Chris Ortiz

I didn’t come from a scene where I felt like a minority as I was a poor kid like everyone else. I grew up in the San Antonio scene. It is predominantly made up of Latino skins, punks, hardcore kids, rude boys, etc. There were very few white faces that I saw at shows that didn’t belong to touring bands. That or maybe I just didn’t really associate with white kids because they weren’t from my part of town or didn’t dress like me. Most infighting within the scene seemed more concentrated on what crew you ran with rather than racial beefs. It threw me for a loop at first being that all you hear about from the media is that we are all a bunch of racist assholes. It wasn’t until I moved to Oklahoma City in the late 90’s that I began to feel like a minority. It’s no secret OKC had some nazi elements to its scene, but I wasn’t treated terribly. It was hard to wrap my mind around it. I figure that it was more along the lines that some of these guys grew up together so they didn’t give a fuck what their friend’s politics were.The event that began my shift in politics was the day I attended an anti-immigration rally. I became obsessed with militia groups like “The Minutemen Project.” When I approached them with one of my white friends, they wouldn’t look me in the eye nor give me the time of day. They gave her literature and she threw it away. It began a self-reflection. I got used to hearing things like “Aaron’s one of the good ones” and it made me start thinking about if I was just a token minority to some people. I began questioning all the things that I once held so dear to my heart. You find out really quick who your friends are when you are deep in the gutter of life.

I decided that I should reevaluate my life and that led me on the path to going to school. I’ve always loved education but never thought I would have the money to go. I use to also have this idea that universities were for rich liberal cesspools. My ideas on that have somewhat changed. If there’s anything that will make you rethink your politics, it’s being surrounded by the people you may not have liked in the past. It’s easy to hate someone when you don’t know them face to face. I have met and had conversations with people of different races, religions, sexual orientations, political affiliations...etc. I sat with an Iraqi in history class and we traded history notes about what he was taught and what I was taught. There’s no better place than to have that open dialogue than in an educational environment or serving in the military.

I’ve learned to embrace myself, my Latino culture, and the moments that have shaped me. I’ve allowed myself to dream. I don’t just talk about the “America” I want based on my old flawed politics in a scene, but I’m a better citizen that contributes to my community through service work.

There has never been a time in my life when music wasn’t a driving force. When I was younger I was convinced that I was going to be a famous musician as an adult. My sister and I would stand on the hearth in front of my parents’ fireplace and put on shows for our family. I even had teachers send home notes to my mom telling her I needed to quit singing and disrupting people in the middle of class. I was always “on” and so was my stereo.

As I got older I started realizing that it was music in general that I loved, not just performing, or for lack of a better word, showing off. I went to my first concert in a dive bar when I was 13 and that opened the door to my love of music, but punk music especially. The sheer joy that I felt in that moment was a feeling that I never wanted to get rid of. The pulsing of the music in the speakers, the throng of bodies moving to the beat, the sweaty smiles coming from every direction. That became my drug of choice and I’ve been chasing that high ever since.

I’ve seen the Casualties, the Descendents, ALL, MU330, Black Flag, the Distillers. I honestly couldn’t even tell you all of them anymore. The Casualties was the first, though. When I was about 14, a friend of the family sent me a care package from the record company she was working for at the time, OneSideDummy. I got CDs and posters from the Casualties, Flogging Molly and Piebald. I was sold. I dyed my hair black and bought my first jean jacket that month.

In my late teens/early twenties I went to as many shows as I could. I started working more so that I could always afford to see the better bands that came through Kansas. Around the time I was 26, I was actually working three jobs to support my show habit. One of them happened to be in a little dive in Topeka called the Boobie Trap. By working there, I was able to see as much new live music as I could possibly take in, and I was also invited to become involved in the scene.

So, I started booking bands. That grew to an even more intense love and appreciation for the scene that my friends and I had already worked so hard to support. Now I was helping it to expand and grow. However, as much fun as it can be, it’s not easy being a woman in the booking scene. There are times when people don’t take you very seriously. It’s a very male dominated industry. Even still, when things do work out and the stars align and you book a show where the bands and the fans are both pleased, it’s once of the best feelings in the world. To know that you brought someone else the same sort of happiness that this music made you feel is one of the best feelings in the world.

