|
|
Ruthie’s Inn
reunion. NIMBY.
Oakland. September
23, 2006
Ode to the Easy Bay
Or “Decline #6”
Sammy and Johnny sorted out who would headline in West Oakland . Billy Joe
and Bono played the Superdome to NFL crowds in New Orleans. What a weekend
it was. And which event was more culturally significant – depends on
the view.
Whether Sammy or Billy Joe, each could learn something powerful from the
other.
Here I am in a mechanical world
Mechanical boys, mechanical girls
They said I’m not like them
They put me in a special place
They said I was a big disgrace
To the human race
My mother was a junkie
My father was a faggot
…
They told me I was a vagrant
They put me behind bars
They said I was a miscreant
They said I was rapist
They called me a murdered
They called me a junkie
They said I did not belong in the
World of Law
-1982
Green Day could learn something of the authenticity and danger and sex from
Fang. While Fang could learn something of moving forward and the strength
of delicacy from Green Day.
St. Jimmy's coming down across the alleyway
Upon the boulevard, like a zipgun on parade
Light of a silhouette, he's insubordinate
Coming at you on the count of 1, 2, 3, 4
My name is Jimmy and you better not wear it out
Suicide commando that your momma talked about
King of the 40 thieves and I'm here to represent
The needle in the vein of the establishment.
I'm the patron saint of the denial with an angel face
And a taste for suicidal cigarettes and ramen
And a little bag of dope.
I am the son of a bitch and Edgar Allan Poe.
Raised in the city under a halo of lights.
The product of war and fear that we've been victimized.
Are you talking to me?
-2004
The East Bay
took center stage in a significant way in both performances at too
different parts of the country. Green Day are royalty of rock alongside
Irish wimpo Guitar and Political heros while trying to help New Orleans .
Fang and friends in Oakland while trying to hold on to, and maintain some
of the cultural roots, that are mostly gone from the flats, as Emeryville
had turned into Malls and Condos over the past 20 years, and then the
factories, steel workers, and the West Oakland of the Sleeping Car Porters
Union - and New Method scraped to the ground, slip into history – and
the roots of California Punk struggle to survive as more than mere memories
like those of near by Shipyards of WWII.
There is no doubt that all things said, Green Day is the better
“band” … but there is nothing they’ve done that
comes close to the honesty, directness, terror, personal soul-baring depth
and humor as the first Fang album.
Ruthie’s Inn and the Telegraph, Silverball, Universal scene really did bridge the gap
between the true early S.F. Punk scene of the Dils,
Mutants, Pink Section, and that of the Gilman
Street kinder-revival of the late 1980s of
Rancid, Crimp Shrine, Green Day. And of any of the
Bay Area scenes from the Summer of Love, to People’s Park, to the Mab, Gilman Street, Raves and Burning Man, the scene of
Ruthie’s Inn was by far the largest hotbed of delinquency, hard
drugs, multi-racial multi-gender macho anger. And certainly Ruthie’s
was the scene with the most holistic native East
Bay population.
Some highlights of the night: Sothira’s
craning neck screaming Motorhead-like into the
too-high mike. The halfpipe with Joel and Dave
keeping the kids in gear and grinding the eight-feet-to-vert
lip. The wall of photos of the pit in the early 80s. The creatures with the
full face tattoos. The jailbait girls hanging by the oil drums of fire and
flames spreading sparks into the sky.
Verbal Abuse had by far the best crowd of the night. And the 40-somethings
and 20-somethings together clearing the floor, and Pat Tidd
doing his patented backflip off the stage into
the arms and onto the muddy-wet concrete floor.
Hate to say it, but the best musical performance and stage presence was
indeed All Time Highs, whose Clash-esque
back-to-back guitar players cut a swath of sound and of hard and bouncy
grunge tango into the manufacturing hall air.
