November 28, 2012
MY BEDROOM WALLS  TACOMA 1982 I don’t know why but I remember that at the moment this photo was snapped I was play-menacing our house cat, a cat whose name escapes me now.  I mention this because that same cat would later take a voluminous piss in the middle of a huge stack of my Punk flyers when I was in the process of rearranging my walls one weekend in 1982. This incident ruined half of them, sending them to the trash heap of history. I am glad I have this photo so that the image of some of those dead flyers can live on. After I discovered the pool in the middle of my precious paper I wanted to drop kick that cat but it was probably curled up on my lap the next day. What are ya gonna do, ya know? As this photo suggests, I was a voracious collector of flyers in my Punk Rock youth. After moving to San Diego in 83 I also gained something of a reputation as a flyer artist myself. You can search the archives of this blog for evidence of my artistic contributions to the So Cal Punk aesthetic of the 80’s if you’d like to take a look. When I was a kid I combed the streets and studied every telephone pole of Seattle for any Punk or Punk-like flyer I could find. I was also very forward about ingratiating myself with the jaded record store employees of University Ave. in an effort to get a hold of any posters like the ones I’d see hanging on the walls of the shops I visited every weekend. I still have that Dead Kennedys In God We Trust, Inc. poster you see behind me rolled up in a tube somewhere. The other major source for amassing wall art was my compulsive pen pal and mailorder activities in that era. Half the time I received a letter from a kid in Detroit, LA, Texas or wherever there were flyers stuffed in the envelope too. The backs of show flyers were often themselves used as stationary. The people who ran my favorite record labels like Touch and Go, Dischord, and many, many more were also really just a little older than kids themselves and they were almost always responsive when I asked if they could throw in some local flyers with my record order. I remember being particularly jazzed when Jeff Nelson from Minor Threat sent me that beautiful three color mini poster from the band’s Wilson Center show with Government Issue. That’s another one I still have around somewhere. It’s down in the left hand corner of the photo. One other thing I want to mention is my Motorhead shirt. I loved that shirt. It’s funny to think back now from the vantage point of our hyper merchandised, consumer minded era but back in the early 80’s most Hardcore and Punk bands didn’t even sell t-shirts or anything at shows as far as I remember. Bands like Black Flag just set up, played, packed up and left. It wasn’t until around 84 that bands really got into the apparel business. Back in 81/82 you kinda had to look to the metal side of things to hit screen print gold.  How times change. (Photo of me in my room in Tacoma, WA. 1982 from my personal archives)

MY BEDROOM WALLS  TACOMA 1982

I don’t know why but I remember that at the moment this photo was snapped I was play-menacing our house cat, a cat whose name escapes me now. 

I mention this because that same cat would later take a voluminous piss in the middle of a huge stack of my Punk flyers when I was in the process of rearranging my walls one weekend in 1982. This incident ruined half of them, sending them to the trash heap of history. I am glad I have this photo so that the image of some of those dead flyers can live on. After I discovered the pool in the middle of my precious paper I wanted to drop kick that cat but it was probably curled up on my lap the next day. What are ya gonna do, ya know?

As this photo suggests, I was a voracious collector of flyers in my Punk Rock youth. After moving to San Diego in 83 I also gained something of a reputation as a flyer artist myself. You can search the archives of this blog for evidence of my artistic contributions to the So Cal Punk aesthetic of the 80’s if you’d like to take a look.

When I was a kid I combed the streets and studied every telephone pole of Seattle for any Punk or Punk-like flyer I could find. I was also very forward about ingratiating myself with the jaded record store employees of University Ave. in an effort to get a hold of any posters like the ones I’d see hanging on the walls of the shops I visited every weekend. I still have that Dead Kennedys In God We Trust, Inc. poster you see behind me rolled up in a tube somewhere.

The other major source for amassing wall art was my compulsive pen pal and mailorder activities in that era. Half the time I received a letter from a kid in Detroit, LA, Texas or wherever there were flyers stuffed in the envelope too. The backs of show flyers were often themselves used as stationary. The people who ran my favorite record labels like Touch and Go, Dischord, and many, many more were also really just a little older than kids themselves and they were almost always responsive when I asked if they could throw in some local flyers with my record order.

I remember being particularly jazzed when Jeff Nelson from Minor Threat sent me that beautiful three color mini poster from the band’s Wilson Center show with Government Issue. That’s another one I still have around somewhere. It’s down in the left hand corner of the photo.

