punk rock

Showing 5 posts tagged punk rock

Joey Erg playing bass for Night Birds on “Born to Die in Suburbia”

Not that Keller, Yannich, or Schroeck are particularly concerned with shedding their “Erg” titles, but the acclaim they’ve received since the dissolution of that band has elevated them all to points where they can succeed purely on their individual merits. Keller’s role in Night Birds over the past five years has been perhaps the greatest critical success of the three. Personally, I have seen nothing but the highest of praises for this band. The level of respect they earned almost immediately inside and outside of the East Coast punk scene is astounding (particularly because they fashion their sound as a such a “West Coast”-style). Both of their LPs have been lavished with praise from fans and critics alike, and their very existence has been saluted by cartoonist Mitch Clem:

Keller’s high-intensity scalar bass style (not exactly a departure from the way he played in the Ergs!) has been integral to the band’s development of a sound that hardly recalls his former band. As I’ve previously mentioned, Keller has been quoted as supportive of bands breaking up and enhancing the talent pool; it’s pretty gratifying to see somebody with so much influence practicing what they preach.

So not punk to begin a discussion of Black Flag by talking about Pavement. But: when “Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain” came out, I knew right away that it was a better album than “Slanted and Enchanted,” which preceded it. But, when The Pavement Conversations happens, I still hype “Slanted,” because it was the first one for me. It’s my favorite even though I know it’s not as good.

Black Flag is like that. A lot. They made so many mistakes and had so many personnel changes that cases can be made for or against pretty much any member of the band, or song, or record. And as much as punk is supposed to be an anathema to sentimentality, people’s choices are often based on where they were when they got in: which incarnation they saw first, which record a friend dubbed, stuff like that.

The most obvious point of debate –and the most obvious place to start – is with the band’s four singers. There are cases to be made for (and against) each: Keith Morris, singer #1, was (and is) snotty as hell, stretching syllables to their breaking point from “Nervous Breakdown” on.  If you’re nitpicking –and why not, right? – maybe Morris is a little too Rotten. (Yeah, but “Nervous Breakdown” was recorded in the 70’s, I know. And Keith’s been singing more or less since then, so there’s that, too. And he hasn’t lost an ounce of steam in Off!)

Ron Reyes –or, depending on when, where and how you started listening, Chavo Pederast – was more explosive than Keith was, and  was great both on and off the stage in ‘The Decline of Western Civilization.’ He’s charismatic and full of energy and generally awesome, though in his recorded output he hits bum notes in ways that don’t always work for me. (I know, I know, punk isn’t about virtuosity, blah blah blah.)

Henry Rollins is a lightning rod – depending on your take, he either ruined the band (an oft-repeated chestnut) or took him to where they are today (whatever that means). I never bought into the first argument, that he ruined the band – like Greg Ginn would let some new, admittedly green singer drive the metaphorical van. Nope. Henry improved tremendously over his five year tenure as the band’s playing evolved out of punk/hardcore and into something entirely its own. He shifted from a hoarse barker to a bona fide vocalist, though, like everyone else, there are some missteps along the way (the “it’s all in my mind” bit from “Black Coffee” comes to mind here. I’ll get back into this later on in the week).

And Dez!

Dez is my favorite.

Sure, part of it is completely sentimental: my first exposure to the band came through a mix tape a buddy from summer camp mailed me. “Okay, we’re rolling, you can play,” Spot (right?) says in his weird reedy voice, then there’s clanging piano for a little too long, until Ginn’s guitar finally kicks in. Dez is fucking ferocious as he belts out the first line (and, for that matter, the rest) of Jealous Again. There’s some restraint in his vocals that’s lacking in the official Ron Reyes 12” version. The Dez version appears, as does so much amazing stuff, on Everything Went Black, the comp Black Flag released while under injunction by MCA records . Dez delivers an under-the-breath, muttered quality that makes the song sound less performative and more convincing, as if it’s part of the natural give-and-take of an argument instead of a rant to an already-converted room full of angry dudes.

A common thread, when talking about the band, is to mention how much energy and work was put into it by the band members and the folks who worked with and for the SST record label. Dez exemplifies this: if you listen to his recorded output (except maybe ‘Jealous Again,’ anyway), he’s totally going for it. Not that the other guys in the band aren’t, mind you, but c’mon. Dez shouts himself hoarse! As a result, some of his stuff isn’t as dynamic as with the band’s other singers, but I think it sounds great.

Part of the allure of Dez, too, is that he knew his voice wouldn’t sustain itself, so he switched to guitar. His contributions there are part of what makes Damaged such a crucial record….and the lack thereof are what make My War such a tough one. I’ll talk about both tomorrow.

Black Flag post #1: intro

In 2006 Continuum Press accepted my pitch to write a book on the Minutemen’s “Double Nickels On the Dime” album. I was psyched, of course, but also a little scared: the pressure of doing justice to what was (and is) my favorite record hung over my head throughout the process – as did the pressure of succeeding. All my life I’d wanted to write books. Early stabs were abject failures. I worried I was in over my head.

From February to the book’s Halloween due date, I listened to the record over and over, asked questions, worried, revised, and worked harder than I ever had before, ultimately producing a book I remain very fond of which answered the questions I had about each of the record’s 40-plus songs.

The day after I submitted the manuscript, I got the Black Flag bars tattooed on my arm.

Since then, I’ve met dozens of people with the same logo inked on their skin. The logo – the band – means something different to everyone. Which is part of my ongoing love of and fascination with Black Flag: they’re the subject of debate, adoration, scorn, or ridicule, depending on who’s doing the talking.

It’s been almost thirty years, and the band’s legacy still remains the subject of scrutiny and discussion. Michael Azerrad’s chapter of Our Band Could Be Your Life provides an overview for newcomers, as does Steven Blush’s American Hardcore, with Steve Chick’s Spray Paint the Walls filling in gaps with its thorough view of the band’s career. Joe Carducci’s Enter Naomi discusses Black Flag and guitarist Greg Ginn’s SST Records, as well as an eyewitness account of the band’s inner working and peer group, through the lens (sorry) of photographer Naomi Petersen. James Parker’s Turned On provides candid commentary on Black Flag’s fourth and final singer Henry Rollins’ five-year tenure in the band. Lastly, David Markey’s documentary Realty 86’d, recently unleashed online, follows the band’s last lineup on their final tour.

With all that said, what I’m doing this week isn’t an attempt to be comprehensive or innovative. There’s so much to consider when weighing Black Flag’s career, recorded output, and legacy that certain points stick in my head. These are the points I’ll be talking about this week, accompanied by video. I’ll move in vaguely chronological order, with some discussion of the band’s first three singers, before focusing on their albums and some of the questions they raise later on in the week.

Thanks for reading!