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I STARED AT three fellows from the SF punk
band the Swingin' Utters and asked them point
blank, "Where were you ten years ago?"
Max Huber, who plays rhythm guitar for the
boys, was the first man under 1
the gun. "Uhm, I was living in
Washington, DC, and I think I
was in the eighth grade. I
sold Christmas trees on the
weekend, and these guys
that I worked with would
always get me drunk. I'd
bring a thermos of coffee,
and they'd dump half of it
out and fill the rest of it up
with Kahlua. At only four-
teen," Huber laughs, "I'd be
smashed by the end of the
day-just giving Christmas
trees away."
"I had just moved to Santa
Cruz. I was a skater at the
time," chuckles Darius Koski
who plays lead guitar, "and
that's funny to me. I got my
first job in '85, and I worked
at Der Weinershnitzel. I was fifteen and worked
there about six months, and it gave me zits."
"Whelp," bassist Kevin Wickersham begins,
"I just got out of high school and was going to
junior college. I worked at Togo's, and I was the
manager, so we got to drink all the beer we
wanted. We'd steal a bunch and take it to a
drive-in and drink it."
The Swingin' Utters have definitely come a
long way since, or so it seems. After the band
(also including vocalist Johnny Peebucks and
Greg McEntee on drums) finished their nine-
teen song debut called The Streets of San
Francisco (which was produced by Rancid gui-
tarist Lars Fredericksen), the Utters embarked
on a national tour with Chaos UK. And except
84 THRASHER
The
SWINGIN'
UTTERS
for the inconvenience of booking errors that
caused them to cancel twelve shows (shit!), a
high point of the tour-like playing the Beer
Olympics at a punk squat house in Brooklyn-
gave them a whole new perspective about
being on the road. "The tour changed most
everything," says Huber. "The energy and the
crowds at the shows changed our playing-it
just completely energized us permanently."
Their sound, much like traditional late seven-
ties/early eighties English melodic punk, with its
visual style and stage charisma, makes them lik-
able by most everyone. At a typical Utters show
you'll see a variety of faces in the crowd includ-
ing punks, rockabillies, trads, skaters, crusties,
you name it, and with the discouragement of
any macho or racist bullshit, most anyone can
come and have a good time. The guys them-
selves are a pretty mixed bag visually, repre-
senting a mirror image of their audience.
The Swingin' Utters just are who they are, no
insta-punk posing allowed. "The whole idea of
the rock-n-roll image thing," sputters an irritat-
ed Koski, "is disgusting to me--it makes me
totally sick. I mean, if
there's some really intense
punk band who's totally
into their image, and they
think they're so hot, and
then they talk shit about,
say, Motley Crüe, their ass
should be kicked immedi-
ately-because it's the
same thing."
"So where do you see
yourselves in ten years?"
I questioned.
"Married and fat and
still in school," says a high-
aiming Wickersham. "And
hosting MTV," adds Huber.
"I'd be incredibly rich,"
fantasizes Koski. "I'd have
a house in North Beach,
and I'd have a poodle.
I'd have my own recording
studio and all the instruments that I want and
just make records. I'd have a band, much like
this one, which would be great if we were
together for that long." Koski pauses for a sec-
and and adds, "but that might be pathetic.
"I see myself," concludes Huber, "playing
with the Swingin' Utters on the moon at the
Moon Festival, drinking space beer with aliens
and shit."
Hhm. From little drunk, zit-faced, Christmas-
tree-givin'-away alcoholics to playing the ficti-
tious Moon Festival. Not bad. Of course, I
assume Wickersham would still steal some
space beer and go to the moon drive-in and
drink it there. Some things never change.
-Sara Tassione
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Hardcore Breakout 2
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