I met my ex-wife at Batteries Not Included. She was much too young to be in the place, but there she was. We had a Quaalude romance. It was a real modern affair. Fucking for hours to Raw Power. A whole lifetime we shared. She was my teenage dream, but I was twenty-four. I found out she hung out at the Hippie House. Hippie House was on Fullerton a few doors west of Lincoln Avenue. A short walk from Aetna Park.

Speaking of Aetna Park, that was where all the skinheads would gather starting around 3:00 p.m. on Friday afternoon. By about six o’clock there was an army of guys wearing boots, braces, and bombers out there. Dwayne and Sonny were prominent black skinheads who were on the scene at the time. I was pretty good friends with Dwayne. Sonny was a fucking lunatic. He had “U.S. SKINS” tattooed across his forehead. Hazardous Youth used to play a heavy metal version of the theme from Sesame Street. I don’t remember all the lyrics but it started like this:

Sonny and Dwayne
Drinkin’ the night away
On the corner where the skinheads meet
Can ya tell me how to get
How to get to Halsted Street

Hippie House got its name because of the crunchy kids that lived there. Most of them were girls who wore patchouli and listened to the Dead, but there were a couple guys who lived there too. One of them was a black guitar player I was friends with named Charlie who had a band called the Modern Frogs. Another was Stu Zechman, the guy who wrote the main guitar part for “Ungod” when he was in Stabbing Westward. It’s the same lick Filter used in “Hey Man, Nice Shot”. My friend Casey who would later play with me in Hazardous Youth used to hang out there too. Mainly to smoke free weed and bang white chicks.

Stu had a nice old dog named Birdie. One day a large sheet of plate glass that was on the porch at Hippie House fell on top of Birdie and fucked her up pretty bad. Stu didn’t have enough money for a vet, so they held a benefit for Birdie at Hippie House. I was playing in the Maggots at the time and we were invited to play the “Save Birdie” party.

A bunch of bands played that night. I know it was us, the Modern Frogs, Wait For Light, and I’m pretty sure there were some others too. This was a big party. There had to be a couple hundred people in this big ass house at any given time, with different people coming and going. A lot of goofy shit was happening. For example, an idiot skinhead named Jake had emptied the kitchen cabinets of the Hippies’ food and poured it all into a huge pot of water that he got boiling on the stove. Stu asked him what the fuck he was doing and he said he was making burgoo. Needless to say Stu and the Hippies were pissed.

It was pretty late by the time we were ready to play. I’m sure we were all hammered. I dumped an eightball on the floor tom and cut out fives big rails, one for each guy in the band and another one for Chris Splatter who was hanging out with us. After that, I was ready to go. We played a great fucking show. I felt bad that Wait For Light had to follow us. They could play way better than we could, but they couldn’t put on a better show. I used to have a cassette of the entire thing but it’s been lost a long time. I know we played a version of “Whole Lotta Love” that sounded a lot like this one:

https://soundcloud.com/joe-orr-road-rod ... lotta-love

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

If ever a song deserved to receive an E- in the Village Voice, this is it. Per Robert Christgau, “An E- record is an organically conceived masterpiece that repays repeated listening with a sense of horror in the face of the void.”

For reasons I don’t remember, two sets of lyrics were developed for the song simultaneously. Rather than choosing one, the band decided to use them both. That resulted in what we call “DuoSound”. “For best results listen with a bucket over your head.”

The song is called “Orange Jubilee/Dance of the Boxheads” or just “Boxhead Jubilee”.

Right channel lyrics (“Orange Jubilee”):

Ooo-eee-ooo, Orange Jubilee
Ooo-eee-ooo, Got a hold on me
Ooo-eee-ooo, Orange Jubilee

The purple stuff is dangerous
Turned my spleen into dust
Now it follows real fine
Wonderful, like liquid sunshine
Jubilee!

The sun comes up, the sun goes down
When the sun is up my sun is down
When I wake up I don’t know
Where my sunshine’s gonna go

Left channel lyrics (“Dance of the Boxheads”):

Ooo-eee-ooo, oh, oh oh, eee, ah
Get together at the end of the week
Fragilee is the language they speak
They get together and act like Smeds
Don’t you know it’s the Dance of the Boxheads
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Boxheads that we know!