Currently I’m backing off from booking so that I can take more time to enjoy the shows I go to rather than organizing them. I do still book the entertainment for the First Friday parties at the bar where I’m working, and I still help find shows for bands who reach out to me, but mostly I’m just back to basics. I’m enjoying getting to be a spectator again. I will always be happiest standing in the middle of a crowd watching someone talented do what they love.

Music has always been a huge part of my life. I got lucky. I have punk parents. I grew up with punk. I remember going through my first shitty junior high school breakup. My old man gave me a copy of Descendents’ ALL record. I think that was the first time that I really connected to the music. That album is life-changing for me. From that point on, it was all about finding music that made me feel that connection again. Without punk, I wouldn’t have met two of my best friends, Stefan and Jenna. We’ve been roommates for over a year now. My roommate and I have been playing music of our own for nearly 2 years, and our band Ballistic Biscuit will have an EP out soon. Music has always meant a lot to me, and to attempt to describe in writing the emotion behind it has proven difficult. I know it’s cliché, but that shit can really pick you up when you’re down. And I can’t imagine a life without it. I’ve been trying to be better about carrying earplugs with me, for a fear of losing my hearing.

Before taking these photos, Chris asked me what was the defining moment or feeling I got when I was introduced to punk rock? I actually remember it quite vividly. I was at my best friend Ryan “Rux” Watkins’ house. It was 6th grade and we were just 2 aggro little skate rats watching dubbed VHS skate videos. He grabs this cassette and puts it in the VCR. It was the Minor Threat’s show from DC and I was just blown away. Now I had heard and loved metal, I was fortunate enough to have a dad that listened to Sabbath and The Who and Jethro Tull. All great music in its own right. There was just something different about punk that resonated so heavily with me. It wasn’t melodic, it didn’t have ballads or weave stories like Iron Maiden (who I love btw), it wasn’t dramatic and polished like Kiss. This shit was raw, bare bones aggression and heartfelt in every way. All the inner angst, pain, confusion, trauma, abandonment, hostility that I didn’t know how to process at that age was all wrapped up in this amazing thing I’d discovered. This shit was ours and ours alone. It didn’t matter that I was poor, or my parents were divorced with addiction and abuse issues. I was accepted wholeheartedly and it was real. All I needed was my skateboard, a few good friends, and my music. To this day I love nothing more than watching these younger cats embrace what shaped me into the person I am today. Ya know, there’s this instant connection of brother/sisterhood when you meet another punk that you will not find anywhere. I knew exactly who I was and no one could tell me any differently. It wasn’t a phase, “sorry mom”, I didn’t grow out of it. I grew because of it. If anyone has ever said “I used to be punk” you never were. It’s not about the clothes or a mohawk. I wasn’t wearing a pair of boots and a battle vest the first time I heard punk rock, but in that instant my whole world changed forever. Now in my 43 years on this earth there have been a lot of defining moments in my life. Fatherhood of course, being a tattooer obviously. Punk rock though…took all those feelings of a confused kid and gave him purpose, an escape, and a voice. Now as the “old guy” (lol) in the scene I have the opportunity to give back to something that has given me so much. Through outreach and recovery work I’m able to help save some of these kids. Being a sober punk isn’t something that a lot of them see or are used to and that’s ok. It just falls on us older cats that have been through it to help them navigate the waters. To hold on to that very first feeling and memory of why we feel in love w(ith) punk in the first place…with nothing but love n respect…Damon…

