Drunken Sex Still Sucks: A chat with Bob McDonald of Bum Kon

My love of Bum Kon is rooted in moments fixed into my memory. To clarify, my sentiments about the band are centered surrounding a time and place. Their music was the pretext, a portal for me into the Denver punk culture and all the growing pains associated with it. Perhaps I’ll be able to articulate my sentiments below.

I saw more than my fair share of times of Bum Kon up on stage blazing through their fiery set of songs. They were like a loose nerve ending anxiously flinging from one side to the other. Their energy sent your heart racing almost to the point hyperventilation. I don’t know how they did it, but they moved from one song to the next without the tempo falling apart. In retrospect, I feel sorry for people who only heard their Drunken Sex Sux 7” EP and the two following LPs: Bum Kon and Ground Round. The perpetual problem with the recordings of early to mid-80’s punk and hardcore bands was they didn’t fully capture the synergy between band, audience, and venue.

My first encounter with Bum Kon was in the summer of 83’ when they opened for Kraut and GBH at the Aztlan Theatre. The Aztlan was right around the corner from mis tios, tias y primas/os. It was in the heart of the barrio, not the ideal place to hang out after sundown. The sight of punks wandering around in that part of Denver generated strong reactions from the homies rolling down Santa Fe Avenue where the venue was situated. I overheard a couple of kids that evening talk about the “Mexican neighborhood.” It felt personal in a way since I belonged to both groups. Admittedly, it was funny seeing mostly suburban white kids rocking out in the hood. It felt odd being there. In many respects I was like everyone else inside, yet there was a strong personal connection to the venue. The Aztlan was a space where my family members saw movies back in the day. Traditionally the building served the Mexican-American community. Witnessing a punk show in that setting was my first bi-cultural experience. Walking in to see the bands, I felt neither here nor there.  

Flier courtesy of Trash is Truth. 

As a relative newbie to the scene, I mostly kept to myself that evening, snapping pictures of the bands and crowd with my Kodak 110 camera. Many of the punks dressed for the occasion in their band shirts and leather jackets, but the majority were sweating it out in shorts and t-shirts. Bob, the singer for Bum Kon wore his iconic smiley face t-shirt, an obvious hangover from the 70’s. The shirt struck me as ironic in many ways; it was a joke on punk fashion and a statement at the same time. The shirt made many more appearances, and the face was also included on their first recording; something I always associated the band with.

Another Bum Kon moment was the final night at Kennedy’s. Although the band didn’t play, I bought their 7” from one of the members. It was on the mind of everyone in the crowd that Denver was losing its only dedicated all-ages makeshift punk club. During the middle of one band’s set, there was a burst of spontaneous outrage with beer cans being smashed on the cement floor. The punks went ballistic kicking holes in the walls and smashing sinks and toilets. With water rapidly spilling onto the floors, Nancy, the owner of the club was hysterical and rushed around rounding everybody up and pushing people out the door. It was a sad moment for the scene and I somehow sensed it was the end of an era. The flier for that show depicted tombstones and perhaps foreshadowed the inevitable outcome of that evening.

Bum Kon at Kennedy's Warehouse. Original photograph by Valerie Harris. Brush and ink drawing by Bob Rob (Medina). 

My dad was due to pick me up at midnight. Since the show closed down hours earlier, I stood outside the venue in the dark and cold trying to hide myself in the doorway. During that era, downtown Denver was desolate and roaming with vagrants and Kennedy’s was adjacent to the Denver Rescue Mission. I had the record tucked into my jacket and I think the only thing that saved me that evening was my size. I had just turned 15 and obsessed over the possibility of what might happen to me. I never told my dad what really went down that night, other than the show ended early. I knew the consequences of full disclosure. It was a quiet drive back home.

By the mid-90’s I had sold off most of my rare punk records, including a couple that came out of Denver to collectors from all over the world. I needed the money at the time and had little emotional attachment to the material world. One guy in LA offered me $100 for my Bum Kon 7”. I entertained the idea, but in the end I couldn’t do it. It still sits in my box of 7”s. It will always symbolize the end of Kennedy’s with the duality of being a lucky charm of sorts. 

Bum Kon was a powerhouse on stage; they rolled through their set of songs like a passing train. The band evolved from hardcore/thrash beginnings to more of a technical metal sound never sheading their roots. The members: Bob McDonald: vocals, Erik Oberhausen: bass, Mark Thorpe: drums, Larry Denning (R.I.P.): guitar, and later Kelly Cowan: Keyboards, were all down to earth guys, always friendly and approachable. It was a shame they were barely known outside of Denver. And just in case you’re wondering, the meaning of the band’s name is: Go Crazy! as metaphorically stated by the band’s guitarist Larry during an Interview in Something Better Change fanzine. Never mind that it was Woo Bum-Kon, a Korean police officer who went on a murderous spree and ended the rampage by blowing himself up (and hostages) with two grenades in 1982. Thanks for the memories Bob, Erik, Mark and Larry.

Bob McDonald was kind enough to share his stories and insights about Bum Kon below.

In the summer of 1981, when my friend returned from visiting his relatives in LA, his cousin had given him a handful of cassette tapes with bands like Black Flag, Circle Jerks, Clash, etc. I was never really into rock music and actually preferred the soundtrack to Star Wars and my parent’s 8-track tape collection consisting of stuff like Charlie Pride and Mexican Rancheros. I was totally blown away when he played the tapes; it felt like music that was made especially for me. What was your first encounter with punk music? Did you automatically connected with it? Your first show experience? 