Another stadium show in New Orleans
is just another Stadium show. Billy Joe is good. And The Edge and guitars
soaring are great. And double drummers is cool and over the top. The fact
that Bono has turned the opinions of President Bush, and raised awareness
and support for fighting AIDS in Africa is
admirable. A cultural force on the world stage. And American Idiot is a
wonderful album. A great story – a concept album. And absolutely
amazing, not even the Stones did it, that 10-years after Dookie that anybody could pull out such overall quality
and relevance a decade later as seen in songs like “Are We The
Waiting”, “Extraordinary Girl”, and “Jesus of
Suburbia”.
There is a tie-in as Jimmy Thiebaud and a few
others straddled the worlds this past Saturday. And each contingent
continues to lean on the other.
In Oakland , though the crowd was small – the nervous,
tired, yet impossible to stop. The eerie energy was there. Though the mood
was pretty depressing at 5a.m. as
trash cluttered the floor and aimless leather kids were lit by the smoky
lights and the air began to cool from the 20-foot doors in the corrugated
metal which let the night in. Then the voice and stature of Sammy took the
stage. And Jimmy and with dripping face peeled Flying-V and sweat and
leather to a high level.
People there last Saturday included Josh L., Mark A., Mark D., Max F., Wes,
Tony, Rachael., Aaron O., Jason L., Sean C., Nina, Maude, Dean, Child,
Andrea M., Greg L., Markley, Orlando, and a thousand more.
It was talking to Jocko on Saturday that I remembered for the first time in
years that Fang had played a party in my living room with 200 people in
1983. That Joel F. and buddies had gone in the middle of the party, driven
around Berkeley, got beer, stolen a bicycle put it in the car trunk, were
seen by police on the way back and followed to my house. Police came in,
said hi, saw Denz and Rob and Sammy and BTU
and spurs and spikes, and god knows what all, but like nice cops let the
party continue after they left. And Fang played on. With China White in the
back room.
This past Saturday we missed many folks including Trip, Keckley,
Curtis, RxOxBx, Sunshine, Victor, Juliet, Matt,
Chris Wilson and Douglas , Brad, Ritter, and Turner.
Fang really sounded great. Crisp and hot, and alert, while unfortunately No
Alternative were mixed muddy and dead. “Communism and Tooth Decay. U.S.
will save the world today.” The smart, smart – fuckin’ try to be that smart you Vallejo, Rodeo,
Valley boys – words, guts. Sammy, without being full of himself, had
crafted at age 17, these great lyrics that took on these two agendas of the
United States
culture which are each equally ridiculous yet both taken overly seriously
by the nation and it’s cash. And on top of
that, the creepy self-deprecating ooey googyness of “Suck and Fuck”, and
“Your Cracked”.
As the night came to an end – we strolled back across blocks of
massive mid-Century West Oakland pot-holed manufacturing
buildings, with the echoing sound of Fang. The sound of rock and almost
industrial gothic hard core punk sound mixed with early morning fog, silent
streets, concrete, sleeping bags, and razor wire. Around the corner the
brand new beige and terra cotta townhouse loft spaces with fancy For Sale
real estate signs stood silent too. With fuzzy plants and flowers on
balconies. Contrast with the radiator fluid and battered garbage trucks.
Bearing witness to the end. And the death of another era. And the death of
the old West Oakland . As thousands of homes wait ready to be built next to
the old Southern Pacific train station in West Oakland , and the
punk of the past becomes no more than the Jazz of the Bee Bop Brooklyn of
the 40s. A great, but forgotten vibe with a meaning that no future revival
movement will ever really get. Just like no Royal Crown Review and swing
fans will never capture the jump jive and mode of the real thing. And yet
the music and lyrics of Fang and Sic Pleasure and Code of Honor and others
will have a lasting poetry and art that will live beyond the people, the
containers, and the steel, the boots, skirts, belts, buildings, or railroad
tracks.
Long Live Punk.
- Peter Montgomery. September 2006
# # #
|
