American Hardcore: A Tribal History by Steven Blush
It was very hard to get started reading American Hardcore: A Tribal History without a series of expectations already built in. I had read so many reviews of the book and heard so much complaining from a number of people that it seemed like I would get nothing but disappointment out of my reading experience. But, I tried to keep an open mind. I really wanted to enjoy the book. I mean, it’s the first comprehensive look at early 80’s hardcore punk, and I was hoping to find at least a minimum of excitement within those pages.

Steven Blush starts the book with a series of claims that he never follows through on. Most notably, he claims - “American Hardcore ain’t no revisionist history based on what I personally think happened.” (pg. 10) In so many words, he also claims to be writing the book from an objective viewpoint- “I tried to purge myself of all the punditry, stereotyping, sloganeering, gut feelings, and knee jerk reactions developed over the years, and I’ve quit trying to defend my personal tastes.” (pgs. 9-10) But, in actuality, “American Hardcore” is nothing but a series of subjective observations delivered through a series of snippets taken from interviews of the people who lived it, Blush included.

To be fair, I wouldn’t expect anyone to write a book about something they lived and went through with an objective slant. For one, it’s completely impossible to separate your own experiences and ideas from the confines of the “real” truth. Those moments and memories are going to sink in somewhere and root themselves in your material consciously or subconsciously. Second, it makes absolutely no sense from a writer’s perspective to take yourself out of the picture. It would be far more interesting not only to write, but also for the readers, to put your own unique viewpoint into the material and present it with a personal touch. At times, Blush slips into this method, telling stories about life on the road with No Trend, as well as, his experiences booking shows. But, he does it to substantiate points he is trying to make about the atmosphere at the time, and it completely destroys the stance he took in his introduction, not to mention some of his credibility.

The other thing that made me lose faith in Blush’s research was the complete lack of credit to any of the sources he used to put the book together. There is no Works Cited page, no footnotes, nothing resembling a bibliography. In fact, Blush even states “… I’ve done extensive fact-checking wherever possible.” (pg. 10) Really? You sure didn’t provide any proof in your book. He also claims, in the first line of the book, that “I’m documenting the american hardcore punk music scene because it’s being forgotten.” (pg. 9) But, in essence, Blush isn’t doing anything to preserve the legacy of the scene he was involved in. Sure, he did some interviews. But, what about all that source material you used to help “research” the book? That isn’t important? It’s hard to believe that he didn’t take a look back at some of the fanzines released at the time to put things into a context. All those sources should have been included and given credit because they are the actual history, not a book compiled 20 years after the fact.

So, on to the content… “American Hardcore: A Tribal History” covers American hardcore punk music from 1981-1986. All the major players - Black Flag, Minor Threat, Dead Kennedys, etc - are covered, and Blush actually does a pretty good job of giving all the individual scenes a fair amount of coverage. The interview snips are all pretty short, and Blush breaks them all up with small amounts of commentary printed in bold type. As I read through the book, I started to notice that I was skipping over all of the bold type. Blush’s observations are, for the most part, unnecessary and irritating.

Like Henry Rollins’ Get in the Van: On the Road With Black Flag, the majority of “American Hardcore” focuses on the violent side of the scene. It’s interesting to a point to hear these people retell those stories with a bit of maturity behind them, but it’s so heavy handed that the average reader with no knowledge of the history would easily come to the conclusion that it was nothing but a bunch of kids causing trouble and beating the shit out of each other. Granted, that was probably a major factor at the time, but by ignoring the more positive aspects and accomplishments of that era, Blush has turned it into nothing more than the same biased focus that the major media portrayed it as at the time. Of course, there is a section of the book dealing with the mainstream media’s coverage of hardcore punk on television shows like CHIPs and Quincy, and while Blush is quick to bash that coverage as exploitative, he hasn’t done much to change that perspective.

I have a really hard time recommending this book to anyone merely because of the poor research and subjective viewpoints presented. But, at the same time, there is a lot of good, entertaining information in “American Hardcore”. Of course, it doesn’t come from Blush, but a lot of the interviews are really interesting. There are also a ton of great scans of flyers, record covers, and photos to make the book something interesting to flip through, as well as, a decent discography at the end of the book.

If you can read with a careful eye towards sorting out the bias, “American Hardcore” could be a good read for you.

Buy American Hardcore: A Tribal History here!

If you’ve ever been a reader of fanzines, then there’s no doubt that you’ve at least heard of the almighty Cometbus. For over 20 years, Aaron Elliot has been self-publishing this impressive fanzine full of journal entries, fiction and interesting historical sidenotes. His dedication to quality over quantity and to producing a completely consistent body of self-published work has made Cometbus legendary in underground circles. Despite Everything: A Cometbus Omnibus is an extensive collection of 20 years of Cometbus fanzine. Weighing in at 608 pages, you can be assured that all bases are covered, from his early “embarassing” issues up until the present. Even if you’re one of the rare few who owns every issue of Cometbus, this is an essential purchase with plenty of extra goodies thrown in for good measure.