Growing up, I always found myself outside of the norm. I've never been the cookie cutter type. From a very young age, streaking down the sidewalk, I have and continue to always push the limits, not because i crave attention, but more so because I believe that an individual can only true grow when they are forced out of their comfort zone. It is in those uneasy, uncomfortable moments that great things happen. I’m a very dedicated, competitive person. Even in school, I had to be top of the class. I grew up in a tiny town, where everyone knew everyone, and rumors were assumed to be the gospel truth. It's because of this, i found myself escaping that injustice every weekend by going to the skating rink in a neighboring town. From a young age, skating become a therapy for me, something i refer to as my 8-wheel peace. When i put on my skates, no matter how difficult the day has been, therapeutically, I find myself in a sense of euphoric happiness, much like meditation. Living in the midwest -- skating outdoors is limited -- and therefore wanting to continue to skate all year around became an obstacle, as most rinks are for younger kids and school parties. This is when i turned to roller derby. It became a way for me to skate as often as i wanted, but also tapped into that competitive drive of mine. I immediately wanted to be the best. I became obsessed with the sport and the environment that it was trying to foster. You see, as a very assertive, blunt, competitively driven, yet motivational individual -- it's hard to fit in and be accepted. You add all my tattoos and the fact that i am gay to that… its a recipe for judgement and disgust. Roller Derby is a community where all individuals are welcomed. It is a place that empowers individuals to become the best, strongest, most badass versions of themselves, or atleast, i believe that is what they are trying to do. Personally, in the last 9 years of my life, I have been through some very difficult times, very dark places. Having roller derby in my life, being able to “skate it out,” has helped bring me off the ledge multiple times. I’ve, unintentionally, created bonds and made lasting friends from the sport, found my partner because of it, and have found a higher sense of self than ever imaginable. I am now, in the best shape of my life and it's only going to get better. I will always be a skater at heart. And I am thankful for the ability to do it, be apart of it. The road to my skating success is always under construction and i will continue to stay open minded, try things that scare me, and push the limits in any and every way possible. Because the key to better skating, is skating better. And well, honestly, LIFE IS BETTER ON ROLLER SKATES!

There is a point in every single persons life that they can say defines who they are as a person for the rest of their life despite the natural changes of the world and such…so I guess this is mine. I didn’t come from just any family dynamic, in fact, it was more twisted then I even thought at first. It was my first lesson in pain, sadness, anger, suffering, and most importantly…acceptance. I was raised a Jehovah’s Witness but lived in a world of clouded doubt and denial of what was being shoved in my face. Most kids have a boogeyman. Mine was my father. Enough to the fact I can’t honestly say he’s human. But when you are terrified for your life knowing at any moment, he could have and would have taken my life just as fast as it was given. I guess its true… What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and after 12 years, I finally had enough and made the choice that it was going to be my life goal to be everything that my father was not, and it has yet to fail me. But due to that decision, I happened to discover punk rock. I discovered I wasn’t alone in my fight and I felt like I was actually where I needed to be. And my ascent into adulthood was the most defining moments of my life. For once, I saw the world for what it really was and learned some painful lessons. 5 years of drug abuse took everything from me. I lost my friends, my brother, my entire support system, and my self image. If it wasn’t for punk, I would have been eaten alive in the real world. It became so important to me that I knew it was what I wanted to be till it was my time to leave this world behind. Its an indescribable and unshakable feeling of knowing this is who you are. It was who I was and wanted to be. So yeah, I guess you could say without a doubt, Punk Rock Saved My Life and it is the only reason I am alive to this day. Its given me some of my favorite memories and helped me meet some of my favorite people. So as I look at this picture, I just have one thing more to say, one of my favorite quotes ever by the author Clive Barker.

“Be regular and orderly in your life, that you may be violent and original in your work” -Clive Barker