While the rest of the band was in the control room mixing this shit down with Genral Patton, Bill was out in the parking lot with his buddy Bob puking his guts out from drinking so much Orange Jubilee. A case of life imitating art. Or perhaps vice versa. You’re not hardcore unless you live hardcore!

The best part is the rave-up at the end. It sounds like it could be the younger brothers of The Stooges trying to copy Funhouse and failing in a blaze of glory.

https://soundcloud.com/joe-orr-road-rod ... ad-jubilee

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

Bill went to Willowbrook High School and one of his friends was this chick who really hated her dad. She would complain that all the old man ever did was come home from work, sit in a fucking chair, and watch his giant television. Her father met an early demise, but she wasn’t too upset about that fact. What did upset her, however, was that he left the huge TV behind and it made it very difficult for her and her friends to dance in the rec room since it took up so much space.

He used to work everyday…
He used to work everyday for a couple bucks and a gold watch someday
Home to an empty house and a can of Spam
Eaten on a paper plate while his TV set ran
Now he’s gone and long forgotten
But his TV lives on, it’s willed to his begotten
The funny thing is and the sad thing is and the funny thing is and the sad thing is
She don’t like it too much anyway
Because the dead man’s TV just gets in the way
She don’t like it, she don’t like it
It’s always in the way
Dead Man’s TV

https://soundcloud.com/joe-orr-road-rod ... ad-mans-tv

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

Club Dreamerz was on Milwaukee Avenue where Nick’s is today. It was owned by a guy named Dan who once was stabbed at the bar and on another occasion got shot by a cop for some reason or no reason at all. Rumor has it he took the settlement money he got from the City and opened a Dreamerz in Moscow.



Anyway, in the late 80s/early 90s Dreamerz was THE punk rock bar in Chicago. I was in there almost every night for awhile. In the summer you could sit out on the patio in back that was under the El tracks. Dan had cut a deal to buy gravestones that had misspellings or mistakes on them and they were set up back there. The bands used to play upstairs. Here is a picture of an early Fugazi show. You can see the Hazardous Youth graffiti on the wall above drummer Brendan Canty:



Dreamerz was a pretty decadent place and a lot of crazy shit happened there. Underage kids were in there all the time. It was also the only place I ever regularly associated with junkies. I can remember getting a blowjob under a table from a chick I barely knew. At least I hope it was a chick.

My ex-wife liked to go in there to dance. She liked to say, “Let’s go disco.” One night we were in there and she was dancing around like the Deadhead she really is deep down, flailing her arms about and spinning hopelessly. She had a cigarette in one hand and was kind of waving it as she danced. I guess she got it close to some goof because suddenly this guy grabbed her by the arm. I didn’t even think before taking two steps toward him and punching him square in the jaw. I had never hit anyone like that before and I haven’t since. It was almost like when a guy gets hit in a movie. He flew backward and landed on his ass. I remember thinking, “Uh oh, I’m gonna get thrown out of here.” The bouncer was a guy named Hank. Hank came running toward us yelling “I saw the whole thing!” He apologized to my ex-wife and picked the guy up off the floor and dragged him out. But thinking back, it was totally the broad’s fault. She shouldn’t have been out there sticking her damn Camel Filter in peoples’ faces. Hank is on the left in this photo:



Another time Bill and I went in there on a night when Eleventh Dream Day was playing. This was during the time of the Sonars, so we were drunk as usual. We had this guy named Christopher Bell with us. (Just like the guy from Big Star!) He was a guy Bill knew from working some job or something. He was a complete fucking moron.

