Jason Traeger
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Anyone who knows me knows I've never been one to revel in the past. I'm the last one to cast a misty-eyed glance back at the "good old days". In my experience the people who take this angle are usually the ones who weren't there. Whatever mistakes, false starts and missed opportunities I've had the pleasure of having, I was wherever I was for better or worse.

This blog is not meant to romanticize any choices I made or any particular era. It's simply a place where I share stories and take stock of where I've been as a way to figure out where I might want to go next. I'll celebrate some people along the way, some of them you'll know or know of, others will be new to you. I'm glad to have known every one of them.

The posts are in no thematic or chronological order. The date at the end of the post's title refers to how the content of the post relates to me personally. I make no claim about the accuracy of my recollections I only promise that I'll be as honest and accurate as I can be. If you were there and you remember things differently than I do, or you find evidence that contradicts my memory (I wouldn't be surprised or upset) feel free to let me know.

Rather than editing the posts for historical accuracy, I'll put ( * ) next to any parts that have been challenged or updated for that reason.


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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: 34)
  
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 
May 1, 2012

PUNK IS AN ATTITUDE  THE WRECKS  BESSIE OAKLEY  RENO 1984

I don’t have a clue what goes on behind the scenes of incarnate reality aside from what I’ve gleaned from the countless glimpses behind the veil  I’ve secured through close encounters of the trippy kind with minor to massive doses of psychedelic substances over the years. These psycho-spiritual excursions may have provided me with some very useful modeling of the post death/pre-birth state but they sure didn’t leave anything resembling a neat little cosmic answer tied up with string on my doorstep!

I’m compelled then by observation and experience to take a rather agnostic view of the realms beyond. It seems like the only sensible position to take, after all, if these bardos were well understood they wouldn’t be the realms beyond. Instead they’d be a Subway Sandwich location or something. My position on these matters means I can’t honestly say I believe in reincarnation, but I’m also able to say I don’t not believe in it either. 

That said, there are certain people I’ve known who, without my even immediately recognizing it, are subtly related in my mind with another semi-specific place and time. My old friend Bessie Oakley is one of those people. As long as I’ve known her I’ve always associated her presence with that of a frontier woman of The Old West.

If you knew her you’d agree it wouldn’t take a great leap of imagination to see why I made that connection. It’s not rooted in bunch of metaphysical b.s. that’s for sure. Heck, all you have to do is say her name out loud…(   )…. If that isn’t the name of a heroine from the out of cowboy days dag blammit, I’ll eat mah hat!

It also doesn’t hurt that Bessie’s from Reno, NV. (or was it Sparks that she grew up in?) Not to mention her look. She is very beautiful but not in a overly delicate or super girly way. Even though I knew her well as a young lady there was a flinty edge to her appearance and demeanor that gave her good-natured summery glow a formidable quality.

She wasn’t too tall, she wasn’t too small, she had a frame that would’ve served her well splitting a cord of wood or tearing up the dance floor in town at the saloon. If she wore make-up at all she never wore much of it. When she thought hard about something her clear blue eyes would get squinty and I could just picture her surveying a stranger riding up on his horse toward the porch of her homestead from across a sun bitten prairie.

Her personal style did nothing to place her squarely in the times we lived through together as friends either. All through the Punk/Hardcore days she wore her blonde hair down past her shoulders and often in braids. She wore denim, long skirts and sensible shoes and with only a minor tweak here and there she could’ve strolled onto the set of a Western movie and straight into the camera’s eye without anyone having to shout “cut!”

Her personality was right at home in her person too. She was and still is funny as hell with a sense of humor that reflected her love of John Waters and which could make even the guys blush. She is tender hearted and warm but she didn’t take any sh-t from creeps. I always knew her to be patient and very open minded but she didn’t put up with nonsense or suffer fools gladly.

She also happens to be the very definition of a maverick pioneer, if not in terms of settling the land and breaking ponies, then at least culturally speaking. She and her all-girl Hardcore band The Wrecks were matter-of-fact Riot Grrrl before the first people to call themselves “Riot Grrrls” were out of grade school! I might be forgetting one but I can’t think of another all-girl, or even girl-centric band, in that early American Hardcore era. 

