Nores FROM The
UNDERGROUND
W
HEN I FIRST HEARD
about the Social Chaos tour
I was skeptical about the
$25.00 ticket price to see a bunch of washed-up
old (some of these guys must be in their forties)
punk bands. Rehashing the glory days of punk
rock like some repackaged nostalgia trip down
memory lane did seem somewhat contrived
any
THE VIBRATORS
GET OFF
and, dare I say, commercialized. Then something
funny happened. I got a call at the Thrasher office
from James "Red Dog" Muir at Dogtown
Skateboards, who also handles business for Suicidal
Tendencies (who were not on the tour). Jim said he
had an old friend of mine working there who I hadn't
seen since the tenth grade. We got to reminiscing and
turns out that her roommate goes out with Ron
Emory, the guitar player for TSOL. Not only that, but
she was coming up to SF for the Social Chaos tour and
could get me in on the guest list. Fast forward to the
night of the show. The damn thing started at 6:00 PM,
which
is way too early for any self-
respecting punk rocker to do anything,
but I tried to convince myself it was
more of a Sunday matinee type deal.
My
friend called
Ime and told me to
pick her up at Mel's Diner. She is from
out
of town and probably thought it
sounded familiar, but I wonder now if
she saw the irony of our rendezvous at
San Francisco's most glaring cheese
factory and tribute to America's neu-
rotic obsession with repackaging and
selling its nostalgic past. Do I have
issues or what? As we approached the
hall I was greeted by pro vert dog Max
Schaaf, who was heading home with a
foreboding warning regarding the
wackness that we had in store. Not a
good sign. Well yes, the place was too
big; it was actually two floors with two
stages
its
ages and continuous music. It was
crowded with tons of intoxicated gutter punks, skin-
heads, and a sprinkling of longhairs. But what the
hell? The night would not have been complete with-
out an air of mayhem and healthy dose of bad atti-
tude. There was nothing going on downstairs when I
got there so I immediately went to the main stage
and caught
a smoking set by Canadian stalwarts
DOA (Lance Dawes claims they coined the term
"hardcore" in punk rock). Singer/guitar player
Joey Shithead looked like he had just stepped out
thei
time machine and the pit was circling into a
frenzy. After DOA came the UK Subs, who
were one of my personal favorites of the
person
evening. Oi boys The Business came on next
and the skins were stoked. Everyone raised their
fists and stomped their feet and I'd imagine the
bartenders were really busy. In the midst of their
set, I stole downstairs to see some original
American thrash punk à la million-miles-per-hour
and indecipherable-screaming lyrics from DRI
(definitely one of the greatest bands of all time).
Unfortunately the sound sucked down there so I
bailed back upstairs to await the high point of the
evening: TSOL. In the crowd I spotted Thrasher's
own Chef Pierre, who is always a champion. I also
ran into SF local skaters Alec and Xavier, who in
true old-school form had snuck in a bottle of vodka
and heckled me for not partaking in the belligerence.
Sorry boys, I'm on the wagon. Before TSOL came on,
most of the crowd had filed downstairs to see the end
of DRI's set, so I was able to walk right up to the front
驗
CK GRISHALY
WHEEL
of the stage and secure myself a spot with only the
metal barrier and a few steroid bouncers between
THE CROWD GOES GAGA
ARIA ANC
JOEY SHITHEAC
These photos were found in the pit in a
disposable camera after the Social Chaos show.
à
It
me and the ensuing action. From my elite van-
tage point I was able to soak in every nuance of
TSOL's energetic and eerie set. Ron Emory's gui-
tar playing and songwriting is truly unique.
reminded me that TSOL are one of the greatest
influences from that moment in punk rock; no one
really ever captured or even approached their style.
The singer, Jack, came out wearing his trademark
black blazer complete with assorted punk pins on the
lapel, but he mixed it up with a long black skirt. It was
an ensemble that reflected the rebellious comedy that
made punk rock so fun in the first place. Their set con-
sisted exclusively of tracks from the first
self-titled EP, Dance With Me, one of the
sell-th
greatest rock albums ever, and the 7" EP
Weathered Statues. The crowd was loving it
loving it
but Jack felt there was something missing.
Then, in rare example of punk rock com-
munication, negotiation, and refusal to com-
promise, he convinced the bouncers to bail
and allow anyone and everyone to who want-
ed to join the band on stage. This moment of
mayhem crystallized the good feeling of the
evening, and showed to all what a good combi-
nation of mischief, tomfoolery, and adolescent
persistence can truly achieve. In all the night
was a blast for everyone in attendance. The
bands rocked, the beer flowed, and the mood
was 100% chaos! -Eb-Dog 55... "A band that
plays so hard, they leave the stage with bloodied
hands." Sure. One musical cliché after another, right?
"Futuristic aural soundscapes" and all that other bull.
So leave it to Minnesota's Dillinger Four to cut
through the wasteland of
of overproduced fodder and
offer up something threatening. When The Four start
rockin' their Midwest mayhem, their hands do bleed,
and they do
off the crowd unlike any other. Their
y do set
bass player even has the words "How Much Art Can
You Take?" tattooed in huge letters across his chest.
How punk is that? D4 just finished a stint on the Take
Action Tour, showcasing such Hopeless/Sub City
Records bands like Fifteen, Falling
Sickness, and
Scared Of Chaka. Sub City is the new Hopeless
is the new ho
offshoot dedicated solely to releases which sup-
port not-for-p
not-for-profit orga
organizations. The best part
IS
and
is that,
unlike most benefit records where the
proceeds are deducted from the band's account
while the label gets fatter, Sub City has vowed to
chip
in some cash as well. Organizations that
have benefitted so far include Schools For
Chiapas, the Redwood Summer Justice Project,
The Foundation Fighting Blindness, and SF's own
Larkin Street Youth Center. -Ryan Henry...Ted
Leo saves. OK, maybe he's not ready to be
ordained just yet, but the former Citizens
Arrest and Chisel frontman: on his own and is
own and
intent on making us believers. In a team-oriented
ented
scene, where only neo-folk acoustic artists like
Elliott Smith strike it solo, Leo's move toward
center stage is as deliciously brave as his songs
are desperately driven. Live, Leo belts out inspirational, hook-laden
tunes with aplomb (à la Elvis Costello, perhaps) armed with just
an electric guitar and a reel-to-reel. On his recently released tej leo
(?), Rx./Pharmacist(s), he samples his own songs, taping track on
top of track and taking post-hardcore to another level of decon-
struction. Drink the Kool-Aid... On a more up-and-up note, Buried
Alive has finally come out with their debut Death of Your Perfect
World. OK, the truth is that the record was released some months
ago and I am just getting off my lazy duff to do something about
it. While the band features vocalist Scott Vogel from Despair (and
included Despair's drummer Jesse Muscato for a while), Buried
Alive has a far fuller, more complete sound than Vogel's previous
project. The band plays the sort of Slayer-esque chug-a-chug-a pit
core that's whoppin' the kids into a frenzy. Look for these guys in
their snappy new van (which is probably used) on tour with Reach
the Sky and All Out War through September, Snapcase in
October, and then in Europe toward November. -Joseph Epstein
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