Bill and I hated Eleventh Dream Day. I don’t really remember why. Oh, it just came to me! Because they suck. I suppose if I had to describe them I would choose the word “precious” or perhaps just “Neil Young tribute band”. So we went to the edge of the “stage” which wasn’t really very high and the three of us stood there flipping the bird with both hands. I could see Rick Rizzo had a nervous look on his face. He knew Bill was an unpredictable sonuvabitch. There were two cinder blocks on the ground in front of the stage. Christopher picked one up and began slamming it against the ground. Bill grabbed the other one and followed suit. As Bill was drawing his back, he hit himself in the face, breaking his nose. Fucking ridiculous. He was bleeding all over. Christopher walked over to the railing going upstairs and began kicking the slats out. The owner, Dan saw him and told him to get the fuck out. As we were leaving, Steve Albini was walking in. Bill was still carrying a plastic cup with the remnants of his drink and some ice in it. And of course, there was blood running down his face. Steve said, “Hey Bill! What happened?” Bill snarled, “Fuck you, Steve Albini!” and threw the drink at him. I drove Bill to Grant Hospital. When the admitting nurse was filling out the paperwork she asked Bill how it happened. He snapped at her, “A human fist!” Good times.

I only played there a few times. Maybe once with the Maggots and a couple times with Hazardous Youth. I’m pretty sure we played a show there with a girl band called Bhang Revival, because I think Gus got in a beef with Lori the guitar player over some stupid shit he said. Anyway, I believe this is from a soundcheck for a Dreamerz show. It’s a cover of “Born To Skank”:

https://soundcloud.com/joe-orr-road-rod ... n-to-skank

Here’s the original Sponge version:

https://soundcloud.com/joe-orr-road-rod ... skank-born

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

These are great recollections, songs and pictures, JORR. I was still underage during the Hazardous Youth era, but my high school friends and I used to drink at a bunch of bars in the area. One of my buddies from the wrestling team, Darrick, was simultaneously into new wave music and punk, and practically lived at Vintage Vinyl in Evanston, Rolling Stone Records at Harlem/Irving, and some of the old record stores on Clark Street. He was always uncovering new stuff, and I'm pretty sure he saw Hazardous Youth play at least one show. He was a very good artist, and I could swear I remember him doing a Hazardous Youth illustration on the cover of one of his textbooks. He definitely made it to Dreamerz and some other punk clubs pretty frequently. I didn't get to go out as much as he did because I had to work--usually unloading produce and stocking shelves at a neighborhood fruit store. Although I never attended a Hazardous Youth gig, I was somewhat of a regular at Lucky Number/Club 950 because they were known to serve anybody. We would also check out the shows at Lower Links on Newport, which booked punk acts a few times a month, and were fascinated by Medusa's.

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Thanks, Midget. Those were the days. I think I'd sooner commit murder these days than let an underage kid in a bar if I was working the door. It almost seems like we're heading toward a modern version of Prohibition. It's like "copping" a sixer for a couple 17 year olds has become a capital crime.

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

yeah, for me of the younger-than-you-lot-variety, rough punker equivalent of that was the ever-fluctuating alcohol policy @ the fireside bowl where one night the bands themselves would be carded/given-a-hard-time and the next night 13 year olds were buying beers that they would later puke up all over the lanes.

when i worked as the computer guy @ the library from 98-04, there was one stereotypical nerdy kid who was a way-too-regular who eventually boasted to me that he was one of those kids who the police would coach up to go into gas stations / liquor stores and try to buy cigarettes/beer (if not solicit people outside, tho the main focus was on the stores themselves) and once he told me that.... suffice to say i ran a tight network that was backorificed to hell and back and i made sure that whatever the hell he wanted to do on the internet would fail. be it killing the browser process, random dialog boxes, or outright reboots.

seriously, how the fuck do you come up to *me* in a KMFDM money shirt and brag about that? after i read the bastard operator from hell? c'est la vie



when i get around to the time traveling portion of my life, i'll have to check this place out. thanks for the heads up.

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Hey JORR,

Were there any significant punk clubs in Rogers Park during the 80s? I know the original incarnation of Oz was on Greenleaf, but was there anything else?

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Dude was awesome in Full Metal Jacket.

I wouldn't really call it a regular venue, but some guy ran a bunch of shows out of the Stars Inn on Clark right off of Greenleaf. I thought it was funny because the only time I had ever been in the place previously was with some Mexican guys that I worked with in a restaurant when I was way underage. They always called it "Las Estrellas". The same guys took me out drinking to a bar on Morse they called "El Gorro". I laughed when we pulled up in front of the Top Hat.