I had become bored and disillusioned with the type of rock music I had been listening to and that my friends were into; no longer feeling a connection to it. I began drifting away from my core group of friends the summer between junior high and high school, no longer interested in smoking weed, etc. Hearing Rush for the first time was probably the final straw, I had to find something else. I began listening to some more pre-70s/pre-psychedelic rock, and though I really enjoyed it, it just wasn't what I was looking for. I started hanging out with an Irish guy, a co-worker from Round The Corner Restaurant in Cherry Creek. He had records by English punk and new wave bands, along with Ramones and underground New York/Cleveland bands. I was hooked immediately. The two of us went to my first punk show together, which was the Ramones and Dictators at the Rainbow -I think it was 1979 (Handsome Dick Manitoba insisted that was the year when I met him several years ago). I also was listening to punk with my cousin John, who was visiting that summer from Lawrence, Kansas. He went on to form the Mortal Micronotz. 

Some might refer to your generation as the second wave of Denver punk, I usually call it the first generation of Denver hardcore and more aptly titled: thrash. You and others were a part of the group of kids that went to East High School that started bands. How did that scene unfold? Going to shows and listening to records, when did everyone decide: “hey, we should be doing this”?

During my first year at East there really wasn't much of a punk scene. Dan Dhonau (he was a junior), myself, two seniors (who didn't hang out with us) Lorraine Kennedy and Valerie Harris, plus some people at Manuel HS (Jenny Thero number 1). Dan and I started a band with a couple of other guys called Problem Youth and mainly played covers. We never left the basement. When my junior year started, some of my friends from jr. high had gotten into punk: Erik Oberhausen and Andy Monley, and Geoff Paxton (a friend from elementary school who had moved back to the area). There was a new group of sophomores, Johnny Meggitt, Tom Kennedy, Jason Smith, Chris Steele, Mike Serviola, Pete (can't think of his last name,) Jimi Griff, and probably others I’m forgetting. We all started hanging out at Tom Kennedy's house after school especially on days when Child Abuse practiced; the best punk band Denver had or will ever know. We all listened to Black Flag, Germs, DKs, etc. and goofed around. Being a small group in a rather hostile environment (toward punks), we stayed tight and together. I was no longer playing in Problem Youth as the band morphed to become Peace Core. Child Abuse, Peace Core, Frantix, White Trash, all these bands were infectious and everyone wanted to be doing something. As for me, every show and every record I heard made me want to be more and more involved. 

Early Bum Kon. Original photograph by Nancy Kennedy. Oil painting by Bob Rob (Medina).

How did Bum Kon form and what was the first show?

Bum Kon formed at the Husker Du matinee show at the Mercury Cafe. After they finished playing they asked if anyone wanted to come up and play. Erik Oberhausen and I jumped up, along with Mark Thorpe and Larry Denning. I remember playing "Louie Louie" Black Flag style. Afterwards, we all kind of looked at each other and were on the same page to start a band. I don't recall what our first show was, but woe to whoever played after us...

Bum Kon set list from an early Fort Collins show. Courtesy of Jeff Ross

There was always a close relationship between Bum Kon and the Frantix. You had the song: “Questions” they had, “New Questions” in addition to Bum Kon /Frantix beer cans references on your respective 7” eps. How intentional was that? How would you describe that relationship and the influence you had on each other?

Bum Kon and Frantix were all good friends and loved to play shows together. I don't think there was any connection between the two songs. The beer can thing was just a fun inside joke. It started with Rick's idea for a brand called "Crazy Beer," with the advertising slogan: Crazy Beer, it'll fuck you up!

Drunken Sex Sucks 7" ep insert.  

In reading early interviews, was there a competition between you guys and the Frantix on who could outdo each other in obnoxiousness to answering questions?

I don't recall a competition regarding who could be more obnoxious, but I think the whole scene in general pushed each other to outdo the next person in that regard. It was just a part of who we all were: a bunch of fucking punks. 

I have some photos I took of Bum Kon at the GBH/Kraut show at the Aztlan and you wore a smiley face shirt. I have seen you on stage wearing that shirt more than a couple of times. Was it your rabbit’s foot for preforming?

I bought the smiley face shirt at a thrift store and just really liked it. It was such a lame expression of that whole time, all the smiley face stuff that was everywhere set against the Reagan era, which was anything but happy. It became kind of an unofficial band logo (we used it on the label of the 7-inch). It was also light and comfortable and nice for playing sweaty shows. I recalling that being a horrible show by the way.

There are a few of what I think are some of the best photos of Bum Kon floating around taken by Nancy Kennedy. The particular show I’m referring to was in someone’s living room. What were some of the more unusual places the band played?

Nancy always got great photos. Her Misfits/Necros at the hospital are priceless-you had to have been there. I'm not sure about that living room (I know the photo), but would guess maybe at Nancy and Tom's. By normal show venue criteria we did play some unusual places, though at the time they seemed pretty normal to me. Among the more memorable:

The Packing House: A warehouse at a former slaughterhouse in north Denver.

Christians: Skid row, an alley off of Larimer St.

Larimore Dump: exquisite. 

The Dust Bowl: The basement of an art gallery off of Santa Fe, the floor was dirt, and when the punks danced, hence the name. My mom came to see us there once, but only lasted about two minutes, if even that. 

The Outhouse in Lawrence, Kansas: A concrete shack/building out in the middle of Kansas farmland. 

There were some gyms, a couple of awesome 3.2 gay bars…(3.2 is basically watered down beer, 3.2% ABV hence the name that was available in Colorado to 18 year-olds. ed.)

