All language subtitles for American.Hardcore.2006.1080p.WEBRip.x265-RARBG

LUCKY LEHRER:
When we first got started,

we were dealing
with a bad economy,

inflation,
change of administration.

Reagan was
the kind of antithesis

or the reaction,
a whole new...

Like a paradigm shift.

And there was
a lot of concern over,

you know,
what might that mean

in terms of all
kinds of issues,

freedom of
speech and repression
and civil liberties and...

That was the...
Sort of that era.

(PAY TO CU PLAYING)

* Not long ago when things
were slow, we all got by
with what we know

* The end is near, hearts
filed with fear, don't want
to listen to what they hear

* And so it's now we choose
to fight, to stick up
for our bloody right

* The right to sing, the right
to dance, the right is ours...
We'll take the chance

* A peace together

* A piece apart

* A piece of wisdom
from our hearts *

In the early '80s,
there was this sense
of reestablishing the order.

You know, the white man...
The Ronald-Reagan-White-Man
order

is coming back.

You know,
you'd had that wimp,
Jimmy Carter,

talking about
peace and human rights
and all this other shit.

And you'd had,
you know, the feminists
and the negroes and the...

They're all getting
uppity on us, right?

So we're going to
reinstitute order here,
right?

And so the whole
country goes into

this--this really
puerile '50s fantasy

where they're dressing
in these cardigan sweaters

and we were just like,
"Fuck you. Fuck you. Not us."

You know, "You can take that
and shove it up your ass."

* Jealous cowards try
to control

* Rise above
Were gonna rise above

* They distort
what we say

* Rise above
Were gonna rise above *

We'd been going
through one of

the worst periods
in music possible.

Disco was at its peak.

Rock bands were
still big, like Foghat.

Just crap.

Everybody was
into this, like,

"Well, we've got
a shiny brand-new car."

And, "I just got
my hair feathered."

And,
"Oh, look at my clothes."

And "Oh, here,
want some cocaine?"

And "We're
drinking wine coolers."

And just all
that kind of crap.

For me, it was just...

So bored with
what was going on.

I mean,
in 1980 we're still listening
to the Doors and the Beatles

and we're supposed
to be bowing down
to that music,

and it just wasn't
our music.

They were all like,
formulaic bands,

like Journey and
the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac.

They're all great bands
for what they do.

It's just that when
you hear it constantly,
over and over and over again,

you're gonna
want to just vomit

or jump off
the nearest cliff,

throw yourself out
in front of an oncoming bus.

As a boy, I'm coming
up through the '60s,
so I thought, you know,

my late teens,
early twenties, were gonna be

the most radical
years of my life.

And I get there
and it's, yeah,

Pete Frampton
in a kimono, man.

Time was slow back then.

Things were barely moving
and this music just
came along and just...

It was like
an electrical charge.

It was like
a fucking comet hitting

the fucking planet,
you know what I mean.

It came out of left
fucking field, dude.

I had never heard
nor seen anything like this.

* Ronald laughs
as millions starve

* And profits
forever increase *

The music that we
were performing,

the lyrics that
we were writing

had nothing to do with
about holding
hands and smiling

and skipping off
into the sunset.

I couldn't fucking resist
this incredible scene

being under my
fucking doorstep,
you know,

full of hatred for
mainstream normalcy,
just like I was.

I mean, it was just like,
"Fuck it, I'm diving in,

"I don't care if I
ever come back up again."

And it took
a good long while.

MORRIS: We'd been made
all these promises.

You go to school,
you do your homework,

you go to college,
you get a great job,
you make lots of money,

you get married,
you have a couple of kids.

Dog, cat,
goldfish, two-car garage.

And that's just not
the way that it is.

Somebody's got to say,
"This isn't right."

Because everybody else
is saying,

"It's morning in America,"
you know.

Somebody's got to say,
"It's fucking midnight, man!"

I'm working
Monday through Friday.

Here comes Friday night
and I'm just gonna go off.

I hate my boss,
I hate the people

that I work with,
I hate my parents,

I hate all these
authoritative figures,
I hate politicians,

I hate people in government,
I hate the police.

You know, everybody's kind of
pointing the finger at me.

Everybody's picking at me.

Everybody's poking at me.

And now I have a chance
to be with a bunch of
my--my own type of people

and I have
a chance to go off.

And that's
basically what it was.

* Red, I'm seeing red
I'm seeing red

* I'm seeing red
I'm seeing red

* Red, I'm seeing red
I'm seeing red
I'm seeing red *

For me, punk was the portal.

It was the portal to
the counterculture.

That's where I belonged.

That's where I lived.
That's how I got there.

But punk rock at that time

was becoming more associated
with just the Sex Pistols
and Sid Vicious.

Now,
Sid Vicious was, you know,

he was a junkie,
a nihilistic junkie,

and we were not.

So we really were trying
to carve out our own place.

And we said,
"No, we're hardcore punk."

That's, you know, hardcore.
Hardcore punk.

We started calling
it hardcore, okay,
like, you know,

as far as being
like hardcore porn.

It means it's like,
it's right down to the core.
It's the real deal.

I could never be
Gene Simmons or

Ace Frehely or in
some band where,

you know, where
you're spitting out fire
and there's explosions.

And I couldn't play
like Eddie Van Halen.

I still can't.

And then this new
sound comes along

and it's, you know,
simple but aggressive.

* Ready to fight,
ready to fight,
fight, fight, fight, fight

* Ready to fight, ready

(AUDIENCE APPLAUDING)

RICHARD CRANMER: I guess
the whole new wave thing
was going on

and it was just
kind of sickening,
to tell you the truth.

They started having, you know,
all these, like,

what they used to call
"skinny tie bands,
" all the "day-glo bands"

'cause they were all wearing
those neon colors.

When hardcore came out
I was a little kid

and I had missed out on,
you know, the '77 punk thing

and I wasn't around
for the '70s rock thing.

So here was something
that was happening,
that was new,

that we were making up
as it went along.

We were making the rules up
and creating this sound.

And the bands and the people
around, when the scene
was small enough,

it was exciting.

It was like you were
on the cusp of something
that was just...

You didn't know
where it was gonna go.

* We'll have
the straight edge *

Normal people did not
listen to hardcore. And
we liked it that way, right?

Because you can
listen to that shit.

You can listen to
Fleetwood Mac.
Go listen to that shit.

We are not gonna abide it.
We are about
blowing all of that up.

We are about destroying
everything in that.

And you can't live our way
unless you cross that divide.

I, Ronald Reagan,
do solemnly swear...

That I will faithfully execute
the office of President
of the United States.

...that I will faithfully
execute

the office of President
of the United States.

And will,
to the best of my ability...

And will,
to the best of my ability...

...preserve,
protect and defend...

...preserve,
protect and defend...

...the Constitution
of the United States.

...the Constitution
of the United States.

So help you, God.

So help me, God.

Punk rockers loved
to hate Reagan worldwide.

Songs were written,
posters were made,
signs were raised,

and oranges were hurled.

Every punk rock band
of that era must have had
at least one or two posters

where they'd have that picture
of Ronald Reagan
from The Killers

with the gun like this, right.

You know, with that look
on his face, type thing,

like, "I'm going to kill you,
motherfucker."

* You're fucked up, Ronnie
You're not gonna last

* You're gonna die soon
From a Neutron blast

* You're fucked up, Ronnie
You're fucked up, Ronnie

* You're fucked up, Ronnie
You're fucked up, Ronnie *

As far as we knew,
we were the only people
in Orange County

who listened to punk rock
or knew what it was.

PATTON: The original
punk bands,

most of these people
were musicians,

and they were into like,
glitter, glam,
stuff like that.

And so they already knew
how to play

and they just kind of adopted
punk rock as a style.

We listened to the first
punk rock records
and we learned to play.

And we were doing it
really primitively because
we didn't really know,

so we just put it
all into energy.

* One, two, three, four...

(OUT OF VOGUE PLAYING)

The whole thing with hardcore
was that it was people
just picking up a guitar,

learning three chords,
playing as fast as they could.

The short fast songs,
trim all the fat.

Later do the intro,
later do the outro.

Cut the bridge in half
and get on with it.

I will just say exactly
what's on my mind,
and do it in 32 seconds.

* Stand on both feet,
hold my own
No gun, no way to make a mark

* Impressed, obsessed
with people dying *

The less it was a song,
the more we loved it.

We're feeling this,
and we don't want to go slow.

We're not trying to be
melodic. We're not trying
to be cool or digestible.

We're giving you all our angst
and all our feeling
as hard as we can.

* I've got no values

* Nothing to say

* I've got no values

* Might as well
blow you away *

We don't know how to sing.
We weren't singing.

We were just screaming
against authority
and our parents

and about everything
that was pissing us off
in our life.

We were just kids
who refused to be
sort of slotted

into this sort of
generic kid role.

It was for kids, it was
about kids, it was by kids.

It was the manifestation
of youth.

It was fast, it was loud,
it was angry,
it was unpredictable.

That's what kids were.
Like, we were just kids
going wild, you know.

And I felt like the music
perfectly represented that.

* I don't play by these rules

* I play by my rules

* Why should we listen
to those rules?

* My rules!

Lots of these kids
were like 14.

They were snorting
methamphetamine
and fucking in the alley.