Anyway, we played one pretty big show at the Stars. Some friends of mine had a band called S.F.I. (Stupid Fuckin' Idiots) and they opened the show. There was a big crowd. The next week the Accused from Seattle played there. We were supposed to play on that bill too, but for some reason we didn't end up doing it. I had a good conversation with the lead singer, Blaine. He was telling me about his roommate, Andrew Wood, who was in Mother Love Bone. Blaine was concerned about the amount of drugs Andrew was doing.

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

Mother Love Bone was pretty good.

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Flew too close to the sun on wings of pastrami

Cool. It's weird to think of you playing across the street from the old Affy Tapple factory and store. I think the Stars Inn books exclusively Mexican music acts now.

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My friend Tom Billings’ dad was one of the guys who invented the Marlboro Man when he worked at Leo Burnett. The Marlboro Man became an American icon: the rugged individual, cocksure, self-sufficient. Just like America herself. Those were different times. In the early 80s the "Marlboro Man" I encountered was more likely to be holding a cardboard sign that said “Will Work For Food.”

Well, he believed all the billboards for the Fourth of July
He’ll smoke those non-filters ‘til the days he dies
His hands are all dirty from the Days of Rage
The lines on his face are really showin’ his age

I ain’t the Marlboro Man
I ain’t your Marlboro Man

He sleeps in the laundromat, pretends to read the magazines
With a pint of Bourbon he can almost forget all his dreams
He’s everybody’s uncle and he’s nobody’s dope
With a fiver at the racetrack buys another day of hope

He says I ain’t the Marlboro Man
He says I ain’t your Marlboro Man

He walks in borrowed shoes from 1943
They never really figured out just who he’s supposed to be
He walks the night streets lookin’ for a fix
He gets jumped by some kids lookin’ for some kicks

And he says I ain’t the Marlboro Man
I ain’t your Marlboro Man

Cause I don’t wanna love no more
Cause I don’t wanna cry no more
Cause I don’t wanna die no more
Cause I don’t wanna feel no more
Cause I don’t wanna lie and I don’t wanna steal
And I don’t wanna fight and I don’t wanna feel
Baby, I ain’t the Marlboro Man
He says I ain’t the Marlboro Man

https://soundcloud.com/joe-orr-road-rod ... rlboro-man

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

This is the first track on the second side of Born Under a Bad Sponge. I’m not sure anyone agrees with me, but I’ve always considered this song to be the centerpiece of that record. In fact, it isn’t just a song, it’s a fucking manifesto. A goddamned mission statement. It represents a complete and utter rejection of the ideals of our parents and every dream they had for us. And it came right at the time when we were supposed to begin making good on all the promise we had shown as boys.

But we didn’t want to be ordinary. One way or another, we were gonna make a big, big noise. I maintain that sensibility to this day. Said philosophy has caused my fortunes to swing wildly, but I’ve always enjoyed the ride. My wife enjoys pointing out how lucky I am to have a life partner who is content with just making a little noise and a consistently good salary. I really don’t care about her money, I’m just glad she understands my inability to answer to The Man. The split level duplex world is not for me.

I argued with Bill that it’s an elevator that rings and dings rather than an escalator, but I guess he liked the imagery of moving stairs. I don’t remember who played that nifty solo on the Casio near the end. It may have been Bill or Mark or perhaps Genral Patton. I always loved the lyric in “A Horse With No Name” that goes “There were plants and birds and rocks and things”. "Planes and things" is even better!

Groovin’!