I grew up in a town called Waterbury, CT. , it was about a about 30 minutes from Hartford and a little over an hour to New York City. I grew up listening to music and my dad used to take us to the Racetrack and we would see Count Basie, Bob Hope, Dizzy Gillespie, all these old players and so that was really my first experience with live music. That brought me into the whole rock-n-roll scene. There was some older kids on my street and one of them was really into Metal. I got into Def Leopard, and I camped out for tickets, my dad let me because I had good grades, and I ended up buying tickets for the Def Leopard show. Then I kind of realized if you bought decent seats, you could trade up your seats. So, this is where my head was when I was 12 and 13. So I started to go to other shows, Van Halen, The Firm, Iron Maiden. Then, when I was about 14, I really started to go from Iron Maiden into Slayer into Metallica, it was a total transition. Metallica was a huge influence and so was Slayer; and they had COC (Corrosion of Conformity) and DRI and Suicidal Tendencies shirts. So naturally, I picked up on that and I started collecting records when I was 14. So I picked up Suicidal Tendencies and Corrosion and DRI and that’s when I kind of took that step into Punk Rock. From that point, there wasn’t really any turning back.The first show that I can recall was DRI…I take that back the first show was COC, DRI didn’t show for the show, so I saw Corrosion of Conformity and that was the first time I saw people stage diving, and this was at the Enfield Roller Rink in Enfield, CT. You would sign up on the mailing list and I found out about the show from the record stores. You know we would go to the record stores every week or every other week, so I got on the mailing list and the next thing you know I’m going to see Suicidal Tendencies, which was pretty unbelievable at 15 to see Suicidal, especially at that point, in that era. This was 1985. This was my year, and from there I started to go to The Anthrax in Norwalk (CT), and EVERYONE played The Anthrax back then; Agnostic Front, Murphy’s Law, The Circle Jerks, The Exploited. I mean, we saw everyone. There was another venue in New Haven (CT) that I went to a couple of shows at too, that I don’t recall, but I pretty much was at that point going to punk rock shows every weekend, whether it was in New Haven or if it was in Enfield, whether it was at the Anthrax, and that was our hang. And then when I turned 16, I started taking my car to CBGBs on Sundays. I would finish my paper routes, cause I had like four or paper routes (I was making $250 a week when I was 16 years old, it was crazy) and we would do that in the morning on Sundays, jump in the car, collect all my money, and by 11:30 or 12 I would grab everyone up, and there would be a crew of us and we would go to CBs on Sundays. They used to have a matinee, and it was 16 and over on Sundays, and they carded, and a couple of my buddies in the back had fake IDs, to get into CBGBs on Sundays, 14-year-old pretending to be 16. We would go to CBs and catch Dag Nasty or Corrosion of Conformity, or Token Entry or Agnostic Front, or Murphy’s Law, Sick of it All, Side by Side. The New York Hardcore scene was amazing, and it was a great culture to be apart of. I felt like I got the best of both worlds because once I started to do that I would go see the Bad Brains at the 1018, or I would go to the Rock Hotel to see Slayer or we would go to L’Amour and see Overkill or Carnivore or King Diamond. There was so many experiences, and I was so fortunate in that era. We did all of our record shopping in New York. We’d go to Some Records and Bleecker Bob’s. So that was really my kind of intro to Punk Rock in those early years on the East Coast.