In the computer age, the word “personal” has often carried negative connotations. With the glut of whining web-logs, self-obsessed personal webpages and reality TV, most people would be happy to live their life not touching or viewing a single thing that carries that tag. But, to describe Cometbus as anything but a personal journey of self-reflection, struggle and joy would be an injustice. The difference lies in Aaron’s approach to showing readers his world. Everything has a purpose and a place, and it’s obvious that with each issue he has gone above and beyond the realm of your average web-logger or personal zine creator to pick out what’s important and trim away the excess. Above all, Aaron is a story-teller, and a fabulous one at that.

If you’re already initiated, I won’t have to say much to convince you that this is the most entertaining and informative book you will buy this year. But for those who haven’t yet caught the Cometbus bug, let me give you a brief glimpse of what you’re in for- A walking tour of Berekely, CA complete with hand-drawn map, trips through Europe, everything you ever needed to know about Greyhound buses, comics, interviews with people that walk a road all their own, the adventure of getting to a punk rock show, hitchhiking, coffee, cereal, and on and on and on. Most importantly, it’s not the subject matter that will draw you into this collection, but the way everything is presented.

Every single page is reproduced exactly as it appeared in the original Cometbus fanzines. Aaron’s meticulous handwriting relays each section, scattered through a series of bold graphics, photographs and clippings. Last Gasp did a terrific job reproducing the pages of this book, and in a lot of cases, I think the pages actually look crisper than some of the originals. You’ll even find extra materials like pages of the zine during editing, fliers that Aaron has created with his signature Xerox art and even a small scrapbook section with additional photos and artwork. Top notch production on this one.

At $14.95, you’ll do a lot better to swipe up a copy of this book than paying upwards of $25 to buy earlier issues of Cometbus on eBay. This is the real deal- a testament to what can be done in a relatively short amount of time when someone actually applies the creative do-it-yourself ethics of punk to their own life. Despite Everything: A Cometbus Omnibus is not only the most entertaining book I’ve read this year, but it is also easily the most inspiring piece of work I’ve come across in ages.

Buy Despite Everything here!

“Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk” by Legs McNeil and Gillian Anderson

The argument has been going on since the first Clash album as to who “started” punk rock.

The between-the-lines argument is just as old: US versus UK. Depending on who you ask, the music we anarchists(TM) cherish was born to the tradition of urban bohemia of Manhattan’s Lower East Side or on the trash-laden streets of King’s Road in London.

The brief on the New York side of the debate is ably given forth in Leg’s McNeil’s collection of interviews Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk Between the firsthand accounts of the Velvets, MC5, and the Stooges, and the salvo-after-salvo by various Heartbreakers, Dead Boys, and other hangers-on at the British spikers as a bunch of callow copycats, the argument is almost effortlessly made that punk is an American child of American music. For those of you wondering, McNeil was one of the founders of Punk magazine; he hung out with the people whose words he’s using, and if he has a score to settle with the redcoats, you may at least be sure he’s got the evidence to do it.

History may well end up coming down on the American side through sheer weight of fact. Whatever music was or wasn’t getting played in London in 1975, in 1965 no place on earth had a band as subversive as Velvet Underground (okay, maybe the Mysterians, but no one on the British side ever mentions them). And while John Lydon can argue as reasonably as he wants that the Pistols were in existence well before the Ramones 1976 UK tour, there’s no way he can possibly deny the debt his band owes to the Stooges.

The roots of punk on both sides of the pond were spreading and forming underground in the States in the late sixties and early seventies, in reaction to the British Invasion and the harder-edged hippie sounds coming out of California. McNeil is careful to document these elements into a satisfying whole.

To wit: we start with a prologue in which Lou Reed, Nico, John Cale, and various members of Andy Warhol’s factory scene describe the rise and near-miss of the Velvets, who lost their novelty when the Doors stole a march on them. After a quick chapter of anecdotes that delightfully piss on the God Jim Morisson, we cutaway to Detroit, where the nitro that will fuel the movement was just then being distilled. We discover that the Motor City Five were five greasers who thought the hippies had a great idea, and that James “Iggy Pop” Osterberg was once a straight-laced kid in loafers with a passion for blues drumming. Like VU before them, the Five and the Stooges almost conquer the rock world but are simply too raw for the mainstream to handle. They’ve sown well, however, and when we return to New York in 1971 we run into Patti Smith and a handful of guys who come upon the clever gimmick of playing simple three-chord Fifties style rock while wearing lipstick and glitter, known as the New York Dolls. Hilarity ensues.