Flier by Headbanger and courtesy of Trash is Truth. 

Flier courtesy of Trash is Truth.

Is there one show/night for whatever reason that has been a permanent fixture in your memory? 

Opening for Motorhead at the rainbow on their 10th anniversary tour. We were treated like shit by the venue, had terrible sound, generally sucked, but got to meet and chat with Lemmy and of course see the show. Any night at Kennedy's.

Flier courtesy of Jeff Ross.

Nancy always reminded me as the soccer mom of punk. In what ways did she nurture bands and the scene?

She definitely was and was a huge influence on myself and I would imagine all of us. She let us hang out at her house, play music in the basement, stay there if there was trouble at home (or in a case or two, nowhere to go). She let touring bands stay there, most notably Black Flag and Minutemen. She fed people and joined in with whatever we were doing. She acted as occasional guardian so someone could get into a 21 and over show. She threw wicked elbows on the dance floor, but gave it her all so that we could continue to play music and have a safe place to hang out. This included sinking every bit of her money and energy into opening an all-ages venue for the scene with no thought for turning a profit or her own comfort (she lived there). Without Nancy and her contributions to the Denver punk scene it would never have existed as it did. There should be a statue of her, except she would just vandalize it all the time if there was. 

When all of the first wave of HC bands broke up, switched team members and went on to become something else, Bun Kon not only stuck it out, but also evolved. What was the secret to the longevity?

I guess we just liked each other. Also, there wasn't much to do in Denver. For me the shows seemed the same, though I would imagine later on the sets were longer and we may have taken a moment between songs, possibly not. I have very little remembrance of any show I have ever done in any band. 

How would you compare the band’s early shows to the Ground Round era? In your opinion how had the scene change and what do you think the band did to remain relevant?  

As the scene grew it changed a lot for me. I didn't care for the circle-style pit, seemed stupid and organized, compared to the atoms randomly smashing in to each other type of slam dancing before, so I no longer joined in. The scene had a lot of violence within itself, was factionalized and there seemed to be little community or care for others within it. I would not call a majority of what was going on in the mid-80’s punk rock. That said, there were also a ton of amazing people involved and there were still moments where great amounts of energy were expelled, and for lack of a better word, positivity.

I don't think we did anything to be relevant, we just played the kind of music that we enjoyed playing. In hindsight, I think we were actually trying to turn people off.

How did Duane approach the band about doing your first ep for Local Anesthetic?

He asked if we wanted to do it and of course we said yes! 

Bum Kon t-shirt. Courtesy of Jeff Ross

I can’t count how many times I’ve seen Bum Kon, you guys played out quite a bit, maybe that’s why you got so tight. I think right before the first LP came out, is when you started to hit your stride. At any time during the band’s career was there ever a serious attempt to tour other than one-off shows out of state?

Nope. There was Lawrence, Kansas. We played a disastrous show in Las Vegas; it could be a whole interview in itself. Nothing went right and we were miserable most of the time. The experience did strengthen the bond between us all greatly and introduced a character to the band; a mechanic named Zippy. Zippy was a favorite inside joke and many great impersonations from Larry. We also did shows in Fort Collins (The Grange!), Colorado Springs where one of the shows led to a local news story on punk rock. We also played a show at Colorado Mountain College in Carbondale on the western slope between Glenwood Springs and Aspen. There was Boulder as well.

If you didn’t move to San Francisco how much longer do you think Bum Kon would have continued? Did the band end at the right time?

For me the band ended at the right time. I don't think had I stayed I would have continued on much longer. Erik, Larry and Mark (and Kelly by that time), were really into super technical riffing and a more metal hybrid, and though I love that stuff, I was not really interested in playing it. Then again, with nothing else to do in Denver, it might be still going to this day. 

Twenty-five years after the fact, Smooch/MRR releases the full recording of the Drunken Sex Sucks sessions. How did that come about? 

Andrew Murphy who runs Smooch is a big fan of the Denver/Boulder music from the era and was a former Wax Trax employee. He worked with Duane and Big Bad Bob to release the Local Anesthetic compilation. Through doing that, they came across the tapes Big Bad Bob recorded for the 7-inches. I'm not quite certain exactly how MRR got involved, but I think it was some in-house maneuvering at Revolver USA where Andrew, Johnny Meggit, and a couple of MRR people were all working at the time. Andrew asked about releasing the material and Erik and I were into it. Erik did the great front cover art and I did the Woo Bum-Kon portrait on the back. 

Drunken Sex Sucks complete session, Smooch/MRR records 2008 Artwork by Robert McDonald

Shifting gears a little bit, why didn’t Denver see more of Bad Circus? What was the catalyst for that band?

Though I wasn't in Bad Circus (a common misconception, they were from Italy living in Denver, exchange students I believe). Denver saw more of them than it deserved as they were truly onto something much greater than the city could handle. The one show at Kennedy's should have been the only one, a great riot and a lot of fun to witness. I recall the second one where they backed up Jesus Christ, wasn't nearly as good.  

I was told the bad was formed by three non-musical band vocalists who were fed up with musicians calling the shots about what their bands back in Italy should sound like. They also felt it was important to school the American punks about how their own federal government operates, along with a few other basic civics lessons that didn't appear to have ever been learned by the substandard American school system of the time. I lost touch with them after they returned to Italy, but one of the members supposedly went into politics and was convicted of accepting bribes in the late '90s.

The news of Larry passing was a surprise and maybe even a logical outcome by his lifestyle choices. He was an amazing guitarist and you could hear his potential on the band’s early material. What were your thoughts when your first heard the news?