Oh baby, it’s a big, big world
So ya gotta make a big, big noise
Well, it’s a big, big world now, honey
So ya gotta make a big, big noise
It’s a world filled with planes and things
And the escalator givin’ off that old ring ding
There are plenty of arms and legs to swing
In this big, big world

Come on, baby, ya know you got me very excited
Well, it’s a world filled with credit card locks and keys
Without a résumé, baby, you ain’t gonna get hired
The split duplex world is not for me, me, me
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I said a yeah, yeah, yeah

So ya gotta make a big, big noise
It’s a world filled with planes and things
And the escalator givin’ off that old ring ding
There are plenty of arms and legs to swing
In a big, big world

Come on, baby, ya know you got me very excited
Well, it’s a world filled with credit card locks and keys (locked doors)
Without a résumé, baby, you ain’t gonna get hired (let’s get higher)
The split duplex world is not for me, me, me
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I said a yeah, yeah, yeah
Come on, honey now

https://soundcloud.com/joe-orr-road-rod ... -big-world

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

I think there are at least a couple Califone fans here. I don’t remember the first time I ever saw Tim Rutili, but I do remember thinking he looked more like the Director of Library Science at an Ivy League school rather than a rocker. But any doubts I may have had about him being able to rock were erased when he hit that first chord. He had a beat-up acoustic guitar that looked sort of like that thing Willie Nelson plays, but he had modified it with a pick-up. It had a very distinctive sound.

The name of his band was Friends of Betty. I think the story was that when those guys would try to crash a party and someone would try to stop them by asking who the fuck they were, they would say they were “friends of Betty”, and sometimes it actually worked. The drummer was a South side guy named Johnny Rowan, long before he reinvented himself and became Blackie Onassis in Urge Overkill.

One night Johnny and I were hanging out at a party on Erie and Wood. This band called the Watchmen lived there. I wasn’t the biggest fan, but they did have the best girl drummer I have ever seen. She was a serious dyke and she played like fucking Jimmy Chamberlain. I’m not usually an advocate of female drummers. You should have a set of balls swinging between your legs if you’re going to power a rock band. But I’d make an exception for this chick. Anyway, we got pretty fucked up and I stole a bunch of cassettes. I still have a promotional copy of Hüsker Dü’s Warehouse: Songs and Stories that I took that night. Johnny or one of the other guys that was with us took a whole stereo and put it in the trunk of my car. We were real jerk-offs.

Somehow we met up with this chick we knew from Memphis named Kristi Whitfield. She sang in a band called Pump Action Retards. The scene in Memphis was relatively small, so if you went down there to play the Antenna Club, you got to know a bunch of people pretty quickly. I think I’ve mentioned Angerhead and his band MetroWaste and their fascination with Gacy. I’m not sure why Kristi was in Chicago, but I was the only guy in the car who wasn’t too interested in nailing her. When we had played in Memphis I tried to no avail to work her friend Susan Authement, who was a truly fabulous blonde. I stalked Susan on Facebook recently and she’s down in Destin, Florida looking better than any broad in her late forties has a right to. So, Kristi had us chasing around, probably trying to find the dude she actually wanted to nail. That was when Johnny coined a phrase that my friend Tom and I still use to this day. He called her “The Queen of Bogosity”. Eventually I dropped her off somewhere and the rest of us went to get hot dogs at Duk’s on Ashland.

The bass player in Friends of Betty was Glynis Johnson, Rutili’s sometime girlfriend. They lived in a coach house near Fullerton and Clybourn. I went to a couple good parties there. I can remember how I felt when I read that she died. http://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/pe ... oid=880461
It’s not like we were best friends, but she was someone I knew, around my own age. It caused me to reflect on my own mortality. I don’t think Corgan knew her nearly as well as I did, but he wrote that beautiful song about her. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ic07ejc5DPE

Friends of Betty at their peak were really something to see. You had Rutili flailing away on that shitty electrified acoustic, Johnny doing his best Keith Moon impersonation, and laid back tomboy Glynis calmly holding it all together. They made one record called Blind Faith II. I’m not sure how many copies they pressed, but each one had a different hand-painted cover. Mine has a version of the Stones' lips logo. I’m guessing Glynis painted that one.

This song is about all the accidents on Interstate 94 involving kids driving back from Wisconsin when the drinking age was only 18 up there. I’m sure some of you guys around my age can appreciate that.

Across the border
I’m comin’ home
4 a.m.
I got an hour to go
Drivin’, drivin’
Bloody 94

https://soundcloud.com/pat-daly-1/empir ... iends-of-1

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

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favrefan said:"Chris Coghlan isn't gonna pay your rent, Jimmy."

