Columns - "Friday Night at the Death Club" 03.20.00

This is only a test. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Fuck! BzzzzzZZZZzzzzzz! This isn't a test at all. Oh my goodness. Ladies and gentlemen, man your battle stations (or woman, if that's appropriate). It's a fucking punk rock war- and it's raging! The Battle of March begins, and it won't end until my baseball bat is bloody, my voice hoarse, and our flag is flying high in the swirling, spring air; the pole impaled up the ass of the modern culture. So crank your Latin Dogs' records, load up on drugs and booze, and don't forget to hide your identity. We're going to degenerate- some twisted shit is about to go down. Yes troops, when this battle is over, it's going to take years of flashbacks and Agent Orange psychosis to recover. Not pretty at all. You came in human, but you'll leave a broken machine- a degenerate, completely useless to society, as we know it. Luckily, that society will be burned to the ground, and I'm going to throw a party that will last forever. So fuck all this waiting around. I declare war. It's "Friday Night at the Death Club", and on the streets of the world.

Mission 1- Talking at you, about me.

I hate bad music. It makes me sick. But there's always been bad music throughout the history of rock, and throughout the history of popular music, in general. So I really don't have the energy to complain about how bad the state of music is these days. That's a given. I could talk for hours about my desire to see Carson Daily and his buddies from Blink 182 get busted in their 4 runners for Ruphinol on their way to Love Hewitt's house for a party, and then get ass raped and killed in prison. Seriously though, seriously- there's just not enough time for me to concern myself with all that stuff. It's the average music that REALLY pisses me off, and punk rock churns it out as well as, if not more ridiculously than any other "genre". Punk rock zines are filled monthly with reviews and interviews of utterly forgettable bands. They're constantly packed with forgettable labels putting out vinyl and digital garbage in bulk. These records and compact disks clog the underground market, and therefore most of the time, I can't even make heads or tails out of anything that's going on in the modern punk rock "scene". It's time for a serious house cleaning.

This ain't the first time this has happened. In the late 80's, early 90's, I was just a kid. My days were spent skateboarding and listening to punk rock. Being from the middle of nowhere in Ohio though, it didn't take long for me to buy up all of the decent punk tapes available at the retail stores in the local mall. Remember, this was during the Dark Age of hardcore dominance, and I felt the same way about hardcore then, as I do now- it really sucks. Now I'm not talking Posh Boy type stuff- I'm talking about NYHC and the like. If alienating myself from the already alienated was what it took to avoid listening to the Cro-Mags, and then it was a pittance to pay. In the mid 90's it really picked up though, and this time period is greatly responsible for the state of affairs going on now. At the time, I got heavily involved in the scene. The music was fun again, but it was about alot more than that to me. My Dad "rocked out" in the 60's and 70's. All the braindead Metallica fans that I went to high school with were fun to smoke pot with, but they were monkeys. The new scene that I was involved in, the new band that I was in and the label that I started, new friends and old friends, and a total commitment to creating something fun, intelligent, artistic, and completely deviant to do on Friday nights was way more important than posing, rocking, or any of that shit. Rock and Roll is one of the most, if not the most important parts of my life. Oh well, I refuse to take part in "boring". Fuck Rock and Roll! I go to shows for lots of reasons, but "getting rocked" is never one of them. If it happens, that's fine, but I'm a bit quicker than that. Giving the "horned hands" at a show is not wild, nor is the middle finger. 3 man circle pits aren't cool. Heavy metal is not cool. Creating intelligent, tough, raw punk rock that ruins everyone’s' time, and expresses the emotions, energy, and aggression of kids who have something to offer and say that might not get expressed, but still get drunk and don't preach at you, or assume that you are actually longing to be part of a ridiculous cliche? That's fucking cool! But I forgot, according to you people, "rocking out", or discussing statistics during shows of the United States' poor policies in Vietnam, and being a walking cliche IS cool. Sorry.

Mission 2- Seize media, destroy media, rebuild media (formerly titled: When turning it off just isn't fucking enough (Formerly titled before that: Just 'cause Henry Rollins says that it's OK now doesn't mean that he's not a big jerk-off)).