It was considered
an outcast thing.

It was considered
something for losers.
It was considered something

that people felt sorry for you
for having to endure.

And all of a sudden
we realized, "Wow,

"for being losers
we've created something
that's so much better

"than the milieu
that we've been rejected by."

It was the only rock
kind of music that came out

that didn't feel like
it was totally ripping off
black culture.

And it wasn't that
it was white culture
versus black culture.

It was just that there wasn't
that guilt of listening
to a Led Zeppelin song

and going, "Wait, that's like,
uh, this really old
blues song."

You grow up in America
as a minority group,

you know that
there are preconceptions, um,
that--that people have of you

just because you are
part of a minority group.

Well, all of a sudden
it dawned on me

that I had just become
part of another
minority group.

I was a punk rocker.

* Banned in D.C. with
a thousand more places to go

* Gonna swim across
the Atlantic 'cause that's
the only place I can go

* You, you can't hurt me

* 'Cause I, I'm banned in D.C.

People would assume,
you're in a band, you're
trying to make it to the top.

And you'd go, "You don't
understand the scene I'm in.

"We're trying to
level the top."

No one ever made a record
and said, "They're gonna
play that on the radio."

It's like, "No, they're not."
It's like... That's like...

You know, that's like
a black guy saying,

"I'm gonna be elected
the president
of the Ku Klux Klan."

"No, you're not."

I mean, no one would
even think like that.
You know what I'm saying?

So none of these bands
ever thought,
"I'm gonna be on the radio."

No, you're not.
So why even think like that?

You're not accepted,
they're not gonna play you,

you're just doing this
for the fun of it.

You're not gonna sell
a ton of records, you're not
gonna make a bunch of money,

you're just doing this
'cause you love it.

It was totally living in
the moment. You didn't think
about like, you know,

trying to build a fan base
or trying to have a career,

because that was absurd.

You weren't going to have
a career playing this music.

It just wasn't
going to happen.

MAN: One, two,
one, two, three, four...

(AGRESSIVE PUNK MUSIC PLAYING)

We would play wherever
we could play so people would
know we existed as a band.

There were no promoters
knocking on our door,

wanting us to come
and play their clubs.

We played at churches.
We played in basements.

We played in living rooms.

Abandoned gas stations,
people's parties
in their backyards.

We did a show at this...
It was at a dog...

It was at the canine dog
college. Basically it was
like a dog training school.

Boogied all the way
to Salt Lake City
and we got there, uh,

and the place was closed,
locked up.

So we went to the kid's house,
pulled him out of bed

and we threatened him
with a baseball bat,

and we would have kicked
the shit out of him.

We made him give us
all the money he had on him

and stole some other shit
from him. But when we
got there, there wasn't a gig.

You just never knew
what you would walk into.

Would it be an arcade,
would it be a basement,

would it be like
some guy's work?

When we found out
that somebody owned
a shopping center

or somebody's apartment
complex or somebody's
mom and dad was moving,

we would then
rush to that place

and say, "Well, there's a show
going on tonight."

And, you know,
"Everybody's invited."

The record industry
is all about getting big,
getting coke, getting girls.

Right?
And fuck everybody else.

And because our position was,
"We're against that.

"We're the opposite of that."

The industry trivializes music
because they want
people to consume.

So there's like, "Buy this,
it doesn't mean nothing."

So in a way, if you have
already, you know...

Once you buy into
that kind of, that picture,
then it's sort of like,

artists are like, "Oh, well,
you know," you know,
"I'm just a fuck up."

And "I'm getting paid
millions of dollars,"
you know. Whatever.

And it just becomes
really dismissible.

There was no record companies
behind the bands.

There was no A and R
interest in the bands.

So anything that grew, grew
at a very grassroots level.

You were in charge
of everything.

You know, putting on gigs.
Putting out zines.

It was more than just
a look on stage.

D.I.Y. Do it yourself.

If there's someplace
you wanna be,
go there yourself.

If there's something you wanna
create that does not exist,
do it yourself.

Recording is pretty much,
"Play the song.
Okay, the song's done."

You know, it's not like,
"I don't know, you know.

"Maybe if you could, uh,
lay back a little behind
the beat on that."

I mean, that--that never
happened, you know.

It was just what you got
is what it was.

CHUCK TREECE: These records
were done in, like, a day.

Like in, cut, and then out,
you know what I mean?

Because it's like,
you really didn't have time

to mull over the
fact of like, crafting songs.

I mean, it's more or less like
if you had your energy right

and you played in those shows,
and you went into it,

you know what I mean,
with like, your head straight,

then that's, you know,
what you got.

The group had to
rely on creativity.

And the music had to come off
live that way,

as soon as we delivered it
in our expression.

Um, in the early days,
that was it.

Our first records,
we made ourselves.

Pay to Cum, the first single
we did, we paid for it.

A friend of ours
who worked
at a printing company

printed this stuff off
after hours,

and we sat down there
and folded them and inserted
them lyrics in there

and did all that stuff
ourselves.

It felt like it was a million
damn records, and we didn't
even get through the first...

There's only a thousand
and we didn't even
get to the thousand.

We only actually did inserts
and covers and everything
for 500 of them.

We had some singles
from England that we liked,

so we just pulled them apart

to see how they were
fabricated, unfolded them.

So you had basically,
this sort of like,

you know, seven inches
and then there was
like little flaps.

You know, like, and you fold
them up and you fold
the flaps inside.

You fold them together
and you glue them together.

So we said,
"Okay, that's how you do it."

So we just took that
unfolded thing.

We laid it on an 11" by 14"
piece of white paper.

We drew a line around it
and we laid the art
within the lines.

We took that to
a printing press and said,

"Just print this 11" by 14"
piece of paper."

And then, using scissors,
we cut out every fucking one,

and Elmer's glue and folded
every one, inserted every one.

We did that for 10,000 records
easily. Every seven-inch.

We did it by hand.
Just sat there
cutting and folding.

It's... We didn't know.
We were learning.

GREG GINN: The first shows
we played were parties,
free parties in the South Bay.

Uh, Hermosa Beach
and we played...
We did that for a long time

because, uh, we couldn't
really find gigs.

This is where Black Flag's
second gig
and our, uh, first gig was.

It's apartments now.
These four little things.

It was the Teen Post here
and it was with
the Alley Cats.

And the Descendents'
first gig, they were like
14, 15 years old.

ATTA: People would
always hang out
whenever there was a show,

and this kid came up to us
and he's going, "I've got
a band, too, you know.

"We're really, like, hardcore,
like, just straight ahead,

"you know, fast punk rock.
You know?"

And we were going,
"Okay. Yeah, that's great,
what's the name of it?"

And he said, "Black Flag."
And, uh, it was Keith Morris.

And we were going,
"You mean,
like the roach spray?"

Black Flag had this austere,

kind of very earnest,
serious thing about them

that made you kind of
respect it, be in awe of it.

The band had a logo.
The band had a look.
The four bars.

It was really all
very overwhelming.

They just had this very
intense take on things.
They had a political agenda.

Those guys were operating
at a very, like, intellectual
level, and then...

But the brute animal
fucking strength of it
and the power and ferocity

was also like, off the map.

Black Flag brought
the suburban element
into the, uh, the punk rock

and helped define
what punk rock was gonna
turn into during those times.

MORRIS: The scene in
Los Angeles was spreading out

like if you were to spill
a bucket of water.

All of a sudden it wasn't just
about Hollywood.

But it was more about
Ventura County, it was more
about the Valley,

it was more about
Orange County.

It was more about
where we were from,
which is the South Bay,

which is about 25 miles south
of Los Angeles.

Still part of LA County,
but it was the beach area.

The Church was like a commune,
a hippie commune,

an arts and crafts center.

It was in Hermosa Beach.
It was about a block
from the beach.

Beautiful building,
perfect for
what we were doing,

throwing parties,
playing loud music
late at night.

That's where the whole,
you know, 1980s LA
Orange County sounds...

It all revolved around
these parties at The Church.

STEVE SOTO:
We're at the Black Hole.

And it's pretty much where,
like, the Fullerton punk scene

really kind of came together.

Everyone hung out here.

It's where you came
to get away from your parents
and everything else.

And this is where everyone
came and got drunk.

We were frustrated.
And we were trying to find
a way out of the normal,

just weird, basic,
suburban normality.

CURTIS CASELLA:
The Adolescents represented
everything that was LA.

Frustrated, suburban,

dissatisfied with getting up
in the morning,

and hating
everything around you.

TONY CADENA: I was making
a--a record

to um,

really to nullify

m-my Orange County existence.

You know, to really say
to the... What, you know,
what was around me.

You know, you know, it was...
You know, it was literally
to--to lash out at that.

Tony was an amazing performer
right from the start,
you know.

It was like putting a cat
in a bag and shaking it up

and throwing it out
at the crowd.

* We'll attack, we'll attack

* We'll attack, we'll attack
We'll attack, we'll attack

* We'll attack, we'll attack
We'll attack, we'll attack

* We'll attack, we'll attack
We'll attack, we'll attack

* We'll attack, we'll attack

(AUDIENCE CHEERING)

Somehow we got to
the opening slot
of a Germs show.

And Eddie from the Subtitles,
who was really
connected up in LA,

that night goes...
You know, didn't ask,
told us he was our manager.