I was very saddened by Larry's death and my thoughts on the matter are my own. He was a great guitarist and a wonderful friend.

Early Bum Kon propaganda. Go Crazy!

Mark also left Denver and I heard some of his songs he’s been working on. Another friend ran into Eric at a supermarket in Denver. How often do you keep in contact with those two?

I am in occasional touch with Erik and saw him the last couple of times I was in Denver, but I don't get back there often.

Is there a place you feel sentimental about back in Denver?

If I’m sentimental about anyplace in Denver it is Nancy and Tom Kennedy's house. Aside from the core group of friends from East, there were also a lot of other people that hung out with us. There were girls, guys, some in school some not, and many from other schools (St. Mary's baby!). Nothing tops the times we had there and I remain thankful to them both for their unlimited and unwavering generosity, goodwill and support.

Bum Kon discography:
Drunken Sex Sucks 7" EP, Local Anesthetic Records 1983
S/T LP, Local Anesthetic Records 1984
Ground Round LP Sun Baked Records 1986
Drunken Sex Sucks complete session, Smooch/MRR records 2008

Special thanks to Monica Zarazua and Ana Medina for editing help. 

Love or Hate her: This is Jill Razer.

Growing up I always admired tomboys, to be more exact, tough girls. Mostly because they were as rough as my male counterparts and didn’t mind playing in the dirt, a game of football in the street, or guns around the neighborhood. There was always something cool about that type of girl, even characters from TV shows and movies like Jody Foster in the Bad News Bears. I liked that she was uncompromising.

When I got into punk, I loved the way Exene from X and Poly Styrene from X-Ray Spex had character, a sense of self and individualism. They spat in the face of gender roles, challenged the notion of beauty and more importantly didn’t need society’s approval on how they expressed themselves. Their aesthetic was a far cry from the Farrah Fawcett gold standard look of what teenaged boy fantasied about and teenaged girls imitated. The fact that people could just be themselves and bypass all the bullshit commercialism and social constructions shoved in our faces, was what made punk ideal.

When I started attending punk shows, I took note that women in the scene initiated ideas and had active roles, from playing in bands, to making fanzines, to promoting. Witnessing equal contributions by everyone involved quashed any gender stereotyping I might have otherwise developed.

Jill at the Taste of Denver. Original photograph: Cathie Burns (R.I.P): Ink drawing by Bob Rob (Medina).

Love or hate her, one of the staples of Denver punk rock in the 80’s was Jill Razer. Like Headbanger, she promoted a fair amount of shows and would often be at the door taking money or helping out in some capacity. She was tough and showed little tolerance for nonsense such as people trying to scam their way into shows. Over the years our friendship developed, and like other promoters she schooled me on how to successfully book shows, deal with cops, and everything in-between.

At the time, Jill took risks in finding places for bands to play (in-part thanks to Headbanger), getting a P.A. system, making and posting fliers, contacting bands and other thankless tasks. Jill not only faced adversity from the city, police, and other forms of authority, but also from those within the punk community. She did a lot for our scene so we were all able see bands, hang out with friends, and bring like-minded people together in the void that Denver often was. In fact most promoters unselfishly gave themselves for the greater good. It seems more than appropriate that Jill occupies a space in my forthcoming book: Denvoid and the Cowtown Punks.

Jill took the time to reflect and respond on questions I sent her during the past couple of months. This is herstory.   

How did you get into punk, your first punk show?

A friend of mine in Berthoud turned me on to punk back in late ’77.  My first show was the Ramones in ‘78 at the Rainbow Music Hall.

Promoting Shows?

I lived in Ft. Collins and there weren't any shows up there, so I started putting on shows at The Bellevue Grange outside the city in the little town of La Porte. All of the bands were from Denver. I only did a few shows there. Headbanger was a big influence on me. He gave me all kinds of information. I give him credit for becoming a promoter.

Your first show, how did it go? Was there a learning curve?

That first show at the Grange was back in 1983. Most of the audience was from Denver and a few folks from Ft. Collins. It was a packed house. I learned that using a band’s practice P.A. isn’t loud enough for a large hall. Charging $2.50 at the door is not so clever. Always have a bill amount. NEVER USE CENTS. My god, what a pain dealing with all the coins. It’s bad enough having kids panhandling out front to get into show and pay with pennies. Seriously, I've had a few kids pay with only pennies.

Razer's first show at the Bellevue Grange in LaPorte. Courtesy of Jill Razer

Did bands and punks treat you differently because you’re a female?

When I think about it, I was treated a bit differently. At first they thought I was doing this to be the ultimate groupie. After they talked with me, I commanded respect. In a sense I was never treated as a female; I was always one of the guys. This also backfired in many ways, mainly because I never had a boyfriend in all of those years.

What were some of the bigger obstacles you faced putting on shows?

Paying bands a guarantee, finding a venue, trying to do everything on a low budget. I worked as an offset printer so fliers were free.

There’s not much glory in being a promoter. There’s a lot of shit that you have to deal with. What kept you going?

Hell if I know. I became friends with many bands. That made me feel I was doing something important.

Best venue to book a show?

I liked doing shows where there was already a P.A. and all you had to do was fill in the slot. I think the Funhouse was my favorite place. Brian and I were the only ones booking so we did what we wanted.

At the Sonic Youth show at the German House, I remember you jumped on Big John to get him to stop dancing. Were there other times you had to get physical with people?

I didn’t have to get physical with anyone. But then I liked to push my weight around. I was a total control freak. The deal with Big John was that the German House didn’t want a pit, but Big John decided to start dancing/slamming in an obnoxious way. I took it upon myself to take him down and kick him out of show. In retrospect, I could have handled it differently. It did put a riff on our friendship.