One other thing I want to mention is my Motorhead shirt. I loved that shirt. It’s funny to think back now from the vantage point of our hyper merchandised, consumer minded era but back in the early 80’s most Hardcore and Punk bands didn’t even sell t-shirts or anything at shows as far as I remember. Bands like Black Flag just set up, played, packed up and left. It wasn’t until around 84 that bands really got into the apparel business. Back in 81/82 you kinda had to look to the metal side of things to hit screen print gold. 

How times change.

(Photo of me in my room in Tacoma, WA. 1982 from my personal archives)

8:28am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zl8DhvYE2QPO
(Notes: 35)
  
Filed under: 1982 Minor Threat appendix black flag circle jerks crucifix dead kennedys descendents dischord doa hardcore metal motorhead punk rock n roll san diego seattle shawn kerri tacoma tsol vandals wasted youth misfits 
July 3, 2012
MAURO FROM RAW POWER AND JELLO BIAFRA AT A PARTY   SAN DIEGO 1984 This is a little bonus blog entry to tack onto the one that preceded it. I don’t remember who took this picture, I’m pretty sure I didn’t but I was there when it was taken. Like I said in the other post this was the second time I met Biafra who I’d end up working for at Alternative Tentacles a few years later in the decade.  I’m pretty sure Biafra’s leg got fudged up on stage in L.A. at the Olympic by some over eager stage diver. The venue was notorious for having a ridiculously porous stage policy that would often lead to the bands being almost totally lost in the crowd jumping, stage diving and slamming all around them on stage. I remember it was weird seeing him do the show in San Diego perched on a stool with his leg out straight in front of him, doing his trademark hand gestures and stuff. He still rocked and the kids went crazy of course. That night though really belonged to Raw Power. Hardly anyone had heard of them and they simply blew the SD crowd away with their relentless attack. They were unstoppable and the hard-headed SD punks loved them for it. SD Punks of a certain age take note of the Personal Conflict shirt in the other room! (Photo of Mauro and Jello from my personal archives)

MAURO FROM RAW POWER AND JELLO BIAFRA AT A PARTY   SAN DIEGO 1984


This is a little bonus blog entry to tack onto the one that preceded it.

I don’t remember who took this picture, I’m pretty sure I didn’t but I was there when it was taken. Like I said in the other post this was the second time I met Biafra who I’d end up working for at Alternative Tentacles a few years later in the decade. 

I’m pretty sure Biafra’s leg got fudged up on stage in L.A. at the Olympic by some over eager stage diver. The venue was notorious for having a ridiculously porous stage policy that would often lead to the bands being almost totally lost in the crowd jumping, stage diving and slamming all around them on stage.

I remember it was weird seeing him do the show in San Diego perched on a stool with his leg out straight in front of him, doing his trademark hand gestures and stuff. He still rocked and the kids went crazy of course. That night though really belonged to Raw Power. Hardly anyone had heard of them and they simply blew the SD crowd away with their relentless attack. They were unstoppable and the hard-headed SD punks loved them for it.

SD Punks of a certain age take note of the Personal Conflict shirt in the other room!

(Photo of Mauro and Jello from my personal archives)

12:33am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zl8DhvOc3hS8
(Notes: 28)
  