And he was a great one,
because I mean,
really he got us...

He got us in the door in LA,
got us hooked up there.

Uh, he got us all, you know,
hopped up on pills.

For some reason,
real surfers have always
been fucked up.

The HBs, we called them,
from Huntington Beach

who wore leather jackets
and leather engineer boots

with chains and bandanas
on them.

They were the high school jock
who found punk rock.

So they still have that, like,
"What's up, dickhead?"
mentality.

The music was just basically
a backdrop for being fucked.

Jack Grisham is like
the Iggy Pop
of--of LA hardcore.

He used to go
up there onstage

in full drag, a full face
of makeup and a dress,

and if anyone said anything
to him, he would kick
the living crap out of them.

He was so tough.

* I can hear
the sounds of laughter

* Could it be
they're laughing at me?

* I can hear
the roar of thunder

* I'm mad, I'm deranged

* I see clowns in costumes,
voices that carry

* Their message to my mind

* I'm a child
so young and carefree

* My eyes see
what they want to see *

You roll into somebody's
house, you know,
and you start drinking,

and then, you know,
you're throwing the fucking
potted plants at each other.

You know, somebody breaks
in the parents' room.

You know,
you go in the closet,
you're pissing on the shoes.

You know, you're stealing
shit, you're going through...

You're getting
the credit cards out.

You know, a fight breaks out
in the kitchen,
everybody's jumping on.

You know, the house gets
fucking wrecked,
the band plays,

the cops show up, you know,
and instead of running,

it's, "Let's get them, man."

You know, and it's...
And then you turn
on the police.

Somebody came up
and wanted to get
into the show

and didn't have any money
and gave me two pipe bombs.

I remember Mike being
kind of a snot. He goes,
"Why should I get you in?"

You know, I'm just some guy,
you know, "Why should
he get some guy in?"

And I go, "Well,
'cause I have a bomb.
Here, I have a bomb.

"I've got two.
You can have one
if you get me in."

And he's like... He goes,
"How do I know it's
gonna even work?"

I go, "Well, okay, watch."

So I went down the street
and took one of them

and put them against this
garage door and lit it

and just blew this
fucking garage door off.

(EXPLOSIONS)

And me being a violent,
robbing, grave-digging rapist

was part of my world.

I mean, that was like, "Well,
this is what we do, man.

"Yeah, that chick passed out
and I pissed in her face.
What. So what?"

One of the first times
we went out of town at all,

we went up to San Francisco.

So we drove up, you know,
us, all of our friends

piled into everybody's cars,

maybe 20 or 30 kids
from the scene from LA

and we played a show

with the Dead Kennedys,
at the Mabuhay Gardens.

And we go on
and the kids totally
took over the pit.

It sounds like
someone's exaggerating
when they tell you the story.

It sounds like, "Oh, yeah,
you're just making it up."

No. I've never seen
anything like it.

Ask Ian. Ask Hetson.
Ask Keith Morris.

The Circle Jerks
started playing,
and all you saw was fists

and San Francisco locals
hitting the floor.

HETSON: They were still
pogoing back then,
up there in San Francisco.

So we came in with our people
and they just fucked up
the whole thing.

The promoter was
freaking out.

"What's this, you bring
these crazy kids

and they're destroying shit
and they're fighting."

It's like,
"No, we're not fighting,
it's the way we do it in LA."

And they're stage diving.

Nobody had seen
anything like that.
So that was kind of cool.

They're knocking guys out.
One bouncer gets cut open.

I mean, there's blood.
There's violence
before the show.

They chased a guy
underneath a car

and were trying to
pull him out and beat him.

I mean, I've never seen
anything like this.

And like, they had the whole
place kind of terrified.

It was a huge impact on us.
So we, of course,
go back to the DC scene.

When bands play
the audience is like...

(GRUNTING)
And we're like...

You know, mowing through
people, elbows into heads.

People were like, "What are
you doing?" We're like,
"That's what we're doing!"

And it'd be like...

Because we...
All of a sudden
it's all agrro.

Within two weeks,
every male hitting puberty
is in that crowd,

and every bouncer's
getting swung at.

So, me and my friends
used to call them
Washifornians,

because they, like, totally
imported the West Coast
style to DC.

That influenced DC sound,
that and the Bad Brains.

The combination of those
elements kind of contributed
to creating the DC sound.

* You can't disappear anymore

* I see your face lurking
outside the window

* You say you're a trife,
I'm a bore

* You touch yourself,
put your face in the pillow

* But the funny thing
about you is

* You remembered
to leave it behind

* The funny thing about me is

* I'm a member
of the right brigade *

We had to come up
with an angle

or some kind of, uh, approach

that would be
very radical and creative,

but then at the same time
kind of traditional.

And something that people
would be able to
universally relate to.

It wasn't like, a musical
thing. It wasn't like,
a fucking entertainment thing.

It was like,
we figured out these riffs,
we had this message,

and we just had to
drop the shit.

* Not long ago when things
were slow, we all got by
with what we know

* The end is near, hearts
filed with fear, don't want
to listen to what they hear

* And so it's now we choose
to fight, to stick up
for our bloody right

* The right to sing, the right
to dance, the right is ours...
We'll take the chance

* A peace together

* A piece apart

* A piece of wisdom

* From our hearts

The Bad Brains were the band
that everybody
feared to play with.

'Cause you knew you were going
to get your ass
blown off stage!

They were tight and powerful
and committed

and exhibiting
an incredible emotional,
involving emotional vibe,

while playing
as technically challenging
as you can imagine.

I mean, stop-on-the-dime
starts and stops,

and extreme precision,
locking up of rhythm

and, uh,
just innovative melodies,

and--and chord patterns,

and, uh, over it all, HR,

the maniac vocalist,

dancing across the stage
and screaming and whooping
and hollering

and just slinging his soul out
into the microphone.

H.R.: As a teenager
I was into acrobats.

When I went on the stage,

the intensity of the music
would sometimes be so
immense and so energetic,

that I would feel like jumping
into the audience

or doing some kind of, uh,
flips in the air,

something like that, you know.
And that's what it came from,

just a feeling of exuberation,
of jubilee, you know.

It really was inspiring.
It made me realize, like,
"Take it seriously.

"Like, don't just...
Don't just be satisfied
with some shit. Push it."

They would come to our shows
and they were very young,

about 13, 14, 15 years old.

And they wanted to start
a group called Teen Idles.

(AGGRESSIVE PUNK
MUSIC PLAYING)

They were very enthusiastic
but couldn't perfect
their instruments.

You know, I was nervous,
'cause I was playing
in front of the Bad Brains.

I was having a hard time.
I was thinking like, "Well,

"that's some shitty bass,

"setting up a bad amp,
you know, bad equipment."

But then when I hand the shit
to Darryl, man, it was not
the bass, it was not the amp,

it was definitely the player.

I was able to come up with
some really great plans
for these undergraduates,

is what I'd call them,
or students or interns.

And their interest
was immense.

I referred them to the Bible,
and also to this great book

by an individual named
Napoleon Hill. And it's called
Think And Grow Rich.

The "think and grow rich"
concept was just
a positive influence.

And that was the catalyst
to just make us find God,
still, you know.

So, it wasn't quite
L. Ron Hubbard,

but it was concepts of power
of positive thinking.

I don't care what you say,
I don't care what you do,

we got our attitude.

I don't care what you
may know. I don't care.
You can't touch us.

JENIFER: You got that PMA
You got that PMA

Like how we used to say,
you know.

Hey, we got that attitude
We got that attitude

That was like a song
that really, like,
said that, you know,

we're, you know, we're here
on some punk rock shit.

* Don't care
what you may think

* We've got that attitude

* Don't care what you may do

* We've got that attitude

MacKAYE: It's a self-loathing
town. It's a transient town.

If you're of here, if you're
from here, and you're of here,
you hold on tight.

You got to.
'Cause the currents
are just whipping on past.

Every four years another
President, some other
jackass comes through.

Who are your parents
when you're living
in Washington in 1980,

and you're a teenager?
Why are your parents here?

What do they do?
Well, there's a good chance

that they are involved
with the current
administration,

or perhaps they're
involved with one of
the major colleges here

or they're involved
in the news media in some way.

My father is
a United States Senator.

He's the Senator
from the state of Hawaii.

BAKER: Georgetown Day School
is a private school.
It was a hippie school.

You didn't have to wear shoes.
You could bring
your dog to school.

Uh, you called your teachers
by their first names.

I happened to be at the right
school at the right time,

and that's how
I got into Minor Threat.

Our first show
is going to be at a party
at 1929 Calvert Street,

and we're going to open
for the Bad Brains,

who I have never seen play,
who are the biggest thing
in the world.

(SIGHS)

* We're just a minor threat

* We're just a minor threat

* We're just a minor threat

* We're just a minor threat

(FAN WHOOPS)

All right.

I understand a lot of people,
they're like,

"Well, Minor Threat's
such a simple band."

Minor Threat was not a simple
band. That music was good.

Those guys could play.
That was a good band.

And for guys who were
16 years old, 17 years old,
they were knocking it out.

Their playing, it was
unheard-of. It was a really...
It was a new form.