What’s great about “Please Kill Me” is the almost-offhand way McNeil uses his plethora of sources to remind us of old myths before using other sources to tear them down. For example, the title of the book comes from a legendary T-shirt worn by Richard Hell of Richard Hell and the Voidoids. Only it turns out Hell never wore the shirt, his erstwhile Television band-mate Richard Lloyd did. It’s also interesting to find out that the band who made the scene at CBGB’s wasn’t the Ramones but Television, who was there at least five months before and playing to decent crowds.

Another reason to pick the book up is its cast of characters. Alongside the band members, managers, and critics are a host of fans and other scene-makers. Thus, not only is the book able to simultaneously tell us about the music and musicians from both perspectives, but you generally get to feel like you know what the scene was about, who was actually in CBGB’s on a regular night, and what was going on there. And the stories are truly classic.

Where the book engages in overkill is where it starts whining. Blame is squarely laid at the Sex Pistol’s feet for the failure of punk to really get inside the record industry. They imploded on tour in America just as the movement was really gathering steam, goes the theory, so the record companies just walked away from everyone in a black leather jacket. There may be some truth to that theory, at least in terms of the larger, LA-based companies, but anyone who reads the book thoroughly might conclude that there was another, more sinister culprit behind the collapse of the NY punk scene.

Say it with me: HER. O. IN.

Iggy couldn’t get enough of it, neither could Dee Dee, Stiv, or Hell. Johnny Thunders was so stuck on it that he became the Keith Richards of the scene, undeniable talent and unescapable joke. It was their wives and it was their lives. The music couldn’t survive because the men behind it couldn’t not live what they were singing about. And decadence, though fun, does not sustain. Besides, what the fuck do you think made the Pistols split up in the first place? Their smack-head replacement bassist, maybe?

I could complain about the way the book ends in 1992, and the way the epilogue seems to lose track of certain characters (like Cheetah Chrome) but hey, you can’t have everything. The punk revival of the 90’s will get its own history written soon enough. “Please Kill Me” remains a definitive account for those of us who would occasionally like to read a musical history of punk that doesn’t fill our head with secondhand observational anal-ysis, that recognizes the obvious fact that any musical movement is a bunch of musicians pushing a sound and an image, for whatever that’s worth. It’s not the complete history by any means, but it’s got the folk tales, and those are always more interesting anyway.

Buy Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk (An Evergreen book) here!

I haven’t met too many people who are as ambivalent to Henry Rollins as I am. It seems like most people either relate to and understand the guy’s point of view or despise him as a hypocritical, macho thick neck. While I find most of his current musical output boring and his spoken word full of pompous, self absorbed rambling, “Get in the Van” is a perfect example of why I can’t write Henry Rollins off so easily.

Though he has been criticized by fellow Black Flagers over the years for over-exaggerating the negative aspects of their life on the road, I can’t help myself from relating to the sheer honesty of Rollins’ journal work. He called it like he saw it, and just because he has the tendency to fixate on the negative, chaotic portions of his stint as the vocalist for Black Flag, I don’t think you can dismiss his observations as fiction.

“Get in the Van” is one of the few documents of an era long since abandoned. It records the thoughts and experiences of an aggressive, intelligent, alienated man on various punk rock tours when the underground music community wasn’t nearly as strong and widespread as it is today. The network of support for independent bands was virtually nonexistent, and this book serves as an excellent reminder of the progress we’ve made in the years since.

One of the first things that strikes you while flipping through the book are all the amazing photographs that line the pages, many of which were snapped by the talented Glen E. Friedman. The visuals serves as a perfect compliment to the text. Some are goofing off snapshots- Henry hamming it up with Ian Mackaye or the rest of Black Flag. Others are stunning live shots or band portraits. There are also flyers from shows and various fanzine covers sprinkled throughout the book. The pictures are just part of the story.

“9.28.84 Wyoming- Pretty nice being back at the Rainbow. I wonder how it will go. I’m looking forward to playing. There is some tension in the ranks. No tension with me, I’m okay. It’s snowing here in Denver. I don’t like snow much. I always figure we’ll crash the truck or something. It sure was cold in the truck today. Being in the back is like being in a tomb or something. Lying prone, wrapped up and waiting for release.”

And so the book moves on through 250 pages. At times, Rollins’ observations are very basic- the weather, his health, his mindset. But, at others, he delves deeper, trying to figure out exactly what is motivating him, yet, in particular moments, he’s like a demon unleashed, spouting his anger and alienation out on to the page. His outward rage at society, at everything human, at the cops.

Covering roughly six years of his life on the road with Black Flag, “Get in the Van: On the Road With Black Flag” will remain as a testament to the hard work and dedication that launched punk and hardcore to new levels. There are moments in the book where you will sympathize with Henry Rollins and others where you will just downright loathe him. When it comes down to it, this book is just about a man- a man and his mission.

Buy Get in the Van: On the Road With Black Flag (2nd Edition) here!