Filed under: Dead Kennedys Jello Biafra Mauro Codeluppi Raw Power alternative tentacles olympic auditorium san diego tim maze personal conflict 
July 2, 2012
MARTA, GAVIN, ME and RAW POWER AT THE BEACH   SAN DIEGO 1984 Life’s a beach. In 1984 there was a big international punk show held at The Olympic Auditorium in LA that featured headliners Dead Kennedys with BGK from Holland, Riistetyt from Finland, Italy’s Raw Power and Tijuana Punks Solucion Mortal rounding out the bill. The same line up, minus BGK I believe, played in San Diego the next weekend at the Adams Ave Theater. I was a high school kid living in San Diego at the time and would’ve been way stoked for this bill even if I hadn’t been asked earlier in the month by Chris BCT to host one of the bands during their stay in SD. Chris was a big booster of the international hardcore scene and was involved somehow in putting these shows together. I asked my mom if she’d let a band stay with us a couple nights and, if you follow my blog at all you know how cool she is now and was then, she said yes.  My friends and I went up to the LA show, and went backstage with Chris to meet Riistetyt the band I’d agreed to host. They were complete douches. They were no longer a hardcore band, they were now a glam rock band in the Finnish tradition of Hanoi Rocks . Along with their now crappy music they brought a crappy dismissive, drunky, druggy, rockstar attitude. I wasn’t going to let these guys into my mom’s world. No way, no how. The dressing room next door was a whole other scene, even though only one of them spoke English, the guys in Raw Power were as warm and down to earth a bunch of guys as you could hope to meet. They were not only super friendly, they also played a brand of anarcho-metallic hardcore that was blisteringly manic and totally intense. These were the dudes I wanted to hang with. Hang with them I did. On a side note: I also met Jello Biafra, the man I’d work for four years later, in the Raw Power dressing room. It’s funny to recall being a little star-struck at the time considering how well I came to know the guy in future days!  To make a long story short, my mom, my brother and I ended up hosting Raw Power for over a week! The couple of days got stretched out to over a week because after the SD show a couple of the Italians went down to Tijuana to party with Luis and Solucion Mortal, which was a big mistake because some of their papers were still in NYC with a woman who’d helped get them to the states. Even though this was pre-9/11 America, the border was still the border and a couple shaggy mediterranean looking guys, with the wrong papers, who didn’t speak English weren’t getting back into SD unless they were ready to hop the fence…which the TJ punks offered to help them do by the way. After discussing the options, they decided to wait for the papers to be sent express from the East Coast instead of trying to get across illegally and potentially be barred from the US forever. It turned out okay, mom and the guys made tons of spaghetti, we got to know the folks at the gelato place in the neighborhood, and we went to the beach almost everyday. This photo was taken at Pacific Beach I believe. I remember when Fabiano and Davide finally got back from Mexico to mom’s house and the company of their tanned, well-fed and rested bandmates they were rough around the edges and suffering from some gastric distress. Davide clutched his stomach and said “San Diego…very good…Tijuana…not so nice!” My mom and I were sad to learn ten years ago that guitarist Guiseppe Codeluppi had a heart attack and died. He was a nice guy. …oh yeah, I’m sorry to say the guy in SD who ended up hosting Riistetyt after the show was stuck with a huge bill for a bunch of international phone calls they made while he was at work. I always felt bad about that, but hey, I got first pick what can I say? R.I.P. Guiseppe Codeluppi (Pictured L to R: Mauro Codeluppi, Guiseppe Codeluppi, Maurizio Dodi, Marta Brandes, myself, my brother Gavin Traeger. Polaroid from my personal archives)

MARTA, GAVIN, ME and RAW POWER AT THE BEACH   SAN DIEGO 1984

Life’s a beach.

In 1984 there was a big international punk show held at The Olympic Auditorium in LA that featured headliners Dead Kennedys with BGK from Holland, Riistetyt from Finland, Italy’s Raw Power and Tijuana Punks Solucion Mortal rounding out the bill. The same line up, minus BGK I believe, played in San Diego the next weekend at the Adams Ave Theater.

I was a high school kid living in San Diego at the time and would’ve been way stoked for this bill even if I hadn’t been asked earlier in the month by Chris BCT to host one of the bands during their stay in SD. Chris was a big booster of the international hardcore scene and was involved somehow in putting these shows together. I asked my mom if she’d let a band stay with us a couple nights and, if you follow my blog at all you know how cool she is now and was then, she said yes. 

My friends and I went up to the LA show, and went backstage with Chris to meet Riistetyt the band I’d agreed to host. They were complete douches. They were no longer a hardcore band, they were now a glam rock band in the Finnish tradition of Hanoi Rocks . Along with their now crappy music they brought a crappy dismissive, drunky, druggy, rockstar attitude. I wasn’t going to let these guys into my mom’s world. No way, no how.

The dressing room next door was a whole other scene, even though only one of them spoke English, the guys in Raw Power were as warm and down to earth a bunch of guys as you could hope to meet. They were not only super friendly, they also played a brand of anarcho-metallic hardcore that was blisteringly manic and totally intense. These were the dudes I wanted to hang with. Hang with them I did.

On a side note: I also met Jello Biafra, the man I’d work for four years later, in the Raw Power dressing room. It’s funny to recall being a little star-struck at the time considering how well I came to know the guy in future days! 

To make a long story short, my mom, my brother and I ended up hosting Raw Power for over a week! The couple of days got stretched out to over a week because after the SD show a couple of the Italians went down to Tijuana to party with Luis and Solucion Mortal, which was a big mistake because some of their papers were still in NYC with a woman who’d helped get them to the states. Even though this was pre-9/11 America, the border was still the border and a couple shaggy mediterranean looking guys, with the wrong papers, who didn’t speak English weren’t getting back into SD unless they were ready to hop the fence…which the TJ punks offered to help them do by the way.