* Something's fucked up
Something's not right

* I came to have a good time
You came to fight

* But if I do fight
Nothing to fear

* 'Cause I know
My friends are here

* I don't like to fight
I don't like getting hurt

* Got my guard up
State of alert

* I don't look for trouble
Trouble finds me

* Need my friends
In an emergency

* Don't go alone
Go with a friend

* You might need him
In the end

* Stand up, stand up
Stand up, stand up

* And be counted

* Stand up

* Stand up, stand up
Stand up, stand up

* And be counted

I stand behind all my lyrics.

But I know that when I wrote
Guilty Of Being White,

I grew up in Washington, DC,
which is a black
majority city.

I went to
the public schools here,

and I know that when I wrote
that song I was writing
an anti-racist song,

because I was singing a song
about being in a minority.
I was...

In my junior high school,
I was one of 10% white kids,

and in my senior high school,
I was one of 25% white kids.

And I know that when I wrote
that song I was saying,

"I'm only guilty of being
white. Don't judge me
for the color of my skin."

It's anti-racist.
It's so clear.

How could I know that some,
like, nationalist
Nazi guy in Poland

would listen to that song
15 years later
and then say to me, like,

"It is so good you speak
for the white man."
How could I know?

* Guilty of being white

* Guilty of being white

* Guilty of being white

And here I thought I was like
Mr. Joe Punk Rock,

and I went down to DC one day
to go see SOA and I think
the Untouchables.

It was a total hardcore show.
I had never been to one
before.

I just walked in, I was like,
"Oh, my God! These people
are killing each other."

You know, it kind of
frightened me but it was
kind of fun at the same time.

So I was like, "I wanna be
a part of that scene."

But, you know, these guys
were all from the DC area.

They all lived in...
"Georgetown Punks" is what
they called themselves.

Ian MacKaye
and his brother Alec
and that whole crew,

and Henry Warfield
before he became
Henry Rollins.

You know,
I wanted to be just like them.

MacKAYE: Georgetown
is a fashionable
shopping district.

And, um, when the person
called us Georgetown Punks,

they meant it
as a really deep insult.

We, of course, took it as,
like, "All right, well,
we're Georgetown Punks."

So then we referred to
ourselves as Georgetown Punks.

* Face to face

* Face to face

* Face, face, face

* Who are you?

* Who are you?

* Came without warning
Came without warning

* Came without warning
Came without warning *

ROLLINS: The Circle Jerks
and Black Flag would tour.

So they're pollinating
with this influence
and with this music.

So every scene they're going
through, all of a sudden
bands are springing up.

And bands are starting
to network.

Where we first met
Henry Rollins was in,
uh, New York

where he came up to from DC

to, uh,
one of our shows there.

And then when we came back,
uh, to New York a second time,

he was there again
and he came and talked to us.

We just thought
he was a--a nice guy

and interested
in what we were doing
and--and that kind of thing.

I said, "Hey, can you guys
play Clocked In,"

a song about going to work,
"Because I gotta
go to work now."

And Dez goes, "All right,
this is for Henry."
'Cause I was like right there.

"This is for Henry because
he's got to go to work."

And I kind of looked,
you know, wantingly
at the microphone and he went,

"And, uh,
Henry's going to sing it."

Henry Rollins ended up jumping
up and singing Clocked In.

And all of a sudden
it was like they called him
the next day and like,

"You want to be the singer
for Black Flag?"
And... He moved to LA.

That was it. That was history
right there. And we saw it.

We had the day off,
so I was, like,
hanging out in bars,

goofing off, being a jerk.
You know?

And I see the guys
and they're like,

"Well, we want you to ask
this guy Henry
to join the band."

About a day later,
Greg Ginn called me
at the store.

Said, "Hey, uh, we're
auditioning singers.

"Dez doesn't want to sing.
He wants to play guitar.

"We saw you sing the other
night. We liked your 45.

"Your SOA record. Would you
come up here and audition
to be in Black Flag?"

I was like, "Y-Yes."
I mean, I was terrified.

But what did I have to lose?
I had a job that paid me
$3.50 an hour,

and--and here's an
opportunity. So I said yeah.

So I took the Amtrak up there,
did two sets with the band,

and they took a little vote
and I was in the band.

And, uh, it was pretty
astounding news
to tell a young guy.

I was still on the fence
about the whole thing.

It was a huge step to take.
So I called Ian.
I--I told him what happened.

I go, "What do you think?"

He says, "Are you kidding?
You're gonna be great.
Get out there."

And that's what I needed
to hear, Ian MacKaye
give me the green light.

* Thirty-five dollars
and a six-pack to my name

* Six-pack!

* Spent the rest on beer
so who's to blame?

* Six-pack!

* They say I'm fucked up
all the time

* Six-pack!

I don't care
what anybody says.

When Black Flag got
Henry Rollins,

that was
a fucking mold,
a melding of.

What a band.

At that-- At that juncture,
with Rollins, and--and Dez
playing rhythm guitar,

they were unstoppable.

ANSELMO: They were
in a fucking frustrated

sweat...

I mean this is what
your mind imagines, you know.

A basement
of fucking frustration, man.

And fucking...
They were fucking howling.

Henry being the face
of the band

and being the front man,
took a lot more of the abuse.

No question about it.

The first gig with, uh,
Black Flag and he
fucking gets up there...

(GRUNTING)

And fucking Tony Chuco
just walks up and goes...

Fucking smacks him right
in the face. His nose breaks.
Blood everywhere.

He goes, "Welcome to
San Diego."
It was fucking mayhem.

He was dealing face to face
with people's conception
of what punk rock was

which included
violence and nastiness,
and he took the brunt of that.

Some people thought
he wanted to have
his ass kicked.

In hardcore you have a map.
And every city is a band.

San Diego,
I don't think of a zoo.

I think of one thing. I think
of Battalion of Saints.

Reno, Nevada.
I don't think of a casino.
I think of 7 Seconds.

Portland, Oregon,
I don't even know
what's there.

Gus Van Sant?
I think of Poison Idea.

In the Black Flag days,
you stayed
on a series of floors.

No, there was no hotel,
no money for a hotel,

and we'd stay
with The Effigies,
we'd stay with Husker Du.

We would stay with, you know,
whoever in Seattle.

You know, and there's
all of these kind
of alliances.

You know, you knew the
SS Decontrol guys, you could
always borrow their gear.

Uh, in DC, of course,
any band will help you out
because, you know,

I was on tour with Black Flag,
I'm a DC guy.

We--We have, you know, uh,
allies in New York.

We've got them
in San Francisco.

In Vancouver, you--you stay
at Joey Shithead's house.

We always had friends
everywhere.

I mean, these guys
were going places

that there were no punks.

They were just basically
saying, "We're gonna play

"and we expect everyone
within 200 miles
to show up who's interested."

So we're gonna sleep
not only on the floor
but under the sink.

Black Flag rented
rehearsal time

uh, for 8:00 a.m.

on Christmas morning 1981.

8:00 a.m.?
Christmas morning?

They wanna rehearse?

I said, you know,
"Hey, they're Black Flag,
I'm not gonna argue."

Well, that was typical
Black Flag.

Load in at bright and early
and practice,

because we hadn't done a show
in three days.

And that was
the way of Black Flag.
Just practice. Live it.

(CONGREGATION SINGING HYMN)

I am the Reverend,
uh, Hank Peirce,

and this is the
Unitarian Universalist
Church of Medford.

Here, the church I serve
as its called minister.

You know, whenever I see
people who are like
rock 'n' roll ministers,

they're all like, "Oh, and
that's when I was a sinner,

"and then I found the Lord."

And that's not what I believe.
I'm, you know,
a bit more settled down.

But I'm still the same,
you know,
jackass I always was.

The first time I ever
went to a, you know,
a really big hardcore show,

I kind of walked in,
it was crazy.
The Circle Jerks were playing.

I just walked in
and I was like,
"Oh, my God. This is crazy."

And yet at the same time
having this like,

inner calm sweep over me
and sort of saying,
"This is my tribe."

* I've got the straight edge

MacKAYE: There is no shortage
of people out there
saying like, "Get high."

I mean, they're everywhere.
On every kind of music.

Everybody was just saying,
"Get high, get high,
get high."

You know, whether it was like
Eric Clapton singing
about cocaine

or Lou Reed singing
about heroin. Or anybody.

Everything was
just about getting high.
Have a good time, get high.

But a lot of kids were like...

I think they were looking
for someone to not say that.

Straight Edge was once again
a--a great feeling

of, "I'm not going to make
those same mistakes
other people made."

Or at least,
"I'm not going to be..."

You know,
"I hate the people
around me so much

"that I'm going to be
the exact opposite
of who they are."

It spoke to
a whole generation of kids
who had just seen the '70s.

You know, and they'd
seen kids in high school

getting stoned
three times a day

and, you know, just becoming
wasties at a very, you know,
tragically early age.

To find out that across
the country there's these kids

who didn't drink,
didn't do drugs

and didn't really think
that was a cool thing to do,

and--and actually made
a--a point of mentioning it

a lot in the music,
we identified with that.

We were kids
and we were fucking pricks.

Smart, hostile and sober.

See, I remember seeing
the Bad Brains,
and HR took me aside.

He said, "Ian, man, we just
went out on tour, man,

"and there are kids
all over the country, man,
they want to know.