Interesting...never knew that Glynis was about her, or that Friends of Betty became Red Red Meat.

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@audioidkid

The strangest band I ever played in was the Devil Bell Hippies. It wasn’t really a band, per se, but rather just a vehicle for the mad genius of Martin Billheimer. Martin is one of the smartest motherfuckers I’ve ever met. And delightfully odd to boot.

The Hippies started out as a goof when somehow Martin was able to reserve a block of time on a local public access cable station. I think he pitched it as a show featuring his band. I’m sure the powers that be just thought these were a group of nice young lads from Lincoln Park High. To see Martin you would never guess just how bizarre he really is.

In any case, the tape they submitted featured a mini-“concert” with the Hippies spitting out all manner of dissonance while Martin attempted to conjure up the devil and mumbled some shit about the Necronomicon. It ended with a full on black mass which included the recitation of The Infernal Names. The band members were all wearing black hoods. One of the guys had on a fabulous pair of brown corduroy bell bottoms and he made sure to point them out for the camera.

I played guitar for them a couple of times during live sets. There wasn’t much song structure. I simply tried to coax as many weird sounds as I could from the amplifier. I remember that during one of the shows Martin pulled a set list from the pocket of his jacket. It appeared to be a 3” x 5” card at first but when it unfolded onto the stage it was about twenty feet long. Red Stripe beer and Balaam. Fuckin’ punk rock, man! Delamer Duverus swallowed the soul of Edward Aloysius Roberts.

Anyway, these go out to everybody who loves Satan and flared pants as much as Mr. Billheimer and I do.

https://soundcloud.com/chipchilupa/disco-satan

https://soundcloud.com/thedelrios/weari ... es-for-the

https://soundcloud.com/thedelrios/delam ... dean-titan

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

that was...interesting

first one reminded me of Devo

It wasn't long after Bob Stinson got kicked out of the Replacements. He was playing in a band called Model Prisoner and they booked a show at Batteries Not Included which was one of my main hangouts at the time and a place where we played often.

Some friends of mine had a band called Teens in Heat and they ended up grabbing the opening slot on the bill. Their front man was Chris Splatter who would later play bass in Hazardous Youth. The other two guys were drummer Kelly Saiger and bassist Art "The Bass Owner" Harrison. The Didjits were also on the bill and they really stole the show that night. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dLAVIwkXVUE

Man, I was disappointed when I saw the guys Bob was playing with in Model Prisoner. They were wearing makeup and looked like some kind of generic glam band. When they started playing, they were obviously going to be just completely forgettable. Bob ripped off a few good solos, but he looked like shit and he was fucked up when they walked in. At the 9:21 mark on this tape, you can hear him desperately begging for beer. It was really kind of pitiful. I went to the bar and brought him a pitcher.

In the meantime, the guys I was with and I were getting drunk and high and we kept yelling shit at the band, particularly at Bob. After they were done, Bob was getting up on one of the least attractive chicks in the bar. I saw a guy point him out to his girlfriend and say, "See that guy? He was on Saturday Night Live." I felt even worse than I already did. By this time we were completely shitfaced and one of us pointed at Stinson and said, "That's him!" And another guy said, "He's there!" and then a third yelled, "There he is!" Finally Bob, slurred, "Yeah, and I'm gonna fuck her", like he was really proud of nailing some washed out thirty-five year old broad.

Things were getting real depressing. Then some asshole flicked the brim of my friend Eric Reidelberger's hat and a huge melee broke out. Good times.

I tried to listen to this but it's pretty awful. If you can manage to get through it, I have no doubt you will hear me acting a fool in the background.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fi5pPxHIqCo

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

I expect this from dolphin but not you. Your words have cut me like a knife this morning.

Don't worry, Spaulding. I wouldn't describe you as "washed out".