The Wrecks were a not-at-all-distant memory by the time I met Bessie in 1984 and soon afterwards, another Wreck, Jone Stebbins, who immediately became one of my dear friends as well. Bessie and Jone weren’t only known for being Wrecks either. They were equally well regarded and probably just as well known for their work as the co-editors of one of the most engaging and well loved fanzines of the time, a brilliant,  funny, and charming off-the-cuff serial work of art known as Paranoia ”the magazine for blind and illiterate punks”.

As fate would have it, a few years later in San Francisco I came to be friends with the band’s drummer Lynn Perko. She and I even played music together a few times when her band Sister Double Happiness was on a hiatus. I sucked, she was great, our jams didn’t leave the practice place. I was an acquaintance of The Wrecks’ singer Helen in S.F. as well. At the time I knew her she was working at the old Hard Rock Cafe location over on Van Ness and we’d all hang out together with the likes of Gary Floyd, Debbie Gordon, Phillip Gilbeau, Roddy Bottum and that whole Texas/S.F. Dicks/ Faith No More /later to become Imperial Teen scene. 

Even though most Punks, myself included, only got to experience The Wrecks’ music from their legendary cassette releases, I also had the good fortune of feeling the impact of their energy in my life as personal friends. It has to be said though that you didn’t have to know them personally or even know their songs to be touched by their influence. The fact is, if you were involved in the American Punk scene in that era you likely were affected by them whether you knew it or not.

I say this because they were hugely important individuals in the compact but very vital and widely influential Reno punk scene, a scene known by its nickname Skeeno. That city’s motto the “Biggest Little City in the World”  could’ve very accurately been applied to its Punk scene alter ego as well in terms of the disproportionate size of its footprint on the national scene. All the touring bands played Reno back then. For instance if you lived there you probably saw Minor Threat, I lived in the much bigger city of Seattle and  never had the chance to see them live.

Of course Reno didn’t just import the great bands they exported some too. By far the most well known of these exports is the mighty 7SECONDS. If you follow my blog you know I was great friends with 7 SECONDS (who I met through Bessie) and that as a teenager I had the life-altering experience of seeing the country as a roadie for the band. I also shared a place with Kevin, his girlfriend Angie, and some other folks in Reno for a while around the time of that tour.

When I said earlier that you didn’t have to know The Wrecks or have even heard them to be touched by their broader influence, I’m thinking primarily about how their presence was felt nationally through the gender inclusive, proto Punk Rock-feminist message woven into 7 SECONDS’ songs and aura. It may seem strange that in a politically radical scene like American Hardcore there were very few bands singing about gender equality but it’s true.

7 SECONDS weren’t just any band either. They were one of the most popular bands around and they toured a lot. Everywhere they went they made a point to address women’s and girl-centered issues head on from the stage. Kevin’s lyrics also spoke specifically about defending and promoting women’s roles and rights in Punk Scene itself.

Like I said, this was a very rare message to hear before 7 SECONDS but it was more common after they delivered it to the scene. So it was no small thing. I knew a lot of girls and guys, myself included, who deeply appreciated this strong pro-woman perspective being voiced in the very dude-centric, too often very macho wilderness of the scene at that time.

I’ve read many interviews, and I’ve heard Kevin talk on stage very clearly about how his gender inclusive perspective was influenced by the big role women played in the Reno scene. Bessie and Jone, The Wrecks, he and his brother Steve Youth’s sister Cari and other women helped shaped that scene into the special one it was. It should also be noted that the 7 SECONDS brothers were raised by a strong mother who was known to the scene, and thanked on every one of the band’s releases, as Ma Seconds.

That’s what I mean about the ripple effect Bessie, Jone, Lynn and Helen’s music has had and continues to have on the world. It’s also worth mentioning that I was urged several times to write this post by a woman who herself has long been a prolific and inspirational progenitor of The Wrecks’ motto “Punk is an Attitude”, none other than Bikini Kill/Jigsaw/3rd wave feminist icon, artist, and activist Tobi Vail. 

So all you Tumblring teenage Riot Grrrls out there who have had your lives changed by  Kathleen and Tobi’s shouts, wails, singing, playing, pounding and professing, you might want to Google ”Wrecks Reno Punk” sometime. You’ll be glad you did.

I’ll close on a personal note…

I can say this now over 25 years after the fact without a hint of embarrassment because it wasn’t a secret then, it’s no secret now, and it only shows what exceptionally good taste I have, and had in human beings even as a young Punk.

Bessie Oakley was my first true love. I hoped then that I wasn’t shooting too far out of my league as a 15 year old in my feelings for her, even if I was I couldn’t help it! My love for Bessie transcended the realm of being a mere crush on some older, unapproachable, scene queen that I could only admire from afar. Yes, she was and will always be, a total Punk Rock hero of mine but she was also one of my closest, most beloved friends and she was someone I (and half the guys in the scene, I’d imagine) simply adored. Like so many other people, I still adore her to this day! 

…and I love Jone, Kev, Lynn, Steve, Troy, and all those Reno people who meant so much to me and taught me so many good things about life. Thanks guys!

I’d like to dedicate this post to all of you and to Tobi Vail.

R.I.P. Phillip Gilbeau.

The Wrecks, Bessie Oakley and Jone Stebbins photos by Cari L. Marvelli. Birthday collage made for me from Bessie Oakley (featuring Tim Yohannon, Jone, Silvio from Italy, Barry from Christ on Parade, Martin Sprouse and many more) from my personal archives. Thanks to Cari L. Marvelli.


2:44pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zl8DhvKiBY6h
(Notes: 10)
  
Filed under: 7 seconds bessie oakley bikini kill blondies pizza christ on parade faith no more gary floyd hardcore imperial teen jone stebbins kathleen hanna kevin seconds lynn perko truell minor threat paranoia phillip gilbeau psychdelics punk reno roddy bottum sister double happiness skeeno steve youth the dicks the wrecks tim yohannon tobi vail riot grrrl angie whitworth troy mowatt 
March 28, 2012
CERTIFICATE OF PATIENCE TO ME FROM MINOR THREAT TACOMA 1983 
This is exactly why as a kid I loved sending away for records so much.
Minor Threat were one of my very favorite East Coast Hardcore bands second maybe only to the incomparable Bad Brains. I loved their lyrics and their message but more than anything it was their sound that set them apart from so many other lesser bands.
Lyle Preslar’s thick, rich guitar tone, Jeff Nelson’s urgent, artful drumming, Brian Baker’s bouyant bass lines and of course Ian’s tuneful, heartfelt, shouting, talking and singing when heard together in tightly knit, perfectly rendered chunks were just awesome.
Living in Seattle and Tacoma as I did during the band’s brief run meant I never got to see them perform live. I do remember seeing their name on a list of upcoming shows at The Metropolis and being ecstatic about it. As fate would have it however, the band would break up before fulfilling my dream of seeing them. The show never happened.
At least I had the records.
Their first two 7“‘s and the tracks on Dischord’s excellent Flex Your Head compilation, (which constituted a third e.p. the way I listened to the album, always setting the needle back at the beginning of Minor Threat’s bands of grooves as soon as the last note of the track “12XU” sounded) was a miraculous sounding body of work to my young ears. 
When I learned there was a new 12” out I was beyond excited. I sent away for it as soon as I heard about it. 
In an earlier post I wrote about the necessity and thrill I had in this era of ordering records through the mail. I mentioned the long wait you’d often have to resign yourself to while the wheels of commerce and the US Postal service spun. Usually I was fine with the wait but this time it was different.
Three days after I ordered the new album “Out of Step” I started searching the porch with my eyes, looking for the square flat cardboard box. A couple weeks into the wait I remember I’d even close my eyes as I approached the front steps so I could blink them open and make the record show up. Maybe it had been stolen?
Now that I think about it, that’s really cute.
When it finally did arrive a month after I’d ordered it I couldn’t have been happier. I was doubly stoked when inside with the album I found this “certificate of patience” made out to me personally and signed by Ian and Jeff of Minor Threat. I thought it was very funny and too damn cool at the time and I still do!
Of course the record is one of the greatest of the era, a total classic, and a great work of art for all time.
Minor Threat continues to be one of the rare bands from that era whose music always sounds fresh, new, and exciting. The songs never sound the least bit dated, the lyrics speak to anyone in any time and the sound is still the sound.
I gotta get this thing in a frame! Pronto!
Minor Threat “certificate of patience” made out to me and signed by Ian MacKaye and Jeff Nelson from my personal archive.

CERTIFICATE OF PATIENCE TO ME FROM MINOR THREAT TACOMA 1983 

This is exactly why as a kid I loved sending away for records so much.

Minor Threat were one of my very favorite East Coast Hardcore bands second maybe only to the incomparable Bad Brains. I loved their lyrics and their message but more than anything it was their sound that set them apart from so many other lesser bands.

Lyle Preslar’s thick, rich guitar tone, Jeff Nelson’s urgent, artful drumming, Brian Baker’s bouyant bass lines and of course Ian’s tuneful, heartfelt, shouting, talking and singing when heard together in tightly knit, perfectly rendered chunks were just awesome.

Living in Seattle and Tacoma as I did during the band’s brief run meant I never got to see them perform live. I do remember seeing their name on a list of upcoming shows at The Metropolis and being ecstatic about it. As fate would have it however, the band would break up before fulfilling my dream of seeing them. The show never happened.

At least I had the records.

Their first two 7“‘s and the tracks on Dischord’s excellent Flex Your Head compilation, (which constituted a third e.p. the way I listened to the album, always setting the needle back at the beginning of Minor Threat’s bands of grooves as soon as the last note of the track “12XU” sounded) was a miraculous sounding body of work to my young ears. 

When I learned there was a new 12” out I was beyond excited. I sent away for it as soon as I heard about it. 

In an earlier post I wrote about the necessity and thrill I had in this era of ordering records through the mail. I mentioned the long wait you’d often have to resign yourself to while the wheels of commerce and the US Postal service spun. Usually I was fine with the wait but this time it was different.

Three days after I ordered the new album “Out of Step” I started searching the porch with my eyes, looking for the square flat cardboard box. A couple weeks into the wait I remember I’d even close my eyes as I approached the front steps so I could blink them open and make the record show up. Maybe it had been stolen?

Now that I think about it, that’s really cute.

When it finally did arrive a month after I’d ordered it I couldn’t have been happier. I was doubly stoked when inside with the album I found this “certificate of patience” made out to me personally and signed by Ian and Jeff of Minor Threat. I thought it was very funny and too damn cool at the time and I still do!

Of course the record is one of the greatest of the era, a total classic, and a great work of art for all time.

Minor Threat continues to be one of the rare bands from that era whose music always sounds fresh, new, and exciting. The songs never sound the least bit dated, the lyrics speak to anyone in any time and the sound is still the sound.

I gotta get this thing in a frame! Pronto!

Minor Threat “certificate of patience” made out to me and signed by Ian MacKaye and Jeff Nelson from my personal archive.

5:50am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zl8DhvIhhvaO
(Notes: 40)
  
Filed under: ian mackaye jeff nelson dischord records minor threat independent records mailorder d.i.y. 12XU lyle preslar brian baker 
March 27, 2012

AC/DC, RACE RELATIONS, ANGUS YOUNG and ME  TACOMA/S.F. 1981-1991 


AC/DC was the biggest band around in 1980 when I was in the 7th grade in the very white suburbs north of Seattle. Their logo was everywhere and their album Back in Black was truly inescapable. I was not a huge hard rock fan but I loved that album and all their earlier ones like everyone else seemed to.

I should not have to argue the case that AC/DC’s no-frills, four-on-the-floor, blues based hard rock kicked and still kicks serious butt. Sure their lyrics ranged from not-very-deep to downright dumb but who cared? If you wanted poetry you can read a book right? They wrote catchy songs full of power and attitude, had swagger, a sense of humor, Angus mooned the crowd and wore a school-boy uniform, and the rest of the band wore jeans and t-shirts. That was all very cool.

When I got into punk just after the Back in Black craze I was sure half the AC/DC fans out there would soon see the light and cut their hair too.

Didn’t happen.

Instead they yelled “DEVO!” and threw sh-t at us from their muscle cars. They stalked us mercilessly like prey through the streets. I’d play Black Flag, Minor Threat, and Bad Brains for the more sympathetic rockers I knew but they only cringed. They hated it. I’d play them D.O.A., the most hard rock-sounding of the punk bands I dug but they only complained that the band “couldn’t play their instruments” Ugh.

When I moved to Tacoma for my 8th grade year, I attended a school that was very economically, culturally, and racially diverse. Jason Lee Jr High School at 6th and Sprague was located near the working class, mostly black, Hilltop neighborhood but since it was an academically respected band magnet school, it drew a lot of well-to-do white kids from the stately homes in the affluent North End as well. I lived with my Mom, Stepdad and brother right by the school. 

The black kids I knew at school listened to all kinds of music but in the pre-hip hop era the biggest acts were the likes of Kool and the Gang, Rick James, Michael jackson, Teena Marie, and Prince. I liked a lot of that stuff too. I could definitely see a relationship between punk and stuff like Rick James and Prince in particular. If these kids didn’t dig my music they at least seemed sympathetic to my style. They might have had differing opinions about whether the punk look was ridiculous, funny, or maybe even “fly” but the one thing they all seemed to agree on is that it was harmless.

My nickname among some of the black kids was “Spider-leg” because my spiked up, dyed black hair looked like…yeah you guessed it.

When I pierced my ear it was scandalous. The whole school was aflutter about it. I was big for my age and I was well-liked so I wasn’t abused too badly about it but my sanity and my sexual orientation were questioned more than once that’s for sure. That is until the biggest, toughest kid in the school followed my lead and pierced his own ear too!

He was a fair skinned black kid named Raven who had a faint mustache and big biceps one of which had a crude homemade tattoo on it. He thought my earring was wild and told me it reminded him of a pirate. He thought I was cool for not giving a sh-t.

Looking back maybe I was cool.

Whatever the case, no one called me a fag behind my back for having a stud in my ear at school after that. Out on the streets was a different story…

When I talk about being harassed and attacked for looking punk I’m exclusively talking about white, redneck, rocker dudes doing the attacking. The black kids in my neighborhood certainly possessed fighting skills that were no doubt equal or superior to the rocker-types, they were just never seriously inspired to f-ck with us.

 I do remember being challenged by black kids a number of times but being invitedto fight is a lot different than being assaulted and terrorized by dudes twice your age and size as was often the case with the knucklehead, long haired, rocker a—holes.

As much as I hated those idiots and most of the music they liked, I stuck by AC/DC through the years. So much so that the first real guitar I ever bought years later was a plain brown Gibson SG just like Angus Young’s.

I had my revenge on those troglodyte heshers ten years later when I found myself hanging out backstage after an AC/DC concert drinking Heinekens and talking with Angus flippin’ Young (!) about all his houses around the world. The ones he told me he never got a chance to visit because they tour all the f-cking time! Hahaha! (raspy nicotine laugh)

A friend of a friend of mine who worked for ATCO Records had gotten me and my friend Rene Van De Meer (ex-singer of the super intense Dutch hardcore band BGK and total AC/DC freak) tickets and backstage passes to meet the band after their show at The Cow Palace in San Francisco.

Revenge is sweet and as I found out… so is Angus Young!

The black and white picture is from my Jason Lee Jr. HS 8th grade year book “Best Dressed” section. I’m pictured with my classmate, the beautiful and very stylish Ms. Sharon Stewart, who was only slightly put out (look at her expression) by being voted into the section along with the joke winner…me. I remember her saying something to the effect of “you gotta be kidding me, what’s up with putting my fine self in a picture with Punk Rock?” Punk Rock was another affectionate, if not terribly creative, nickname I was called by the kids at school. She had a point.

Backstage pass sticker signed by Angus Young and (AC/DC’s drummer on that tour) Chris Slade.

R.I.P. Rick James, Bon Scott, Teena Marie, and Cliff Lippman, the friend who set me up to hang with Angus Young. Thanks Cliff.

Both items from my personal archive.

(Source: jasonotraeger)

6:02pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zl8DhvIgNUWc
(Notes: 2)
  
Filed under: AC/DC Kool and the gang Prince Rene Van De Meer Rick James back in black bgk black flag black sabbath chris slade devo doa jason lee jr. high michael jackson minor threat punk teena marie angus young malcom young malcolm young brian johnson cow palace san francisco 
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