Arrrgh! Stop fooling yourselves! The corporate media giants (i.e. television, radio, magazines, and increasingly astonishing is the corporate push into on-line affairs), no matter how loud the public out-cry, will never bow down, and play fair. They will never get into bed with anything interesting, wild, or with something to say. Their sponsors don't like the even mildly offensive (especially if it's not pre-packaged M. Manson formula shock), therefore the media doesn't like it either. These people don't care what you have to say, nor do they care about what you want to see, hear, or read. These people care about making cash money. Even during this explosion of hip-hop music, most intelligent rappers have been phased out in favor of those with little or nothing to say. If you talk about dead, "famous" friends, automobiles (Go on, say name brands), and girls with big asses, you're welcome. If not, go back to the ghetto, or college, or wherever you came from. Do you hear anyone bringing it like Public Enemy, anymore? They even faded Ice-T and Cube (Not counting Cube's comeback, new jack video for Next Friday- that's allowed; Puffy said so). In a community like punk rock that depends so heavily on media to share ideas and information, a competent latticework is the most necessary element in assuring your right to killer bands. If you stand up, look all these zombies in the face, and tell these people to go fuck themselves, you deserve to be entertained. It's only proper. These are the politics of rock and roll. You're not alone, and you're not unarmed.

Mission 3- Rock 'n' Roll Weapons.

I believe in the right to post pictures of your dick on the Internet. Saying the words "fuck" and "nuts" in front of children is a right that we take for granted. I think full frontal nudity and penetration shots on television would be fine. When "Monicagate" was in full swing, I think it would've been helpful to see Connie Chung and Ted Koppel re-enact those "scandalous" events on the news. Then, the people could take a look, and decide if they felt it was alright for the prez to do stuff like that with his wiener, and more importantly, did that sort of activity really impair his ability to govern? From what I understand about cock sucking, he could still talk on the phone. It's not like he has to go fight wars himself or anything. Monica could have very easily taken dictation. How do these people know that work wasn't getting done? It could've been highly productive- seriously. I guess my point is with computers and stuff becoming easier to use, use 'em. Start a web zine or radio station, or just put up mp3's of local bands. Don't forget about things like pirate and college radio, though. The government has done such an effective job at completely killing radio. When I used to go to Kent State, I referred to the radio station as the "complicated boombox". I lived across the street from the broadcast tower; a big fucking thing, but the FCC would only allot something to the tune of 1 watt of power to the station. Therefore, the people I lived with couldn't even get the show I helped do. I quit. If I want to listen to my records alone, I'll do just that. I hear that the station is now fed into the dorms and shit through cable lines. So now the students don't complain as much, and the government has effectively silenced another voice. The station has no function in the community, or with any student that doesn't live in a dormitory. What a shame. Well, back to the streets then. This is why it's necessary to keep the underground zine alive. But most importantly, hot punk rock bands need cool places to play. If your town doesn't have a place (bar, hall, house, art gallery) in which bands, and more importantly, you can go to and book shows for bands without a fucking giant, ass kissing, hassle/ headache- fest, get busy! Most touring bands will tell you that it wasn't the big club show with A.F.I. on their tour that made it worth it, but the night they played in some kid's garage to 50 drunk crazies, then someone fell off the roof, a cat got run over, and the cops tear-gassed the place- that's what you remember, and if it's, "remember the night in Buffalo when we made $300 and sold 22 t- shirts; we gotta' hit that place again", leave me the fuck alone. Don't count on Maximum to keep these lists going- jump in and lend a hand. Contact me, and my band will be happy to come and destroy your new show space for very little compensation.

Mission 4- Those fuckers have to pay (formerly titled: I'll put your head in a milk bottle).

I have a bad 'tude, and do not tolerate fence sitters, and people that only hang around to "make the scene". Figure out another way to get girls and friends. When I was a kid, I made a conscious choice to not associate with assholes. To this day, I can beat the ass of most anyone on any basketball court around. They did not reject me. I rejected them. Now they want back in, and I only have this to say- take your tattoos, piercings, mall punk, new haircuts, "new" attitude, the fact that you now "get it", lame hardcore, stupid "rock and roll, dude" slogans, beanies, snowboards, X- Games, and shove them up your fucking asses. The day when I accept what I once rejected, and have paid serious consequences for doing so ever since, will never, ever come. The pleasure and fulfillment that I have found so greatly outweighs the beatings and pain I have endured. Maybe you understand. If you do, then you're spared. Don't pretend though. I can smell a liar- I can smell a poser, and "I'll put your head in a milk bottle".

Mission 5- The final countdown.

Still though, we march on. It's hard to say where it's going to go from here. There're are still alot of great bands out there, and alot of great people to meet. Before I die, I'd love to see the stale, money driven, culturally devoid music business get the biggest kick in the nuts ever, and I think it will. When that happens, I will be there, drunk, listening to the Pagans' "Boy Can I Dance Good", and laughing my little fucking head off. Thanks to Blank Generation and Joe for the space. Maybe I can do it again sometime. Until then I can be reached at:

Kenny c/o Rock Action Records
10825 Springfield Rd.
Poland, Ohio 44514 U.S.A.

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