"You gotta go out
and tell them.

"They're asking me
about you guys, man,
you gotta go out there."

Said, "You opened this up,
man, you gotta finish it."

It was like the straight-edge
thing.

I was like,
"God damn, well, fuck.
That's-- That's heavy."

The influence of Minor Threat
carried onto Boston, SSD.

I think what Boston did
to Minor Threat, like...

Minor Threat had a very...

It was a kind of a safe way
of--of, you know,
telling people not to drink.

But when it got-- when it got
filtered up north to Boston,

it got a little eviler.

I figured out that, you know,
was about time
to get something going.

The city, it's like,
it's just become too dry

and all the, uh,
new-wave faggots and all
the new-romantic bullshit

was going on,
and whereas like the scene
we have built now and created,

is an underground
and is based...
As far as its base,

we built,
there is no partying.

I mean, no one drinks
and no one smokes
at the shows.

If they do, they better
do it behind our backs.

It doesn't hurt that
we had, like, Al Barile

as our, you know,
master of ceremonies,

you know,
and he's a freaking tank.

He was like a quarterback.
You know, he was
the one calling the shots.

Calling, you know, like,
"Okay, you guys,
you drinking over there?

"You from Norwood.
You're okay. Come on in.
You're welcome, all right."

I have a lot of pride
in Boston. I like, you know,
the sports thing.

That comes back to my-- to my
jock... Whatever that thing
said in that thing.

Hockey jock.
The hockey jock mentality.

Al's a hockey player.

He put down his hockey stick,
he picked up a guitar.

And that's--
And that's it.

You know?
Go, team, go!

And he approaches
guitar that way

and I always thought
I would see him in front
of his Marshall going...

You remember this.
He'd be going...

(GRUNTING)
"Do you think this
speaker's broken?

"I think it's this one."
And he'd have his head
in the fucking...

And we'd be on the other side
of the room, like,
"Al, shut up! Shut up!"

And I'm sure it's
because he worked at GE
all day in the machine shop

with like grinders
and buffing wheels
and milling machines going,

and, you know,
he was probably
used to that sound.

And to me, that's what
his guitar was like.

Yes, yes, yes,

yes, yes, yes.

Al was always having
equipment problems and the PA
was always shutting down.

But when you're a young kid,
I mean, that was cool.

It was like, "The fucking
equipment is malfunctioning.
They're too powerful.

"They can't handle
the great SSD."

* I've kept it bottled up
for years

* Instead of fighting
or shedding tears

* Now it's time to let go

* My boiling point's
about to show

* I don't know
if I'll lose control

* Of my mind, my body,
or soul

* Boiling point
Boiling over

* Boiling point
Now it's over *

I think there's a tone
of seriousness

with that band that didn't
exist with a lot of
other punk rock bands.

It wasn't a fun band.

SSD was a movement.
They were more than a band.

They were definitely
a movement.

They, uh, had an aura about
them and an image about them.

The fans were dedicated.

Now we had music in our area.
We had Boston hardcore
punk rock.

It was almost like
a call to arms, you know.

He went on that radio program
and said, you know,
"We're starting a scene."

If they're starting a scene,
I want to be in that scene.

Who is it?
WOMAN: Springer.

Oh, my goodness.

This suddenly becomes
very interesting.
Yeah.

James J? Lethal?

(ALL LAUGHING)
I think we should
open with Decontrol.

Then into the Drug Fools
then the Police.

Not Police Beat but Police.
That's the first set list
right there. Ever.

(DRUMS PLAYING)

Okay, here it is, Hardcore
Punk Gallery East. There it
is, this is the first show.

Let's go.
That's the first one,
why don't you talk about that.

That's the first one.
MAN: Yeah, this is it.

That's the first one,
see it was called
Hardcore Punk,

it wasn't even
the name of a band.

Don't be wearing anybody
else's. We got our own shirt.

Fucking beautiful, isn't it?

Look at them all,
look at them all.

Holy shit.
"Liberty or Give us Death."

That was a really good show.

Me and most of my friends
came from broken homes.

So we were pissed off,

but we didn't really know
what we were pissed off about.

Just that,
you know, life sucks,
and we're stuck here

in Braintree, Massachusetts.

Some kids will write
Gang Green on the wall
at school or something, and...

We'd appreciate it and shit.
And just when we'd get back...

And then underneath it,
someone will write "sucks"
underneath it, right?

And then someone else
scratches out "sucks"

and puts "is excellent"
or "is number one,"

and then someone puts
two zeros behind the one.

One hundred, you know.
It happens every time,
you know.

* Kill a commie,
kill a commie...

* Kill a commie,
kill a commie...

* Kill a commie,
kill a commie...

* Kill a commie,
kill a commie...

The whole Gang Green
experience for us
was this continuous...

It was not an act.

You know, what you got on
stage, you pretty much
got everywhere we went,

and imagine
how tiring that gets.

Because you're drunk all
the time, and you're running
from the law frequently,

'cause you're making trouble
everywhere you go.

I wanted to call the band
Gang Green, but no one
else liked the name.

So, they liked Jerry's Kids
better, I don't know.

* Got a feeling that I...
That I don't belong here

* And I know it's true

* I don't belong here

* And neither do you

DYS was the Department
Of Youth Services,

um, which is the organization
in Massachusetts which locks
up the juvenile delinquents.

* The numbers shock you

* It's the truth

* A mini-army

* Of angry youth

* Wolfpack!
Don't give us any shit.

* Wolfpack!
Or you're gonna get hit

* Wolfpack!
It's a unity ideal

* Wolfpack!
Better believe it's real

* Fucking proud to be a...

I think one of the classic
clashes of the generation was

the Negative FX show where
they were playing with
Mission of Burma's final show.

So you've got in the same
ballroom in front of
a thousand people,

you've got Choke
and Negative FX
and the entire Boston crew

and you've got five hundred
Mission of Burma fans.

And within two songs,
it degenerates into a riot.

MAN: Might makes right.
Might makes right.

We ain't gonna stop.
Fuck you!

(BASS AND GUITAR
START PLAYING)

* Might makes right
Might makes right

* Might makes right
Might makes right

CASELLA: Negative FX's career
was so short. Six flyers,
five shows, one album.

Eighteen songs.

Boston and DC
were always like this,
and didn't like New York.

And then, you know,
there we are in the middle

and they were always coming
to our shows, to the shows.

When we went to New York
it was war.

It was like, pull up in front
of the Rock Hotel
in Al's black van.

Everybody gets out.
You know, we've got black "X"s

on the back of our hands
with Sharpies.

The first time they came down,
we were like,

"Oh, cool, SSD, blah, blah,"
and they were
all kind of nice.

They were all cool.
They were all timid, you know.

Second time they came down,
they tried to come down

with a little bit of hard rock
attitude. I guess they heard
DC kind of did whatever.

Third time they came down,
they got housed.

And we sent them home
fucking... We sent them back
to the suburbs fucking

rethinking their whole shit,
like, you know,

"Don't fucking
come to New York
and fuck with us man,

"we're used to fucking
fighting with, like,
crazy fucking Puerto Ricans,

"who, like, stab people,
attack us with fucking guns,
bats,

"fucking hockey sticks
and everything else."

H.R.: It was the jungle.

And you were in Lower East
Side, and, you know,
there were the Hells Angels,

there were the hippies,
and then there were
these rockers,

who just had to be
acknowledged.

(VICTIM IN PAIN PLAYING)

* Why am I going insane?

* Why am I the one to blame?

We weren't rich kids
pretending to be punks.

FLANAGAN: I fucking slept
in fucking squats at night

with my fucking pit bull,
Lucifer, in bed with me

so the rats wouldn't
fucking run across me,

you know, and my fucking door
was held up with a chain.

We were just doing
what we were doing,
and didn't know...

I didn't know,
what the fuck
was I documenting?

Me getting fucking dusted
at a show? You know...

The kids in New York
were like, "Wow, we suck!"

"We don't have money.
We're not smart.

"We're not good-looking.
We're hung up on everything.

"We're all fucked up
on drugs." You know,
so it's kind of like,

we really worked hard
to, like, put New York
on the map

for New York, as a scene.

After doing intense research
and really going
into the club scene,

we found out, from reliable
sources, that the best thing
we should do

was go to New York.

When the Bad Brains
came to town, they changed
the face of music overnight.

* Step forward now,
no need to hide

* We can't lose
with Jah on our side

* Oh, bring the walls down

* Bring 'em down,
bring 'em down *

Jerry Williams, he invited us
to his rehearsal spot
and recording studio,

and said, "You know,
you cats can live here.

"If you need a place
to, uh, record,
please feel free."

WILLIAMS: 171 Avenue A.
It was an abandoned
glass shop.

We cleaned out
the glass store and, uh,
built a stage at one end,

and, uh, a glass-enclosed
booth at the other end,

and, uh,
started rehearsing there,

and started having
illegal weekend gigs there.

That was like the beginning
of the scene in New York,
kind of like, when we came.

You know, that was the--the
haven. That was the place.

And everybody would hang out
and we'd play music.

Sometimes there would even be
concerts that we would do,
you know.

And I was there when
the Bad Brains recorded
that whole first album.