After discussing the options, they decided to wait for the papers to be sent express from the East Coast instead of trying to get across illegally and potentially be barred from the US forever. It turned out okay, mom and the guys made tons of spaghetti, we got to know the folks at the gelato place in the neighborhood, and we went to the beach almost everyday. This photo was taken at Pacific Beach I believe.

I remember when Fabiano and Davide finally got back from Mexico to mom’s house and the company of their tanned, well-fed and rested bandmates they were rough around the edges and suffering from some gastric distress. Davide clutched his stomach and said “San Diego…very good…Tijuana…not so nice!”

My mom and I were sad to learn ten years ago that guitarist Guiseppe Codeluppi had a heart attack and died. He was a nice guy.

…oh yeah, I’m sorry to say the guy in SD who ended up hosting Riistetyt after the show was stuck with a huge bill for a bunch of international phone calls they made while he was at work. I always felt bad about that, but hey, I got first pick what can I say?

R.I.P. Guiseppe Codeluppi

(Pictured L to R: Mauro Codeluppi, Guiseppe Codeluppi, Maurizio Dodi, Marta Brandes, myself, my brother Gavin Traeger. Polaroid from my personal archives)

3:25pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zl8DhvOa5gZJ
(Notes: 3)
  
Filed under: raw power dead kennedys bgk solucion mortal mexico tijuana LA jello biafra bad compilation tapes 
March 23, 2012
SEATTLE PUNK: ASHBY 1982 I got wind of punk rock when I was 11 or 12 in 1980-81. I saw my first handful of shows when I was 13 in 1982. I split my time between my dad’s house in the suburbs north of Seattle and my mom’s house in Tacoma. Whenever I could I would make my way to University Avenue to hang out, go to record stores and meet other punks/freaks.  Since I was very young and the world of punk was so mysterious, totally underground, and more than a little bit edgy, even dangerous, pretty much everybody I met was older, more experienced. and wiser about the streets and world than me. This dynamic between myself and my new acquaintances made them all seem impossibly sophisticated, interesting and cool. Most of them smoked, drank, and did drugs. Some of them were homeless street kids and even hustlers. Some were kids more like me from homes of various levels of disintegration and harmony who were into aggressive, intense music, had a personal style with some flair, were looking for something exciting to call their own. and had found it in punk rock. Ashby, pictured here about to stage dive at the Eagles Hippodrome was one of the kids I thought was especially cool. He probably barely noticed me hanging around. He was at every show I went to, was always on The Ave. too. He wore a trench coat, army surplus spats over his combat boots, had a shaved head, wore a beret sometimes and seemed to know everyone in the scene. He was probably only three or four years older than I was but that made a lot of difference at the time.  The guy over Ashby’s shoulder is Jello Biafra of Dead Kennedys who, it just so happens, would be my employer in S.F. about five years after this shot was taken. Small world huh? I’ll write about more of these “older, wiser” characters in future posts. Photo by Mike Leach

SEATTLE PUNK: ASHBY 1982

I got wind of punk rock when I was 11 or 12 in 1980-81. I saw my first handful of shows when I was 13 in 1982. I split my time between my dad’s house in the suburbs north of Seattle and my mom’s house in Tacoma. Whenever I could I would make my way to University Avenue to hang out, go to record stores and meet other punks/freaks. 

Since I was very young and the world of punk was so mysterious, totally underground, and more than a little bit edgy, even dangerous, pretty much everybody I met was older, more experienced. and wiser about the streets and world than me. This dynamic between myself and my new acquaintances made them all seem impossibly sophisticated, interesting and cool. Most of them smoked, drank, and did drugs. Some of them were homeless street kids and even hustlers. Some were kids more like me from homes of various levels of disintegration and harmony who were into aggressive, intense music, had a personal style with some flair, were looking for something exciting to call their own. and had found it in punk rock.

Ashby, pictured here about to stage dive at the Eagles Hippodrome was one of the kids I thought was especially cool. He probably barely noticed me hanging around. He was at every show I went to, was always on The Ave. too. He wore a trench coat, army surplus spats over his combat boots, had a shaved head, wore a beret sometimes and seemed to know everyone in the scene. He was probably only three or four years older than I was but that made a lot of difference at the time. 

The guy over Ashby’s shoulder is Jello Biafra of Dead Kennedys who, it just so happens, would be my employer in S.F. about five years after this shot was taken. Small world huh?

I’ll write about more of these “older, wiser” characters in future posts. Photo by Mike Leach

6:44pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zl8DhvISs5z4
(Notes: 5)
  
Filed under: Ashby eagles hippodrome hardcore punk seattle university avenue jello biafra dead kennedys