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

Here’s a cautionary tale for all of you guys who love psychedelic drugs. Yeah, that means you, Scorehead. And Ike South. It was written by Ron Richter. Ron is a fascinating guy, a songwriter, author, poet, artist, and “singer”. I believe he currently lives in Brooklyn where he performs as Capt’n Ronzo and the Pirates. Ron has had many identities over the years. After Sponge broke up he joined Russ Forster of Fudgetunnel to form a new band with the idiotic name Spongetunnel. They recorded at least one album and toured the U.S. and Europe. Their best song was probably “Your Mom Is Totally Hot”. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2IxaA_yakw
After that Ron grew a crazy beard and began performing as something called Beardicus Enormous.

Anyway, this one is called “Wallmelters”. Do not take the brown acid. The brown acid is bad.

https://soundcloud.com/joe-orr-road-rod ... allmelters

When the walls start meltin’ in front of your eyes
And you start wonderin’ if you’re gonna die
I know some guys that can tell you why
Their minds look like comets just a-sizzlin’ by

Cause I don’t need the colors of a psychedelic lover just to clue me in I got a brain
And I don’t wanna end up just another wallmelter, just a-drippin’ down a windowpane

They don’t plan on spending much of the time
Cause they’re too busy expanding their minds
With minds the size of parking lots they’re feeling fine
But they leave lots of empty spaces behind

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His mind is not for rent to any God or government.

The last time I took Window Pane was in the late 1970's before a Led Zeppelin concert on the Physical Graffiti tour.

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CSFMB 2014 Nascar Pick 'em Champion

We don’t have a trillion-dollar debt because we haven’t taxed enough; we have a trillion-dollar debt because we spend too much. — Ronald Reagan

This fucking thread is awesome...

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"I'm not smiling because I thought what you said was humorous. I'm smiling because one day I know you'll be dead..."

Which one is JORR?
Balck dude, or Misfits shirt guy?

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Just chillin' like Garret Quillin.

Gotta have a balck dude for street cred,just like a Miley Cyrus video.

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favrefan said:"Chris Coghlan isn't gonna pay your rent, Jimmy."

You knew Patrick Swayze when he was in the outsiders? Holy shit!



Fuck great thread loved reading it. I might hVe to talk to you about a project

Ok, following into this from the other threads. I know it was the 'cool' thing to do to hate Joe Kelly. I know they got a lot of great gigs because Joe was Joe Shannahan's boy. Frankly, I thought Lost Cause was one of the best hardcore bands ever to emerge. It sucks that the record had such shitty recording quality (even by hardcore standards). I recall an AWESOME show at Metro - Lost Cause/Out of Order/Cro-Mags/GBH. It was when Cro Mags emerged on the scene and they were just fucking COOL! As much as we liked the happy singalong chorus stuff of bands like 7 Seconds, Minor Threat and Uniform Choice, CroMags came out and you were like 'whoa, these are some mean mother fuckers' and I loved that!

Back to Lost Cause - What punk rock kid in the city didn't love hooking up with chicks that came to Medusa's from, like you said, New Trier or McCauley or Stevenson? We of course, would have to play 'whoooooaaaa, my suburban girllll'. Every song on that record is awesome - yes, of course 'Where's Babylon', but 'Crazy' was great melodic 'core and songs like Bam and I Desire are killer aggressive shit. I even liked the Chicks Go Wild thing (when they did the whole Anthrax 'I'm the Man' core/rap thing). The B side of that tape is really good hardcore with very aggressive tunes - Justice, Kill or Be Killed and that song 'we were fucking while my best friend was dying'.

I've been a drummer myself for over 35 years and always dug Gus' playing. He also played on the follow up Life Sentence record with Hauck on bass and Brockman (on drugs) playing guitars and singing.

Had some fun times with some of those guys at a backyard impromptu party after the C.O.C. show at The Bank - lots of people there - KC from Lost Cause, Marc R. from No Empathy, Dan Schaeffer, all those skins that used to hang out by Dunkin' Donuts and hit on suburban Medusa's girls and a shit ton of other people. Those were good times!

If there is a picture of a early to mid 80's hardcore band, there WILL be a nylon bomber jacket and a guy in a Misfits shirt.

My bet is the guy in the bomber jacket is wearing oxblood Docs!