I was up all night,
till 5:00, 6:00 in the morning
through all those sessions,

'cause I was living at 171 A
with the Bad Brains

while they were recording
the album.

Being in the-- in the booth...
"The booth," it was a box.

In the box with--with
Jerry and Harley and
John Joseph and the Bad Brains

when they first listened
to their final mixes
of the ROIR cassette.

Then it was even a big thing.

And never mind the sound
that they got out of the room,

if you listen
to that recording.

You know, bands spend
how much, $100,000
now on a recording

and they can't get it right
on Pro Tools?

These guys were recording
four tracks, in, like,
an empty storefront.

You know, and it
came out amazing.

The Big Takeover.
The beginning of that song.

The intensity
of that build-up.
That fucking quiet...

(IMITATING GUITAR PLAYING)

And just... And you just
fucking... You're just waiting
for it to fucking...

Just let it go, you know,
just waiting for that, like...

And it's on!

* No one dared to show
for that shower

* When nobody turned out
to be clean

* Was not even touched
by the water

* Just another Nazi scheme

* The big takeover, yeah.

* The big takeover

This is a lost tape. LA '82.

We was with Greg and them,
they took us
to this rehearsal spot

in the studio,
that's where it was!

MAN: Now you remember.

And they took us
to this studio, right,

and what tripped me out
about the shit was that

it was a lot of heavy metal
motherfuckers in there, right?

And they was like...

I was playing the pinball
machine in the spot and
it was like, we just in LA,

you know, I was like,
they said we could record or
practice in this spot, right.

So I remember, I was tripping
because the heavy metal
dudes was coming out,

practicing their shit
and their little dances
and their walks and shit.

Like it was really
a metal workshop spot.
And I was tripping on that.

(INSTRUMENTAL PART PLAYING)

The Beastie Boys surfaced
as a joke band. They
worshipped the Bad Brains,

and they called themselves
the Beastie Boys because
the initials were B.B.

They, just like everyone else,

were as excited, uh,
by the Bad Brains

and the emerging hardcore
scene as anyone else,

but, uh, they were kids.

They were 15, 16 years old
at that time and they didn't
really have the musical chops

to imitate
what they heard going on.

So they said, "Well, we're
going to have fun, we're
going to have fun with it."

And, uh they're still having
fun with it, you know,

they're having fun
with--with music of all kinds.

But originally it was...

They wanted to have fun
with hardcore punk rock,
you know.

I started Agnostic Front
about three years ago. Uh...

I wanted a band
to speak of social unrest,

political aspects to it...

He is New York hardcore.
Vinnie Stigma is New York
hardcore. Hands down.

You know, in a funny way,
Vinnie Stigma has an
incredible mind.

All the out of town bands
used to stay at my house.

Because I was the only one
with an apartment down here
near CBGB's.

You know, I was the only one
with a phone.

You know...
The closest clean
bathroom to CB's.

Yeah, right.

In a-- In a larger city,
where there's
a scene going on,

it's like there's this
stream of energy going, right?

There is a bunch of
other bands,
be they punk or whatever,

and all you have to kind of do
is jump into that stream
and get wet.

In the middle of the Midwest,
you have to dig
the fucking well.

There's no stream.

So you have to dig and you
have to dig and you have to
dig until you find water.

And that's it, there's nobody,
absolutely nobody to help you.

There's nobody putting on
shows. There's no people
managing bands.

Doing this stuff. So it is...
The work ethic had to be
really high.

Really deep down I wanted
to be a part of it.
You know what I mean?

It's a-- It's a weird thing.
Like you go and listen
to these records,

you get all pumped up
about them and you want
to be in the scene

but you're like not in that,
you know,
your band is not that band.

In Raleigh, we didn't
have that many places to play.

We'd run out of Kiwanis Clubs
and VFW halls,

but luckily, the one club
in town, The Brewery,

would let us rent the place
out for $200

on Sundays, and do these
little Sunday matinees.
Sort of like CBGB's.

Man, we had everybody.

We had Black Flag.
We had Suicidal.
We had Cro-Mags.

We had Battalion of Saints.
We had DOA.

Plus we could always
do our, like, local shows.

Austin, Texas
was a great little scene.
It was 35 bands there.

And then there was
a little scene in Houston.
And you're in like a vacuum.

It's like you're a thousand
miles from anywhere.

(I REMEMBE PLAYING)

I remember getting
intimidated and busted
at age 13 by the police.

I remember my friend
Tate Bryan being shot
in the back in Tampa, Florida

for his first-offense
burglary.

I remember the police
firing into crowds
and killing children

because they were
the wrong color.

I remember the narcs
in my high school trying to
set me up for a big fall.

I remember the police bringing
dogs into our school and then
sniffing away my rights.

The police is the Klan,
is the Mafia and they're
all in the police state.

And they're out for me,
and soon they're gonna
be out to get you!

So you better get going
if you know what's
good for ya!

And take your stand!

CASELLA: MDC was a record...
When we brought
that record home,

these hairs on the back
of your neck just stood up.

It was, uh, so, so extreme.

That's what we did have
in common with the Minor
Threats and the SS Decontrols

and the Zero Defects
and the Articles of Faiths
and the DOAs and the Fears,

was this pumped-up adrenalin
that we can't just
sit back and go,

* Hey, ho, let's go
Hey, ho, let's go *

And we were feeling
"Dead cops, dead cops,
dead cops!"

You know, the adrenalin
that was in the hardcore
movement was exciting.

We kind of, like,
took it up a notch.

A lot of the skinheads on
the East Coast were like, "Oh,
yeah, we're down with MDC.

"Yeah, we're fucking hardcore.
Yeah, fucking skinheads,
hate the cops."

And then big Dave would be
like "Oh, yeah, really?
Well, I'm a fag!"

And they would be like...
Just totally,
totally blown away.

He was like, "Yeah, last night
the guitar player
took a shit on me

"over at this guy's house."

Everyone's just like,

their hero just kind of, like,
wasn't a hero to them anymore.

I wore a dress everywhere,
with bad makeup,
without shaving.

I played homocore shows.
There was just part of me
that liked to say,

"I'm not trying to fit in.
I'm not trying to be
one of the crew,

"you know, one of the boys
in the pit."

My punk thing has
gone beyond that.

I'm the queerest person here.
I'm the weirdest person here.

* I hate myself

* I hate myself

At one point we thought
we would move to LA

because they had
a happening scene out there

and we thought maybe
we could be part of this,
you know, out there.

We did a little tour
out to the West Coast
and we stopped in LA

and we got out of the truck
on Hollywood and Vine and
looked around and we're like,

"Man, let's get the hell
out of here." We actually
went to San Francisco.

STEVE DePACE: There was
a handful of bands
in San Francisco

and a handful of bands in LA

and those were the bands
that started this whole thing.

The Mabuhay Gardens
was the clubhouse.

And everybody met at
the clubhouse every night,
seven nights a week.

And there was always
three bands playing.

We all knew each other,
and we all played
shows together,

and we were
the San Francisco scene.

There seemed to be two
approaches bands
would take in hardcore.

One was, "What is
the thing that the kids
are going to like,

"and how are they going to
respond positively
to our band,

"and what can we do
to make that happen?"

And then there was
the other school of thought,

which was just like,
"Fuck with the crowd,
get them pissed off."

(THE WAY OF THE WORLD PLAYING)

* There are eyes
that cannot see

* And fingers
that cannot touch

* That's the Way
of the World

* There are dreams left
empty and blank

* And legs that have
ceased to walk

* That's the Way
of the World *

We were known as the band
that you loved to hate.

The crowd hated us, really.
I mean, because we weren't
doing what fit the mold.

...really hated
about when punk rock
first started

and we were coming out
being so slow.

They thought we were, like,
a fucking target or something.

You know, "Oh, these guys
are..." You know.
I hated that at first.

Right in the face!
Fuck that shit!

I was reading an NME
where there was this
cat named Moby

who, um, claimed he had been
an original singer in Flipper,

at least according
to the article.
That's what it said.

I sang with Flipper when I was
16. 'Cause Will Shatter
had been thrown in jail.

I knew the lyrics
to all the songs,
so I said, "I'll..."

So for two days I was
Flipper's, you know,
half Bruce Loose and myself.

* Apartment walls,
halls are small

* Government building site
much too small

* These tiny boxes won't
let me out

* These tiny boxes are
too remote

* It's a screaming mess

* Not television's city dream

* Your robot's eyes gleam

* In my future dream

* Yeah, hey!

This is really weird.
They've got punk rock
in Canada.

Because people's impression
of Canada was like, well,

a lot of trees,
a lot of mountains,
a lot of snow, lumberjacks.

That kind of thing.
Snowmobiles.

And, like, how could they have
punk rock from there?

We had one big show up there.
It was us, Black Flag
and 7 Seconds.

And it was called
Hardcore '81.
So that was the first time

anybody really used that term.

They coined that term.
They started the music.

You know,
they were-- they were
phenomenal.

Musically phenomenal,
ideologically cool...
MULLIN: Yeah.

...and freaking Canadians!

(ELECTRIC GUITAR SOLOING)

There wasn't
a lot of small labels

when we started putting out
records, so there wasn't
much of a model for it.

SST had that quintessential

LA hardcore,
DIY aesthetic and ethic.

SST Records originally,

uh, stood for
Solid State Transmitters.

