
STUPIDS BORN TO BUILT TO GRIND EIGHT DAYS A WEEK-WHAT'S
SO STRANGE ABOUT ME? CONDEMEND ATTITUDE? HOMELESS
CREW NO MERCY DIE OR BE KILLED NAKED LADY WRESTLERS
SCRAPING THE TOP OF THE BARREL J.F.A. 1-10 EXCEL.
INSECURITY DEHUMANIZERS - SHU DU VWA
SIDE TWO
THE DI'S PRAY FOR SURF CONDEMNED ATITUDE? WHEN WORLDS
COLLIDE RACER X-AZ-BLARIN IN THE CHAIR EIGHT DAYS A WEEK
-DIFFERENT WORLDS J.FA-TURKEYS CARVED BY UFO'S SN.FU
-TIME TO BUY A FUTON STUPIDS WIPEOUT BEOWULF HUSSY
DEHUMANIZERS-HALFPIPE SCREAMIN' LORD SALBA & HIS HEAVY
FRIENDS KINGS OF TRASH
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Apsalter
skater, laid out some pulsing and psychedelic guitar lines while
the two drummers kept a primitive and palpitating beat.
The natives were unusually quiet during NSA's set. They sat
and absorbed the incoming sounds. I suggested to Dick that
perhaps they were under sedation.
Bad Mutha Goose and the Brothers Grimm took over the stage
next with righteous riffs and a funkomatic beat. Three singers,
two men and a maiden, contributed to the Brothers' strong and
soulful sound. Tim Kerr took care of the muff-tone guitar. The jam-
ming was so intense that his amplifier rocked back and forth with
the jungle jive.
Poison 13 began with Mr. Kerr saying, "Yo, this one is for
Caballero. He's riding right now and this is one of his favorite
songs." At that precise moment, the Cab finger-flipped a tall
backside air and sailed it back onto the ramp. Immediately
thereafter, Poison 13 went into "Horror Business" by the Misfits.
They rocked through a tight, tough set of hard-driving tunes dug
from a vintage vein. The highlight of the set was when Kerr put
down his clear Dan Armstrong/Greg Ginn Deluxe guitar and
strummed a Silvertone for a sliding blues sound. The small but
happy and friendly crowd was content to kick back and consider
the cool tunes the bands belted out.
Poison 13 then made room for a reunion of the notorious
Offenders, who got down and dirty with a version of the Vanilla
Fudge's cover of the Supremes' "Keep Me Hangin' On." Then
during the anthemic "I Hate Myself," the singer jumped into his
chorus of screaming slammos while security sought to keep the
peace.
It was after this little bit of fun that a blue-suited authoritarian
figurehead commandeered the microphone and threatened, "If
you thrash, you go to jail." With this stipulation of "law and
odor" over, it was up to Cargo Cult to maintain mayhem. Fronted
by the Biscuit, Cargo Cult singed the listeners' ears with tearin'
tunes and off-beat rhythms. While the band wailed on, Biscuit
gave it his all, which is a helluva a lot of song and soul.
Finally, the Hickoidz rendered some shit-kickin' get-down
sounds. Meanwhile, on the arena's wooden floor, a group of
skaters rode their snuck-in sticks to the music. A roller rink route
ensued between tables and security guards. Drifts and slides
awaited skater command on the kind wood. A young islander
by the name of Little John proved to be a big ripper.
The event concluded as a couple of punkins offered Chicklets
for the especial sale price of two for 25c. They needed boat fare
for the long voyage to the Island of San Antonio.
It had been a hard night for Dick, so we opted to shoot over
to Biscuit's Bat Cave to wind down. Once there, we marveled
at the big man's collection of authentic island art. Mr. Biscuit asked
if we cared for any liquid refreshments, "Lemonade?" he offered,
"Milk? Whiskey?" With that last word, Dick came alive, but just
as quickly Biscuit thought again. "No, we don't have any
whiskey," he said.
A notably angry Dick cried, "He went and said whiskey," in
a loud and sorrowful voice. Luckily, Mr. B. had some other spiritous
liquors on hand, and Dick was soothed to a calm.
A little later, when Dick was feeling real fine, an island girl
asked, "What's the matter, boy, can't you hold your liquor?"
"No," Dick replied. "Here, you hold it....
blaaughughughughugh!"
"2000 Maniacs," a documentary on Austin Island life was on
the tube, and we compared cultural similarities. Soon the topic
turned to parental powers of misunderstanding. We all agreed
that even on different islands, its symptoms did not vary much.
Tim related a story about the first time his dad came to see
the Big Boys play a luau. "Hey, why didn't you stop that big
fight his dad asked, referring to the slam-type thrashing that
whet down during their set.
"They weren't fighting," Tim replied. "They were having fun."
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