Henry Rollins and Black Flag
at Club 950
December 11, 1981
Photo by Ken Mierzwa,
copyright © 2003-2006
at Club 950
December 11, 1981
Photo by Ken Mierzwa,
copyright © 2003-2006
Late 1981
November and December included a number of hard core acts. First though, there was an appearance by former New York Dolls member David Johansen. It was actually a surprisingly tame performance, and I didn't bother to write anything about it.Then something totally different - Blurt, a quasi-industrial band with a single titled "the fish needs a bike." Funny, but it didn't hold my attention for very long. They were followed by the Effigies, by this time Chicago's premier hard core band. Musically they were tight, and although as fast as anyone, the lyrics were actually understandable. One of the band members had gone to high school with my younger brother, who never had understood any of this.
In early December I took a brief interlude to photograph three of the bartenders; first Rose, in an empty apartment off Clybourn Avenue, and then Veronica and Andrea in the studio. More and more frequently, I was documenting not just the bands, but the people around them.
On December 11, Black Flag played Club 950, on Wrightwood Avenue just off of Lincoln Avenue. My review follows, exactly as it was published in CR:
The place is packed - the people near the stage are jammed too close together to slam, and instead are pushing and shoving toward the stage. Those who are further back stand in one place, watching in studied indifference, and a few people still sit at the bar attempting to carry on a conversation or make a pickup. They soon revert to their drink because it's much too loud to hear what anyone is saying. The band is ... well, predictable. The energy is contagious, the music itself seems secondary; merely a means to an end. The boundary between stage and audience has dissolved, as band members attack the crowd and fans run, fall, or are pushed onto the stage.There I go again, interjecting social commentary into a music fanzine.
Something seems different, though; when I saw this band last winter at Oz, the crowd was even more uncontrollable (although much smaller), but they were spontaneous, and the mock-violence in front of the band was simply an expression of frustration with everyday life in a world that seemed beyond control. And besides, at 5:30 am everyone was too drunk or tired to care what anyone else thought.
Yes, tonight is different; a few of these people were at last years show, but mostly these are new faces, punked-out, but in a stylized way, pre-planned, image conscious. Their actions are the same way; a few people are being very careful to make their leaps onto the stage when my camera is pointed in their direction.
Later conversations with some of the people in the crowd only strengthen my earlier impressions. Many of these people are only thrill seekers. They haven't got a clue what this is all about.
There is a big difference between the harmless slamming that occurs at most hard-core shows, and the willful violence that is often inspired by some of the west coast bands. Other writers have tried to defend and justify the carefully aimed elbows, occasional fistfights, and other acts of thinly vieled machismo that occur at some Black Flag shows; anyone that takes that viewpoint is part of the problem, and has no business complaining about the condition of society until they open up their pitiful little minds and get their own priorities straight. They are merely acting as a powerless accomplice to the short-sighted and self-serving politicians who are so good at defending and justifying senseless wars.
The guy next to you on the dance floor already knows something is wrong. Write your congressman a letter instead.
Right around the new year - I think in very early January - Tuxedo Moon and Ministry appeared at Misfits. I've briefly mentioned both bands before. Tuxedo Moon, a San Francisco duo utilizing various keyboards, synthesizers, and the occasional guitar, had put out their classic "Half Mute" album a while back, then a follow-up. They were always enjoyable.
Ministry, a local outfit, had formed in late 1981. At Al Jourgensen's request, I did their first promo photos at the Space Place rehearsal studios sometime in the fall. This was one of their early performances. For Al, it was a total change of musical direction. But the electronic dance music formula worked, at least for selling records. A few years later they could be heard on TV Budweiser commercials.
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Kenneth S. Mierzwa shadowplay2@mac.com
February 5, 2003 - Updated: March 27, 2006
February 5, 2003 - Updated: March 27, 2006