We had one storage place

and it was where
Greg's electronic stuff
was all thrown in.

And it was only $100 a month.

And it was one room
with a bathroom and a shower.

So we just took corners
of the floor in there.

CORBIN: I did all the mail
order business at the time,

so I actually slept
underneath my... You know,
my mail order stuff.

So, you know,
it was basically
just about work.

We got, um, $5 a day,
which we called "the dough,"

which we distributed to
everyone and that's,
basically, you would,

you know, this is what
you would buy your
food with, this $5.

There got to be a point
where, like, you'd have,
like, two quarters

and you'd go get a candy bar.

And you'd shop
at 7-Eleven, like, "Okay,
a Three Musketeers has like

"half a gram more
than a Snickers bar
does. Okay."

And you'd have to clean
the chocolate off your mouth,

'cause you'd walk
into SST and, like,

"You've got,
did you get food?"

And you're like, "Uh, yeah..."

I mean, we were broke!

ROESSLER: One day
I get a call from Henry

and he says, "Black Flag
is looking for a bass player,"

and I said, "That's cool."

You know, they were
my favorite band
at the time, you know.

Henry and I had had a little
thing and it was over,
and like I said,

when he called to say,
"Do you wanna play?"

He was very clear
there was not going
to be anything.

And I was like, "Yeah,
I get it, we're not
going to be anything."

So there was no...
That was explicitly stated,

which was fine, you know,
it was fine for both of us.

But I think there was
a moment when it got
a little uncomfortable

which was when I saw the cover
of the Slip It In record.

We had done our first
recording and I saw the cover
of the Slip It In record,

which was, in my opinion,
sort of

making fun of women
or putting women
in a certain place,

and I suddenly felt like...

"But..." You know what I mean?
It was like,
"What am I doing here?

"I mean, if you guys
hate women, why..."
You know what I mean?

It wasn't like,
"God damn it, how dare you?"

It was like, "But if you don't
like girls, why am I here?"
You know, it was like,

I felt inadequate because
I felt that that reflected
how they viewed women.

This is called
"Slip It In." Hey!

I never really noticed
that I was a girl and
everybody else was a guy.

Uh, there were actually
women in the scene.
They tended towards being

the, uh, record-keepers.
The women were
generally behind a camera

or they were running
a fanzine.

I'm going to say
that there weren't
a lot of women onstage,

but there were a good chunk
of women in the audience

and you got to
know each other
pretty quickly.

And you certainly
hung out with all the guys.

Nothing got you less respect
from these boys

than, you know,
showing your tits.

(LAUGHS) Which is not the case
nowadays, I don't think.

I think all those boys
would be happy
to see someone's tits.

MAN:
Take off your panties, now!

I want to see
some cunt in there.

Oh, the Nig Heist.

Well, the Nig Heist is a name
I came up with, squatting,
you know, on Hollywood Blvd.,

in rundown hotel rooms.

And one of my good friends
at the time was
a black guy and...

Eugene, and so, you know,
we smoked cigarettes,
and then he would

come up and steal
one of my cigarettes and
he would say, "Nig Heist."

Now, we are the Nig Heist
and we wanna
fuck your girlfriend.

Last night we played DC
and we had live sex
happen on stage.

This little skinhead about 14
let me stick my fucking cock
in his butt,

and it was tremendous.

You guys should give me
a hand for that, come on.

A nice big round of applause
for me sticking it into
a nice little skinhead's butt.

Mugger is an incredible guy.
Mugger's a runaway

who ends up being
a roadie for Black Flag.
Then the accountant for SST.

Then puts himself through
college, he's a CPA now.

It was all through working.

Greg and Chuck gave me
a 25% membership

in, uh, SST.

I wanted a certain type
of artist,

and we disagreed about that
and they basically
just bought me out.

I took all the money
that they gave me
and I invested in technology

and other types of ventures

that was very
productive for me.

And basically, you know,
I'm independently
wealthy at this time

from that investment,
from SST.
So, that's my story.

* People, let me tell you
'bout my best friend

* He's a warm-hearted person
who loved me till the end

* People, let me
tell you 'bout... *

The whole myth of California
being laid-back and mellow

is pretty laughable.

If you-- If you grew up
in the punk scene in Hollywood
in the early '80s,

it was anything but mellow.

It was violent, you know,
there was always a fight,
every night.

There was
some action going on.

Just every fucking night we
had to fucking throw down
with somebody, you know.

In 1980 I wanted to get
something together.

So I came up with, uh,
Los Angeles Death Squad.

Which is LADS.

There was LADS, there was FFF,
there was Circle One.

With Tom Macias,
rest in peace.

What are considered today
to be the punk rock gangs,

pretty much were gangs, um,

in the-- in the sense of
Crips, Bloods, White Fence,
things like that.

They weren't as well defined.
Um...

You know, they--they weren't
like little drug cartels,
or anything.

Nobody carried Uzis, you know.
It wasn't that type of a gang,

but it was definitely a social
clique of people who knew
each other, hung out,

and protected each other.

MAN: John Macias,
singer of Circle One,

who were contemporaries,
really, at the same time
as Suicidal Tendencies.

He had his gang, The Family.

Here he is just about to,
you know, to take one up
with this fellow here,

I mean,
you can see the fear
in this guy's eyes.

And I mean, this guy was
really scared. Rollins was
scared shitless of this guy.

* They'll turn up
if I run and hide

* They're looking for me
and I know why *

If a cop car drove by a
punk show, it was no big deal.

And if one or two drove by,
it was nothing.

But when six pull up and park,
it would always
turn into a riot.

If there was a small incident
they'd come on strong

and they'd look
to take control

with, you know,
30 or 40 squad cars
and a helicopter.

Hundreds of angry punk rockers
rioted in Huntington,
California Saturday.

The rioters were angered at
the overbooking of a suburban
Los Angeles concert hall

designed to accommodate
450 people.

As many as 200 people
were turned away
from the hall.

The punk rock fans
went on an hour-long rampage.

The rioters
are reported to have done
$25,000 damage to businesses

and a church before
officers managed
to quell the disturbance.

Forty-one people, most of them
juveniles, were arrested
and 10 law officers were hurt.

The cops always started it.

It's not like a bunch of kids
go up to armed, uniformed men
and go, "Come on!"

They know what happens.

The cop... I mean,
they would try
and pull me into it.

I'll never forget
some LA storm trooper cop
walking up to me and saying,

"Did you just call me
a motherfucker?"

I'm like, "Oh," I was
trembling, because
I just know that the guy,

cat and mouse, the guy
can take me into jail
any time he wants,

(STAMMERING)
and I was like...
And he's like, you know,

"What's the matter,
you a fucking faggot?"
I'm like, "No."

I'm like... This is a cop.
I don't know what to do.

MAN: Cops would just march in
and just shut the show down.

They would literally
form a line
at the front of the stage,

I remember seeing kids lying
on the floor that had already
been beaten up so badly

they couldn't move,
and I could just remember
cops standing over them

swinging their batons,
beating the hell out of them.

I mean, this was years
before Rodney King.

People were trying
to walk to their cars,
they would beat you.

And try and chase
you down the street.

They'd smash...
People were driving,
they'd bust the window,

and grab them out of the car
and start beating them.
It was like a war.

It was an ass-kicking.
Lining up and then wading
into kids and beating them.

It was fucked up.
It was so fucked up.

Our crime was that
we seemed different.

And I think
a police mentality

or you know,
ultra-establishment mentality

is to stamp out
something that's different.

You don't analyze it and
look at why it's different,
you just stamp it out.

I, Ronald Reagan,
do solemnly swear...

I, Ronald Reagan,
do solemnly swear...

...that I will faithfully
execute...

...that I will faithfully
execute...

...the office of President
of the United States.

...the office of President
of the United States.

And will
to the best of my ability...

And will
to the best of my ability...

...preserve,
protect and defend...

...preserve,
protect and defend...

...the Constitution
of the United States.

...the Constitution
of the United States.

So help you God.

So help me God.

DICTOR: When Reagan
won the first time was
almost like unbelievable.

Something could be...
How could this be?

Then the second time he won,
it was very disillusioning
for myself.

Those first four years
of punk rock for me,
'80 to '84, was all this hope,

and then after that,
it got cynical,
and punk rock fragmented

into many, many,
many different scenes.

A lot of the people
who had started
this local music scene

in 1979 and '80, had become
a little bit disillusioned.

You know,
the baby was no longer cute.

'85, '86 was a total decline
of the punk rock scene.

And then everybody who started
the scenes all left it,
one by one by one by one.

I came in in August of '81.

And I'd say
by the end of '85,

it was over.

These people were
not like sheep.

They were not like
heavy metal sheep
that would go see their band,

their spandex-pants band,
over and over again.

If you...
They could turn on you.

And chances are,
in the three-year period
that you're into it,

they are going to get
disinterested.

Or your time was up,
whichever is first.

So basically, the time was up.

You might think like,
"Well, yeah, but you really
checked out on hardcore."

I never fucking checked out.
Hardcore checked out, not me.

For me,
the violence was stupid.
It just became stupid

and I saw my own role
in the stupidity.

In 1984, I remember
it was a Minutemen show,

it was the last time
I've punched somebody.

