Some things just don’t sound right. One doesn’t usually associate 50-year olds and punk rock. (One could break a hip.) But if the crowd at the Crystal Ballroom last night was any indication, we’re not ready to cough up cobwebs and fart dust just yet.
LA punks X came to town last night. I’ve managed to see them every decade since the 80s. The first time, they were the opening act for Warren Zevon. While I questioned coupling a punk act with a “classic” rocker, my trepidations quickly evaporated. The lead singer (male) was sporting a cowboy hat; the other lead singer (female) was kinda chubby and wearing a muu-muu. As the show progressed, we found out she was about eight months pregnant. (With Viggo Mortensen’s kid. Who?) Anthems like Ain’t None of your Goddamn Business and songs about hunting birds with steel-toed boots had me howling with laughter. When was the last time you could understand more than a smattering of lyrical content at a punk show?
I saw them again in the late 90s. A drunken, magical show where things happened to me that adolescent boys dream about. And no, I’m not sharing that story here.
Last night’s show was a sober affair. (Zallright, my choice.) The problem with seeing shows in bar venues is that it takes forever for the goddamn shows to start. I arrived an hour after doors opened, and still had a two-hour wait until the band came on. Steve Soto, the opening act, was a country/rockabilly outfit that complimented X’s style. I watched the crowd fill in. It was an all-ages show, so I stayed in the kiddie pool. In front of me, separate from each other, were an eight-year-old in a Ramones tee shirt and a man that looked like George Bush Sr in a ballcap.
The best part about an X show? The women. (Purely personal observation there.) I hate going to concerts that are sausage-fests, (cough *Zappa tributes* cough) and X shows bring a 50/50 gender ratio. It was fun watching the multi-generational interactions. The Crystal sucks if you want to sit down at any point during the night, but I found a spot amongst the wallflowers. Two teenage girls made a space for me, since I had hours of time to kill in a bar without drinking. A few minutes later they were joined by middle-aged office types, whose eyes hissed at me for sitting by what I assume to be their daughters. They muttered something I couldn’t hear, and left me with their daughters while they went to the gr’umps area for booze.
The daughters were replaced by two ladies who appeared to be in their late 20s or early 30s. We exchanged pleasantries, made deals to save seats during bathroom breaks, etc… Bad backs, bad knees. We sounded like mosh pit veterans, but I think the issues were more wear-and-tear related. Since I had the height advantage, I let them stand behind me on the bench. I offered them a shoulder to grab onto if they started to fall. (I don’t mind being a landing pad in some situations.) I asked if they’d seen the band before, and the friendlier one said, “Yes, in 1981.”
“What were you, three?”
Just after ten, Billy Zoom walked onstage. The golden locks have silvered, but he looked good. DJ Bonebrake (best drummer name ever) snuck in behind the kit, but the crowd really came to life when Exene and John Doe took to the right hand side of the stage.
Exene, when not fronting for a punk band, is deeply involved with the Los Angeles school system; libraries I believe. (I might have spent more time in school with teachers like her.) Her reddish pink hair nodded to the earlier times, but she could just as easily have worked in a bank. Until she opened her mouth, that is. Fifty year old women shouldn’t have that kind of balls, but I love it when they do.
John Doe looks the same as he did twenty years ago, which is a back-handed compliment. He looked haggard in his early years. I’m guessing he has found peace with his inner demons, and it suits him well. He brandished the bass like a rifle with bayonet, out of necessity at times. There was a lot of stage-diving going on, and the poor stage manager took a few hard shots keeping the peace. One fellow took a whippin’ from the looks of him as he was escorted out. The stage manager ‘rubbed some dirt on it,’ took a swig of beer and resumed bobbing his head. One stage diver who got away with it? A brightly-dressed teenage girl got onstage and gave Exene a hug. Exene waved security off, Stage Manager shrugged, and the show went on.
The set list was voted on by fans, and Mr Doe got quite the laugh when he announced the request winner. “I’ve heard Oregon is the meth capital of the country. This doesn’t bode well for you, Portland.” Then they tore into Johnny Hit and Run Pauline. New World got a big response, especially after thanking the crowd “for voting. Now, and last November.”
My favorite moment was the first encore. John and Exene came back, and with just John on acoustic guitar, they sang See How We Are. That song has always been a puddle-maker, and while no bawling ensued, I did get sorta boo-boo faced. I wanted to shout “I love you Exene!” but some drunk guy stepped on my toe and brought me back to reality.
Today, my knees hurt. The last two times I saw X I had such horrendous hangovers I’d preplanned and took the day off work. No need today. No hangover today, either.
Exene is as MILFy as ever.
John Doe hasn’t lost a beat, and is still adept at dodging moshers.
Mr Bonebrake? Stay young forever.
And Mister Billy Zoom. Did you have your sweat glands removed? He’s got to be the smoothest, suavest lead guitarist ever. He’s got a nice smile.
So do I, thanks to you all.
See how we are?
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I was just listening to some of “Los Angeles” on my iPod today….and also saw John Doe in the movie “Sugar Town” last night…..great actor and definitely a great band. Next time I’m going with you…
It was a great show. Excellent interview with the band here: http://podcast.kufo.com/kufo2/1687833.mp3
If you haven’t seen them, do so. (They’re playing Coachella.) I also recommend the album “Live at the Whiskey a Go-Go on the Fabulous Sunset strip.” It captures the essence of their live shows.
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