Violence in the punk scene started to become a nationwide problem. What do you think was that root of that? Is punk inherently violent?

Rebellious kids hanging out with other rebellious kids listening to rebellious music. Hormones raging. In the beginning there wasn’t any violence, but the kids started to faction off into their own cliques. See, in the beginning we were the outcasts so we stuck together. The music wasn’t fractioned off into subcategories. The scene grew and people formed their own groups of friends. The difference in music tastes also contributed: there was: Oi, Hardcore, New Wave, Goth, Industrial. Each subcategory of punk attracted a different group of people and when you mix them together sometimes it explodes. 

The Denver Skins; did they impact any of your shows?

There was a group of kids that like to antagonize the punks and the punks wouldn’t stand up to the skins so of course the skins had fun just fucking with them. You know that jock mentality. It just escalated. Their numbers swelled. Not many people would stand up to them. I was one of the few who did. So, yes, there was an impact. If the skins were at a show there would always be an altercation. It was just a fact. The only time the skins wouldn't show up was if it wasn’t a hardcore punk show.

Harassment from the police?

Nope, I was really lucky plus I was always nice and respectful to the police (laughter). Not very punk rock of me. The cops never personally harassed me. I know Headbanger got harassed. There was a time the cops were on a witch-hunt for skins. They stopped punks and asked them questions, looked at their tattoos, took pictures, etc., but we didn't know who or what they were looking. As for cops showing up to shows, I learned a great Headbanger trick to hire off duty officers to be security. They would just wave at the other cops and there wasn't a problem.

Courtesy of Jill Razer

What about the Dr. Know show at the Funhouse?

As for that show, it was before I learned the off-duty officer trick. Another trick was to have a sign saying donations. The Funhouse was an illegal venue. The cops did come and bust that show. It was my biggest encounter with the police at any of my shows. They closed it down by force. I remember Dr. Know was on stage and they were trying to get them to stop and the drummer kept playing and throwing drumsticks at the cops. At that time I grabbed the door money and hid upstairs in a cabinet.  I put a note on the band’s van that I would meet them at my apartment so I could pay them. Well, they never saw the note, so the roadie took a bass amp with them for their services. We did meet up later that night to pay them and got the amp back. Mark (R.I.P.), a cook at Fatz City, came to my rescue that evening and got the shit beat out of him by the cops and was hospitalized.

What club/venue do you feel sentimental about?

Kennedys. There were many great shows there, but froze my ass off. The Funhouse for the same reason, but also froze my ass off there as well. The Packing House: it was well hidden and there were great parking lot parties, though it stunk on days when they burned the blood, bones, etc.  I guess it comes down to warehouses . They made a big impression on me. I love architecture.

At what point did you say, “fuck it” and tap out?

After the Corrosion of Conformity (COC)/BL’AST! show. That was the last straw.

Courtesy of Jill Razer

What exactly went down at that show?

Oh, that was a cluster fuck from the beginning. I got a call from COC they wanted to play Denver. I got them at a $1000 guarantee. BL’AST was on tour also, so I put them on the bill and they wanted a $700 guarantee. Burnt Fase opened. David Lee, bassist of Burnt Fase, was my partner and had money for the deposit. A few days before the show, COC called and wanted $1500. I couldn't make the numbers work so we cancelled. But as in true form I pulled a Headbanger and waited until the show to let everyone know. The reason was because BL’AST could NOT fill the Aztlan Theatre. It was either cancel and lose the deposit or change venues. So I added a local band, lowered door price, and said the COC van broke down. David Lee said he’d handle the security; it was mostly his buddies. The show went on no problem other than a few complaints. The next thing I remember a fight broke out with the skins, and my friend Danica and I got maced. Damn that burned and pissed me OFF! Seats were being torn out and fists were flying. David's security couldn't handle the crowd and the venue brought in their own security to stop fights. The skins gathered outside and decided to try to tip the BL’AST’s van over but only broke the windshield. Two of Denver’s bigger promoters came up to me after the show and told me point blank, “It's promoters like you that give us a bad name.” I never wanted to be a big time promoter like those guys, I liked the grass root DIY underground approach to shows: the only way to know about a show is by word of mouth or if you were lucky enough to find one of the 500 fliers printed. So I had $500 in damages to the hall, the van and sound equipment. Out of pocket if I remember correctly, around $1000. How and why did this happened? COC had on the back of their album Animosity stating: "The only good thing about a skinhead is that they are biodegradable.” 30 years later I’ve had conversations with all parties involved and there are no hard feelings.

Excerpt from Westword. Collection of Jill Razer 

What was Nuter’em?

(Laughter) It was a joke band that never became a band. It was just something I would talk about all of the time, but it never came to be. It was supposed to be an all red head/ woman band, basically like a female Spinal Tap. It’s a comment on the music industry. I had these ideas of grandeur of how we would have all sorts of fake press on what manizers (think opposite of womanizer) we were and all of our shenanigans, artwork for ten albums that we released. In reality we had only five songs written and they were covers with new lyrics. Today, it could be a really funny play or a movie. I have a ton of stickers of the band’s logo. I even had the logo tattooed on my arm back then. My friend Marc just had the logo tattooed on her calf 30 years later. Too damn funny.

Stencil of Jill's fake band: Nuter'em. Photograph by author. 

You packed-up and moved to Germany. Was that part of a healing/distancing factor for you?

I had been trying to get rid of the Razer persona for a few years. I wanted to soften up. That really didn’t happen until I moved to Berlin. I was virtually unknown in Berlin, with the exception of the people/bands I went on tour with who lived there. I did a lot of growing and self-discovery there. I learned that I had a talent for teaching children and that I can work in a collective.

You moved from being a promoter to more or less a de facto gatekeeper of a certain time period of the Denver punk scene. Was it something you wanted to do or did it fall into your lap?

It was typical of me wanting to be in control. Plus, I’m a big softy and I wanted a way to stay connected with everyone from the past. It really was a great time in my life. Plus, I have a knack for keeping in touch with people and archiving. It just seemed natural to make the Denver Punk Scene Facebook page. I’m glad I did. I think many great things have come from it such as people getting back in touch with each other, amends being made, memories being shared, and us sharing what we accomplished.

You have love/hate relationship with the scene. Why do you think that is?

You’re right. I do. I guess I’m jaded. I saw so many fantastic bands back in the day but I don’t see a point in seeing them again because it will destroy those memories. I’ve tried to raise money to make a website dedicated to the Denver scene and I felt I was shat upon and didn’t get enough support. I still have the little bit of money waiting for that day where I will make a website dedicated to the scene and Phil The Fan. I don’t see the point of putting my blood sweat and tears into a project that no one gives a god damn about. l have many photos that haven’t seen the light of day.  I figure the page on Facebook will have to do until I get more people who will actually help me build this damn thing.

Special thanks to Monica Zarazua and Ana Medina for editing help. 

Headbanger: Denver's legendary punk promoter

Compared with the older kids in high school who were in bands and went to shows, I was low on the punk totem pole during my freshman year. At ninth grade orientation, a couple of the senior class new wave-y looking girls assisting the cameraman who was taking yearbook photos noted my new Kraut t-shirt. They asked if I went to the GBH/Kraut show a couple of weeks prior. They both giggled and said the older punks were going to beat me up. Great.

True, I did catch shit here and there from the older punks, but for the most part they tolerated me. One guy, Martin Day was exceptionally nice. He wore ripped jeans, a t-shirt, black leather motorcycle jacket adorned with a chain, perhaps a couple of spike studs, and punk band buttons. Martin knew a lot about bands and I tried to tag along his side whenever I could. One afternoon during lunch, he was having a conversation with the other punks about upcoming shows. Another punk in the group mentioned something about going to the “Headbanger” show that weekend. In my mind, I was thinking, why would punks want to hang out with headbangers; it was the unspoken rule that metal dudes totally sucked. Someone in the group had to clue me in that Headbanger was the name of the guy who promoted the punk shows in Denver.

Early Headbanger flier. Courtesy of Trash is Truth

That weekend I asked my dad to drive my friend Jimmy and I down to the show at the Packing House. I wondered if Headbanger was an actual headbanger. Before I totally understood what “irony” really meant, I had a pretty good grip on its implications. I thought the punkest thing anyone could do was call themselves something that seemed anti-punk. Jimmy and I paid at the door and walked into the space trying to guess who Headbanger was. Our money was on the guy behind the soundboard with longer hair, wearing a leather jacket, with a heavy fuck the world look on his face. He definitely looked like a road worn headbanger. We ran into Martin who was standing around drinking a beer with a friend. I asked him if that was Headbanger standing over there. He and his friend busted out laughing, “No, that’s Jimmy West of the Rok Tots!” (A couple of years later, Martin became the Rok Tots drummer.)

Martin later pointed out who the real “Tom” Headbanger was. He was nothing like I imagined. He had short hair, awkward mannerisms and made funny comments on stage between bands such as “don’t forget to tip your waitresses.”  Months later, I mustered up enough nerve to introduce myself to him at a show. I told him that I was an artist and that I could make fliers for his shows. He looked at me like I was crazy, but didn’t say “no” followed by he couldn’t pay me if I did. He stood there for a moment processing the idea and ended the conversation that maybe he’d get me into a show if I made a flier he used. I attempted a couple of fliers thereafter, but the drawings ending up the trash bin next to my desk.

Some Headbanger art. Collection on author

I always thought of Tom as more of a Denver punk celebrity. He seemed to have his hand in everything. He had conspicuous style that was signature of his fanzine and flier making. I always wanted to ask him if he was going for a car crash-pileup aesthetic by way of his haphazard approach of collaging his distinctive handwriting and borrowed (and sometimes drawn) images. He even dabbed in fronting the band Da Butcherz. He booked shows in the most unusual places: a junkyard, former car garage (Kennedy’s Warehouse), and everything in-between. The icing was his faux candidacy for the mayor of Denver. He was the poster child for embracing the Do-It-Yourself ethic, but more along the lines of: “Do what you can get away with.”

Tom Headbanger. Original Photograph: unknown Ink drawing: Bob Rob Medina

The most accurate way I would describe his personality on a public level is: a part-time smart-ass with biting commentary. I had a suspicion of those who didn’t like him were intimidated by his intelligence. In interviews he spared no one, calling people out on their ignorance or making far out statement about his knowledge of Nazism or his solutions to humanity. Either way, his outlandishness commanded further investigation. 

Headbanger's punk survey, a precursor to direct marketing. Courtesy of Jill Razer  

Tom was also daring, he possessed the instincts of a hustler by keeping one step ahead of systems that were in place or any person who tried to hinder his agenda. For glory or otherwise, his modus operandi was to make things happen. It was certain he always had a vision, a master plan for his undertakings. There was always a Headbanger story.