A guy hit my brother
and I punched him
and I thought,

"That's the end of that.
I'm done."

And I just didn't...
I felt like the violence
had become too central.

And it was clearly
alienating to most people.

It was ridiculous.
So I thought like,
"I'm out. I'm out of this."

And a lot of my friends
were out of it, too.
They were like,

"We're just not...
This sucks." It was a bummer.

I think that was kind of
the end

of that era of hardcore.

(PLAYING GIMME GIMME GIMME)

* Gimme gimme gimme
I need some more

* Gimme gimme gimme
Don't ask what for

* Sitting here
like a loaded gun
waiting to go off

* I've got nothing to do
but shoot my mouth off

* Gimme gimme gimme
Give me some more

* Gimme gimme gimme
Don't ask what for *

The last-ever Black Flag show
that I acknowledge

happened in 1986 in Detroit
at Graystone, it's a hall.

Weeks later, I'm in DC
visiting friends and family,

and Greg called me
at my mom's house,

where I was kind of
camping out, and he said,

"I'm just calling to tell you
that I quit Black Flag."

I go, "But it's your band."

He goes, "Well, I quit."
I went, "Okay."

And that was it.

I decided in 1986,
it's like, "You know,
it's a good time to stop now."

Black Flag was left without

the culture around it.

It was back to
where we started.

* I love, I love I Jah

* I love, I love I Jah

* I love, I love I Jah

The Bad Brains,
who had also recently
become Rastafarians, uh,

hit their spiritual crisis.

It's like, "Are we going to
be real Rastafarians
and play reggae music,

"or are we gonna

"follow out what we've been
doing for the past few years,

"this--this incredible style
of music that we've created.

"Are we gonna swing with it?"

And I don't think
they ever really
answered that question.

And all of a sudden
there'd be these four dudes
up there playing reggae.

And I just remember a couple
of times just being like,
"You know, that's cool

"but it's not what I paid for
and I'm done with it,
you know."

The Bad Brains, kind of,
to me got pigeonholed
as that fireplug band

that you can never trust them,

you know what I mean?
You can't do shows with them,

and so on and so on and so on.
And all the horror stories.

And you know,
it's just once
you disappoint people,

especially people
that are really
short-attention-span people,

then you're kind of
at a loss for words.

The thing that hangs
over the band is, is, uh,

is it has to do with HR,
who he is,

and his vision and his ability
to be as deep as he is

and to be as engaging as
he is, and also there is
a personal element to that,

that's totally
self destructive. He's like
a Crowleyan character.

He's a real character
in his generation.
He's a real somebody.

He's a myth. He's a living
legend. And he is.
And he thinks that way.

I love the guy, you know.

I've seen him mess up
a lot of deals.

You know, this band really
could have been out there,

but, uh, I kind of understand
his conflict.

The first wave
of Boston hardcore

as, um, like, the foundations,

and the structure
of the house...

And then all of a sudden,
like '84 or '85,

all of us started putting
pretty weird curtains
on the house.

And like, you know,

it--it gave the house
a little bit of a
different look.

The name of the band is DYS.
We've been together
for about three years.

And we used to be
a hardcore punk rock band,

now just a hard
rock 'n' roll band.

So next year Gang Green is
on Roadrunner Records.

They've got a new record
coming out, You Got It,

and it has a crossover
sound into metal,

and you know Gang Green's
is a big rock band

and they're going to get
this big skateboard staging

and they bought the amps
from Megadeth you know.

They bought like 18 cabinets
from Megadeth,

you know,
and six of them work.

But you wanted this big thing
and Gang Green was going to be

this big, rock, skateboard,
you know, entity.

Which they should be,
which they are, they're great.

It was like Spinal Tap,
it was hilarious.

I think we used the whole set
once on the tour.

But we carried it, you know.

We played in LA,
and there was a kid
kneeling on the stage

with his shirt off
and he was... Tears were
pouring down his face,

and he was going,
"Play something fast.
Play something fast, please!"

And, like, people
were hurling shit at us.
And it was, you know,

it was obvious that, you know,
the love affair was over.

'84, '85, was really when...

New York,
being the--the late bloomers
of hardcore,

was when New York finally
got a voice of their own.

* Don't tread on me

* Don't tread on me

* Don't tread on me

* Don't tread on me

What the Cro-Mags did was, uh,

present that Bad Brains
approach,

uh, through the lifestyle

of the streets
of--of New York, you know.

And that's where the tattoos
and the rough edge come from.

I mean, they--they
were street kids, basically.

People try to often give
Cro-Mags credit for being
a definitive hardcore band,

and, you know,
I graciously accept that,
but I don't 100% agree.

In a way we were,
and in a way
we weren't, because

as far as I'm concerned,
the Cro-Mags really

came to be towards the end
of the first wave of hardcore.

So, in a way,
we kind of wrapped

all the most powerful aspects
of all of those early years.

Hardcore, definitely,
it was like a pebble
that had a ripple effect.

But ironically,
it never got recognized

by, um, by like mainstream...
By the mainstream world.
But it influenced it.

You always say, "I wish
I knew now what I knew then."
But not in this instance.

Because, like, it was so
groundbreaking, it was so new
and fresh, you know.

And like, and when it ended,
it just fucking kind of went
like... It just ended.

Like one day it was like
they turned the TV set off

and, like,
you kind of just, you know,
walked through another door

and that door was never,
ever, ever going to be
opened again.

SCIARAPPA:
It was incredibly radical.

It was unbelievably exciting.
It was right from the start,
super important.

Even though no one else
in the world thought
it was important,

you sort of knew it was as
important as any other musical
movement that was going on.

And this was at a young age,
you know, that you got
a grip on, that this was it.

You know, we didn't really
think we were going to
overthrow the world.

It wasn't like the hippies
thinking they were going
to levitate the Pentagon.

Or we certainly didn't
think that we were going to
get Reagan out of office

or anything like that.

But you know, for what we were
it was kind of
a united little scene.

What we did was great.

Not like I'm saying
it was qualitatively great,
that we were great.

What it was, was great.

What all of the bands did.
New York, DC,
you know, Detroit,

Chicago, you know,
LA obviously,

you know, San Diego,
OC, you know,
all those scenes.

It was great and it was
hard to do but everybody
accomplished a lot,

considering the odds
were stacked against them
so heavily

in a music and political
and social world.

There wasn't
any organized Left in
the United States in the '80s.

There was hardcore.

And again, you know,
as limited as it was

it was a manifestation
of a communalist aspect,

of, uh, openness to humanity,
of a disdain for authority,

that's-- that's in the best
traditions of radicalism.

So, if you're looking
for radicalism in the 1980s,
you should look at hardcore.

There'll be another musical
revolution, and it will be
intense and energetic

and the kids will
go nuts over it,
but it won't be hardcore.

I think every generation
has their own way of, uh,
expressing themselves,

and each version of punk rock,

whether it be, you know,
spiky green mohawks

or, um, you know,
berets and cigarettes

such as the Beats
during the '50s,
or hippies in the '60s,

each version of this kind of
expression will continue
to manifest itself,

probably every 15 or 20 years
with every new generation.

Thank God.

It was a great, wonderful,
almost innocent time.

And it's such a sad reflection
what I see going on now
with punk rock.

But that's just because
I'm jealous 'cause they're all
young and having all the fun.

I'm old and bitter. Broken.

We looked forward to going
on the road because
at least we got hospitality

and we got fed

and we got to do shows
and have a great time, but it
wasn't none of this shit,

all these fucking, like,
spoiled little fucking brats
that are on MTV

now with their fucking buses
and all this bullshit,

and they're calling
that shit punk.
That ain't fucking punk.

You know, they're
driving their fucking tour bus

on the highway
that--that we paved.

I will actually be the first
punk, or whatever, person
that says, "Punk is dead!"

It was over a long time ago.
It's over, okay?

Go home. Your cage is clean.

(NERVOUS BREAKDOW PLAYING)

* I'm about to have
a nervous breakdown

* My head really hurts

* If I don't find
a way out of here

* I'm gonna go berserk 'cause

* I'm crazy and I'm hurt

* Head on my shoulders

* It's going... Berserk!

* I hear the same old
talk talk talk
The same old lines

* Don't do me that today

* Yeah, if you know
what's good for you,
you'll get out of my way

* 'Cause I'm crazy
and I'm hurt

* Head on my shoulders

* Going... Berserk!

* I won't apologize

* For acting out of line

* You see the way I am

* You leave
anytime you can 'cause

* I'm crazy and I'm hurt

* Head on my shoulders

* Going... Berserk!

* Crazy! Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!

* I don't care
what you fuckin' do!

* I don't care
what you fuckin' say!

* I'm so sick of everything

* I just want to... Die!

(HA HA PLAYING)

* Isn't life a blast?

* It's just like living
in the past

* We go downtown
to do our shopping

* And we work in Suburbia

* But I say

* Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

* He he he he he he he
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

* Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

* He he he he he he he
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

* "What is there to do?"
she said

* He said, "Come on, baby,
and I'll show you a good time"

* So they went on down
to one of those cheap motels

* And they got
all gushy and wet
Well, I say

* Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

* He he he he he he he
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

* Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

* He he he he he he he
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

* And I say
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

* He he he he he he he
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

* Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

* He he he he he he he
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha *