A handful of years ago, my friend Jay sent me the demo of his new band. Jay had spent years fronting the legendary Detroit punk/ska band, The Suicide Machines. A few years had passed since they released War Profiteering and broke up. Jay was fronting a new band now. That band was Hellmouth. This was the most pissed off record I had heard in easily a decade or more. Like, genuinely pissed off. I invited the band to come play Grand Rapids, MI at my home bar, Jukes. What an unbelievable show. I'll always regard that show as one of my favorites I had ever booked. After the show, Jay, Alex, Jeff, and Justin stayed with me. Jay and I ended up sitting on my front porch and having quite the conversation. I asked a lot of questions about his time in the Machines, which he happily told me stories about. Eventually, we got on the subject of Hellmouth. I asked, “Why Hellmouth?” He responded with, "I wanted to bring the danger back to punk rock".
Damn.
That was quite the statement. Upon further reflection, he was correct. Punk had lost a lot of the danger and chaos over the years. Well, in my world it definitely had. My taste was way more in the Fat/Epitaph wheelhouse, and more melodic punk over all. Hellmouth, as a live band, was pure chaos from the first note. I would see them a dozen or so more times over the years. One memory I'll never get out of my skull was the year Hellmouth played the post-show party at Black Xmas. Black Xmas was the one big show every year that the Suicide Machines would headline at the Majestic Theatre Complex in Detroit. A few thousand would come out to this from all over the Midwest every year. Mustard Plug always played, so I, as their merch guy, would get to attend. This particular year, Hellmouth was playing after The Machines in the lobby of the bowling alley. That space held only 100 at best. It felt like there were 500 people there. As I was leaving, I forced my way through the crowd and stopped for a minute. I looked above me and there was Jay, one arm hanging on to a rafter, balancing on a table, and microphone with a hardcore grip in the other hand. I caught direct eye contact with him as he screamed into the mic. Pretty sure I saw the gateway to hell in that stare. The show was so chaotic that the complex refused to let any band play that space during Black Xmas for a few years. It looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off. Fukn epic.
Around this same time, I lived in a place called The Firehouse. It was actually a firehouse in the early 1900s and the upstairs had been completely remodeled to facilitate habitation by myself and two other friends. We would host shows and, for a while, would turn it into a restaurant on Sunday mornings and host Underground Brunch. My roomie Ryan booked a band called Fuck You Pay Me from Ohio. He told me that their live show was intense. I had no idea how intense until Tony Erba took the stage. This guy was pushing 50 years-old, had multiple heart attacks already, and he threw down a hundred times harder than most 19 year-olds I've witnessed. He almost set the place on actual goddamn fire. Oh the irony of a firehouse being set on fire...
This guy was pushing 50 years-old, had multiple heart attacks already, and he threw down a hundred times harder than most 19 year-olds I've witnessed.
I guess what I'm getting at is that I miss the danger. I miss the chaos. These guys played every show like it was the very last thing they were going to do before they died and it showed. These are the shows that had the most lasting impact on me. For years now, that has been my mantra. Play every show like it's your last. Never take for granted what you have now, cuz it could be gone tomorrow. Be weird. Show the world who the hell you are. Hopefully there's some young kid out in the middle of nowhere USA reading this that is just now getting into punk rock. Hopefully that kid reads this and looks up bands like Fuck You Pay Me, Hellmouth, and Who Killed Spikey Jacket on youtube and this kid gets excited and goes out to do some sketchy shit. Who Killed Spikey Jacket? Look them up. They played a legendary set at the FYWROK Fest in Tulsa Oklahoma. LEGENDARY.
I guess what I am trying to get at here is that punk rock has become a boring. It has been severely lacking flavor and excitement. Now go forth, young person. Go forth and leave tales of your crazy antics to be told to the next generation. Live your life with abandon, cuz in the end, nothing matters more than the stories you collect.
