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Rating: «THERE'S ONLY PUNK HC!» with an exclamation point.
This is what has been prominently displayed on the wall of my village's elementary school for the past couple of years. Now there are two possibilities: either the village finances are so depleted that we can't even afford to paint over a square meter of public wall, or I've been living for thirty years in the cradle of punk rock without even remotely suspecting it.
Regardless of these minimal considerations, I've always wondered if the little hand that wrote such truth is aware of one of the greatest stories of punk across all eras and hemispheres; punk tout court, HC or not.
In any case, I'll recount it to the child, the Story with a capital S of Dangerhouse Records, which is more of a Tale with a capital T than a mere story.
Indeed, if you're among the lucky owners of the two anthology volumes that recount this tale through a journey of twenty-five tracks, you surely noticed that the liner notes begin with the familiar "Once upon a time...".
Once upon a time in Los Angeles, then.
Alright, Los Angeles anno domini 1977 isn't exactly the place to set stories of Sleeping Beauties and Prince Charmings, Little Thumbs, Hansels und Gretels, Snow Whites, and assorted dwarfs; so much so that the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen find no space here.
Here there are only, in alphabetical order, Randy Black, Garrett Pat, and Brown David, three failed musicians who were part of a failed band named Black Randy & The Metrosquad; they founded Dangerhouse Records. A prayer, until the end of days and beyond.
Now, if you've ever posed the fatal question, "Which is better, American or English punk?", the answer might be suggested by a band like Black Randy & The Metrosquad, but also by the Deadbeats, the Eyes, or the Screamers (where Brown played).
For me, I never had any doubts; American punk was better, because in the U.S.A., punk wasn't just fury and filth, but also and especially tons of genius and madness mixed into a truly revolutionary and frightening musical cocktail, and true punk is only that which scares reactionaries, conservatives, and bigots: and just to say, as a reactionary conservative bigot and also a homebody, the Pistols never scared me much, let alone the Damned, who I listen to through headphones even at night before I fall asleep with the lights off; at most the Stiff Little Fingers and the Clash, but not when they yell about how much the U.S. gets on their nerves, rather when they incite a white riot and even more so when they prompt rebellion in reggae forms like "Police & Thieves" and especially "The Guns Of Brixton"; bands like the Germs, however, scare me much more, even if in certain photos Darby Crash has a sweet look, or maybe precisely because of it, the Black Flag too, the Screamers I wouldn't listen to even under torture before going to sleep, because they would give me nightmares. Not to mention "Johnny Teardrop," which isn't punk but is the most terrifying thing I've ever listened to. Close your eyes, if you dare to face the monsters under the bed.
Let's get back to it; Black Randy & The Metrosquad, the Deadbeats, and the Eyes, the little they've recorded, they did it for Dangerhouse. The Screamers, officially, didn't record anything – the best rock'n'roll band without any records out, as Jello Biafra said – but if they had, it would surely have been for Dangerhouse.
But what kind of punk did these guys play? Because they played punk, there's no escaping from this.
Unstructured, without linearity, dissonant, saxophones, and synthesizers: for pure and hard punk, almost better and more intelligible are the free jazz accents of Eric Dolphy and Albert Ayler. And then, those Eyes that seem to be the demented version of They Might Be Giants and come up with tracks like "Disneyland" or titles like "TAQN" and "Eniwetok," how can you mosh and shout "Eniwetok" at the same time? Have you ever heard "Trouble At The Cup," I want to shoot a cop and watch him die like Johnny Cash, I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die? And "Let's Shoot Maria"? What is this stuff?
I'll tell you what it is, kid who goes around smearing walls: it's punk, even if someone wants to convince you it's "only" punk attitude.
I go crazy for this thing about punk attitude: have you ever heard of jazz attitude, folk attitude, prog attitude? No, I'd bet you haven't. Punk attitude, on the contrary, always comes up in any discourse, like snails after a rainy day. Ah, the Pogues, what punk attitude! Yes, but the Blasters weren't kidding when it came to punk attitude! What are you saying, Jason & The Scorchers, they had punk attitude. Just to say that punk attitude is just a label that hard and pure punk (an archetype I've always detested, as I once thought I was hardcore while I was only a fool, indeed) slaps around randomly not to be ashamed to admit they also like a bit of folk, country, and other pleasant genres. Johnny Cash is awesome! Of course, he plays country with punk attitude! Maybe if Johnny Cash ever met Darby Crash, he would have spat in his face (not true, he would never do that, but it gets the idea across). BR&TM don't cite Cash because he plays with punk attitude, but because they play and are punk: "I wanna shoot a cop and I wanna see him die" was sung by BR&TM, a punk group, "I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die" was sung by Johnny Cash, who was not punk and didn't even have the attitude, but being outrageous and rebellious, even if just to amuse the bourgeois, sometimes saying shocking things is not the exclusive prerogative of punk, it never has been.
Then, a punk group like the Deadbeats, hard and pure punk doesn't take a second look at because "Let's Shoot Maria" doesn't start with "One-two-three-four" (damn, it hurts to know the Ramones are almost all gone), there's not even a "Fuck you" or a "Motherfucker" in the lyrics, and anyway, it sounds strange, where's the classic E-A-D chord progression? (damn, it hurts to know the original performers of "Blitzkrieg Bop" are all gone).
Let's move on.
Know, dear little one, that hard and pure punk, if you get lucky, knows The Deadbeats' "Kill The Hippies," punk in form, as well as substance; and still recorded by the folks at Dangerhouse Records, need I say more.
Because of formal punk, Dangerhouse has churned out in industrial quantities (industrial means barely fifteen singles with a little over thirty tracks and then everyone goes home).
Just to say: the greatest single in punk history? "Blitzkrieg bop"? It comes very close. "God save the queen"? Let's not joke, come on. I'll suggest it to you: "Solitary confinement." Authors? This is tough, Weirdos. Recorded for...? Bravo, see, if you apply yourself, you know things. You learn quickly, little one.
And if it were only for the pairing "Solitary confinement / We got the neutron bomb". No, no way. For Dangerhouse, played the great Avengers, the unknown but extraordinary Bags, the equally unknown and extraordinary Rhino 39, pioneers of a hardcore punk at a blistering pace when hardcore didn't even exist, the Ramrods, for crying out loud, "ABCD / Let's get rid of New York," stuff that even if Pistols and Damned were still around, they wouldn't have managed to conceive songs like that. And then the Dils, debating class warfare, hatred for the rich, and for the inevitable Mr. Know-It-All that you happen to meet in life; and the Alley Cats, who lasted for almost nothing like almost everyone else, but they sounded just like X, and almost nearly they were worth X. And then there's X, of course, those who lasted and broke through and for Dangerhouse made the single "Adult books / We're desperate" and participated in the collection "Yes L.A." with an "Los Angeles" all nerves and power, decidedly rougher than the one on the eponymous debut LP, perhaps because Billy Zoom hadn't yet fallen in love with rockabilly. And on "Yes L.A." also featured "No god" by the Germs.
Oh yes, I almost forgot Howard Werth, nothing to do with punk, just excellent and exciting power pop, with distant reminiscences of the Modern Lovers: he was part of that band of crazies and rebels with a cause gathered by Randy Black, Garrett Pat, and Brown David, always in strict alphabetical order.
"Once upon a time ...": Dangerhouse's saga began like a fairy tale, but it turned out to be even more beautiful than a fairy tale because it actually happened.
So... recommendations for purchases: if you have the double vinyl, you're good as you are, considering you know 25 out of 34 total tracks; otherwise, buy the double CD "The complete singles collection," where there's everything, absolutely everything; or, if you have a bundle of money, throw yourself on the box set of 14 mini CDs, perfectly reproducing the original records. This stuff is for fetishists.
And if you ever have a child to introduce to the joys of punk, tell them this tale, making sure to omit the swear words scattered here and there; and have a bit of fondness for me if it's the first time you heard it here; then, before they fall asleep, give them a kiss and say, "This is a kiss from mom, dad and even Pinhead, who told me this tale such a long time ago".
Good night.
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