In the summer of 1985 I rode up to Boulder with a couple of friends to see a punk show at Gate 10 at Folsom Stadium on the CU Boulder campus. Gate 10 was hardly a club, it was a non-descript empty room tucked away on the side in one of the many entrances into the stadium. Someone had the foresight that it would be an ideal venue for live punk and hardcore music. Headbanger was running the show that particular evening.  

A couple of campus police officers arrived to investigate why loads of kids in leather jackets with crazy hairdos were hanging around the stadium. I stood off to the side and watched Headbanger skillfully explain to the officers that he was just a doorman hired to take “invitations” for the event. That was when two punks walked up to him ready to hand over a fistful of pocket change to gain entrance. As not to get outted for hosting and taking cash for a questionably legal show, he preemptively shouted out to the kids approaching the door asking them for their invitations. The pair stood there looking clueless, glancing down at their coins. He motioned for the kids to move over to the side. The campus cops nodded to one another and walked away wishing for something a little more exciting. With the officers in the distance, Headbanger gestured the kids to move forward. He took their money, stamped their hands, and ushered them inside the room. It was a trademark Headbanger moment.   

Finding places to hold shows in the Denver was a challenge. Tom was a master at it. When it came my turn to carry the torch and promote shows in the later part of the 80’s, I had many years of studying Headbanger’s strategies and techniques under my belt. Truth be told, we were hardly partners on crime. Our interactions consisted of friendly exchanges at shows. Yet, he was indirectly one of my mentors.

Da Butcherz. Original Photograph: Roger Morgan. Ink drawing: Bob Rob Medina 

I was fresh out of high school when I promoted my first show in 1987. I rented a VFW hall on East Colfax Ave. in Aurora and plastered Capitol Hill light poles with fliers. A year later I joined the Fraternal Order of the Eagles up in Thornton. The process for joining the lodge was buying a round of beers for a pair of old veterans camping out at the bar. They checked me up and down and signed off on my application. I did this all in the name of punk rock so I could book concerts in their dingy bingo hall. Count this as another trick of the trade I learned from Headbanger.

Tom inspired a whole generation of ad hoc Denver promoters: Razer, Brewer, Shane from Happy World, Becky from Lick It Up fanzine, and even the Denver Skins. Headbanger showed us that anyone with a little money and a lot of nerve could promote a show, make zines, or indulge in any wild inclinations to be creative within a music scene that had no rules or boundaries.  

As with almost every punk promoter, Tom had eventually ran his course. He, like other original Denver punks, either outgrew or became disillusioned with the growing violence within the scene. One fateful evening at the Packing House he was beaten to a pulp by a group of kids at one of his shows. He was done. He took his creative punk spirit and moved on to something different. He had a good run: creating something out of nothing for all of us who to went to his shows, saw his band, and read his fanzine. In the end, Tom left his blueprint for others to continue. His legend precedes him. 

Business card. Collection of Jill Razer 

Special thanks to Monica Zarazua and Ana Medina for editing help. 

Punx Unite Assholes Die: Hardcore, Violence, and the Denver Skins. Part 2

My previous post generated strong reactions, including a couple of people contacting me who I hadn’t talked with in decades. They were upset about what I wrote. Most of my audience is somehow connected to the Denver punk rock scene during the 1980’s. The loosely defined ethos of punk has been my life long commitment, I signed-up in 1982 and never looked back. I’m hardwired to its’ philosophy, which is at times contradictory and escapes definition. What the hell does punk rock mean? There are as many definitions as there are stories. My intentions aren’t to re-engage or relive the past, to hurt anyone, or to take sides. I’m a product of my father, a storyteller.  I write what is relevant and meaningful to me, the full spectrum of it. The purpose of this project is to document a time and place 30 years ago.

For some, those years were glorious, for others it is a painful period growing up. No matter what I post, there will always be two-sides. Many of us did fucked-up things, hurt people, broke the law, and engaged in other antisocial behaviors. Not everyone lived long enough, either by choice or by circumstance, to reflect on what happened all those years ago. Some former punks and skins became religious/spiritual, or got heavier into self-medicating. Others simply walked away.

There is the present: spouses, children, jobs, and everything that comes with adulthood. During our teenage years we go through the process of figuring out our shit through making series of choices. There is no doubt we made bad decisions during that time, perhaps some we’d like to take back or some we would make differently knowing what we know now. We’ll never know. I don’t want to author something that might cause someone to lose their job, the way I wouldn’t smash windows and slash the van tires of a band who’s politics I didn’t agree with. Life is tough, nowadays most of us are just trying to put food on the table. The less bullshit the better.  

Punx Unite, Assholes Die was a song on Happy World’s second album. It was a response to the increasing violence happening at the shows in Denver. The guitarist of the band and later promoter, like most people in the scene just wanted to go see shows, play music and have fun. Promoters didn’t want to lose their deposit because some kid kicked holes into bathroom walls or took a marker and tagged the place. Even Oxnard’s (and later Denver’s) Aggression in their song S.A.T.C. (Slamming At The Club) sing “then came something to fuck up our scene, assholes who throw bottles to prove that they’re mean, kicking holes in the wall don’t mean that you’re cool, when the place is close you’ll know you’re the fool.”

Happy World. Original Photograph: unknown Ink drawing: Bob Rob Medina 

As the violence at punk shows was deepening nation wide, Maximum RockNRoll ran an article in Issue 14 Breaking the Silence on Gang Violence. It featured interviews with members of BASH (Bay Area Skinheads) alongside other punks and skins. The gist of the various articles stated members in scenes across the country were being marginalized by bullies though acts of aggression. The fanzine’s publisher, Tim Yohannan, felt the values of punk were being compromised by a handful of people who were going to shows for the sole purpose of instigating violence. The issue invited participants and observers from different sides to share their opinions and thoughts on the subject. Although the interviews brought the topic out into the open, the violence not only continued but intensified.

“I thought Punk was my calling, I thought I was in it for life. Then I’m at a show and there is all this in-fighting, it was really fucked-up. I’m thinking we should be fighting against society, the system, or whatever but not each other. I thought the violence at shows was just the stupidest shit. That is when I realized I didn’t need to keep going to shows. Punk stopped evolving.” This sentiment was stated by a longtime member of the scene and is shared by many former Denver punks I have spoken with when approaching them about my project. Most are happy to tell endless stories about this and that, but in the same regard don’t want to go on record or use their names in interviews. I respect their decision and privacy.

In the mid-90’s when I first brought up the subject of writing a book about the Denver punk scene, most people were readily excited to contribute. In my initial research I observed that all the stories were funny, centered on bands that came through town. Someone always had a cute story about the Exploited or G.B.H, which have their own merit. However, the stories lacked a pulse on what it was like growing up punk in Denver. To arrive at this point, hard questions had to be asked with serious reflections.

Our selective memories have blacked out some of the darker moments in the scene. There were wild nights of heavy drinking, drugs, fistfights, pistol-whipping all to the soundtrack of fast and angry music. The more secluded the venue was, like the Packing House or somewhere down on Larimer St., the more potential for a volatile evening. The main culprit was the increase in the number of skinheads. By 1985, they adopted a more gang like mentality. They had power in numbers backed by an aggressive demeanor and controlled the temperament of most hardcore shows. The skins were a pack of sorts, bonded in unity and ready to pound someone at the slightest incitement. The dance floor grew more gruesome; it became like a slugfest. The skins had a reputation of taking cheap shots at audience members trying to watch and enjoy bands. One person I spoke with said, “Sometimes it was hard to get into watching a band, I was constantly looking over my shoulder.” A few bystanders tried to hold their ground but more often than not were met with flying fists and all signs of dissonance quashed immediately. 

Crowd at a show. Original Photograph: unknown Ink drawing: Bob Rob Medina  

The music shifted and became secondary to what was happening in the crowd. In my opinion, the music ceased to be original and adopted a more homogenized sound to serve the punks and skins decked out in their uniforms. This might explain the mass exodus of the original Denver punks. “Why would I want to go to shows anymore, what’s the point of seeing your friends get punched in the face for having fun.”

One might ask why did people give up their power and let acts of violence become a staple at shows? Why did people allow violence to continue when hardcore/skinhead bands like Agnostic Front sang about punks and skins being “united and strong” together against the system? Many felt the whole unity thing was a charade, words without meaning or substance. The irony was that bullies within the scene were keeping their own kind down. From what, the same type of power we were fighting against?

Dr. Know (Big Slug) Public Service Announcement #1. From the fanzine 60 Miles North. Artist: Jamie Hernandez 1983. Collection of author.  

Any type of group, skins, punks, or whatever has a hierarchy just like society. How did we ever think it would be any different? Those who possess power will impose it on the weakest members of a group. When the bottom rises to the top, the cycle repeats itself.

Many of the former Denver punks easily point the finger at the skinheads for “ruining” the scene. It would be just as easy to condemn those who stood idly by and passively let it happen. Annie, author of Archy-Type Morality stated in one of her issues regarding the CH3/Samhain show where promoter Tom Headbanger was severely beaten that Denver didn’t have a Nazi problem. The problem was rooted in uncontrolled drug use and testosterone. Her angle was Denver had a cool little scene, but it grew into a monster because it didn’t keep itself in check.  

Archy-Type Morality Issue 10 gig review. Collection of author. 

Everyone wants to be at the top. Young impressionable punks witnessed the power the older skins had. Within a period of a couple of years, the number of flight jackets and Doc Martins swelled. The Denver Skins made their own t-shirts adorned with a giant iron cross and printed business cards stating “the few, the proud, the Nazis. It was initially an inside joke. People called them Nazis. Jello Biafra popularized the term “Nazi Punks"; it was a slight on the mentality that punks should be one big happy family. When in fact the origins of punk are all about individuality, questioning everything, including the mighty Jello. No offense to him, he only spoke his mind and others followed. I can see why the original skins wanted to distance themselves from any textbook punk definition. One of the Denver skins stated, “Why did everyone have fit into one of Jello’s little punk category?” When the skins carved out their own identity, some members of the scene labeled them as Nazis, and they embraced it.

Willig Comic fanzine Dec. 1983. Collection of author. 

When Black Flag rolled through Denver in 1984, someone gave Henry Rollins one of the Denver Skins business cards. He read it to the audience between songs and proceeded to tear it in half. He then called them weak and challenged the group asking to take on the toughest one. The audience went into a frenzy chanting anti-skin slogans. Where Jello failed, perhaps Rollins would succeed. Rollins wearing nothing but gym shorts jumped off the stage while the rest of the band and roadies stood at the edge waiting. Rollins stood face to face with one of the skins backed by his posse. Nothing happened other than an exchange of words. The music resumed and the Denver punks were offered a temporary refrain from violence that evening.

I find it a bit ironic that it took a punk celebrity to address Denver’s internal bullying. Concert promoter Razer stated that the punks got what they deserved for not standing up for themselves at shows, “If you act like a victim, then I’ll fuck with you!”

Thanks to Monica Zarazua and Ana Medina for editing help.