I've been going to band practice and concerts since I was in the womb. My dad is a bass player. My dad played a lot of shows and had weekly band practice almost my entire childhood. He and my mom would go to concerts all the time. I got to see Rush live when I was like 13, and my dad always made sure I got to see my favorite bands when they would come to Kansas City. From Spice Girls to Les Claypool. There isn't much to do other than drugs once you hit your teenage years in St Joseph, MO, so when The Scallywag opened during high school, I was there as often as I could be. It was an all ages venue that had a lot of pop punk, screamo, and all kinds of "alternative" bands roll through in the short time that it was open. There was a talent show at school my sophomore year, and I saw a group of guys I knew cover Astro Zombies, and was quickly obsessed with The Misfits. I started hanging out with those dudes and found myself at their band practices quite frequently. Their band was called Milwaukee's Beast and after a what seemed like 20 different singers, they split up, like bands do. But I remained friends with all of them and got to see them go through other bands and projects. They taught me all the "entry level" punk and ska bands. And I tagged along with my brother through the metal scene, watching him drum for countless bands until he started playing with a power metal band called Alsatia. The guys in Alsatia happened to know our cousin Cody, who is the guitarist and singer for The Uncouth. I moved to Overland Park to go to hair school, I was a wee baby punk, and Cody invited me to an all ages show behind Video Mania on Westport Rd. I was amazed when I showed up and wasn't the only chick with a mohawk. No one was staring at me or giving me dirty looks, and everyone was dekt from head-to-toe in studs and patches. I watched The Uncouth's set while sitting in the back of someone's truck pulled up right in front of the band and drinking a beer that nobody carded me for. They covered Where Eagles Dare and I screamed the chorus back at Cody with my fist in the air, and I knew instantly that's where I was supposed to be.After hair school, I moved back to St Joseph and suffered through a terribly abusive relationship, but music still seemed to be the only normal thing in my life. My brother was in another band with my ex and some of the friends from my high school days. For my 21st birthday they played a show and covered a bunch of punk songs I loved like Roots Radical and Punk Rock Girl. They even learned a Russian birthday song! It was an appropriate 21st for any punk chick in a small town. I drank, I danced, I threw up and passed out in my best friend's bed.A couple months later, my relationship ended, and I was back in Overland Park at my mom's. I was stoked to be 21 because that meant I could go see my brother's shows at bars and I would ask him all the time if there was anything I could tag along to. The metal scene and the punk scene bled into each other a bit so I eventually wound up at my cousin Cody's house for parties and certain bars for lots of different punk DJ nights. We all hung out at Dave's Stagecoach and then Black And Gold, that eventually became Vandals Punk Rock Club. I was best friend's with the bartender/manager at the time and would go there most nights just to see all my friends. I had my 23rd birthday party there. My favorite band Sister Mary Rotten Crotch played! If you ever need to be yelled at by a hot bitch that could definitely kick your ass, look them up.I got pregnant when I was 21, so I've missed quite a few shows and parties while I was busy creating and raising my tiny human, Edgar. But one more punk in the world is a can’t hurt, right? Edgar is 5 now, and sometimes goes to all ages shows. He's seen Cousin Cody play a couple of times. Cody also has a son around the same age. The boys like to pal around at shows and play frisbee with old drumheads. I’m looking forward to the future of the KC punk scene, even if it seems to only be in the basements of punk houses right now. Haha

Lolo is a 23 year old Canadian based pop-punk musician, signed onto Hopeless Records. The image was taken on her first ever tour, which happened to be in the United States, opening up for the “Pop Punk’s Not Dead Tour” featuring acts like Less Than Jake and New Found Glory. She said that she is not sure how she was introduced to punk rock, but when she was about 6 or 7, the first CD that she got was Green Day’s American Idiot and became obsessed with it, playing it over and over again, and then soon finding Avril Lavgine’s Let Go.

I moved out of my house during my senior year of high school. Up until this point I really wasn't going or hanging out with friends a lot, I hadn't been to many shows. I think the first one was The Dead Milkmen. We snuck in. For a while, I was living with some guys in their darkroom. I paid rent by cleaning the house for them (I don't think I did such a great job) Some of these guys were involved with the local radio station, KJHK, and they were friends with a lot of bands, so there were always parties at our house, or at someone's house, and there was always a band to see. I met a lot of punk kids at these parties, and we were friends with some of the MAP kids as well. I eventually moved in with a friend from school, we had sorta an open house policy I guess, we let pretty much anyone crash there if they needed..the windows were always unlocked for kids to crawl in and there were mattresses on the floor. We would hang out on porches, drink thunderbird and whiskey and do each other's hair, take pictures, talk. Even though there were a lot of house parties to crash, the Outhouse was where we really wanted to be. We'd get dressed up, pile into someone's car, bring some drinks and head east on 15th until we saw that cornfield. We'd wait and hang out till the bands started and be there all night. I saw some amazing bands there, that was a great time for me. 

I remember one time a few of us decided to go to Hutchinson, Ks.  because my friend said he knew a girl he we could stay with for a while. Well, we all piled on the back of a truck, in the winter, and drove there. it was stupid cold, we were under blankets and tarps and there was ice on the truck, it was so cold! We get there, and it turns out that it's the wrong house. Even though we all looked crazy with our torn up clothes and bright hair, the people let us in till we found someone who let us crash. We were there a week or so, all crammed in a tiny place sleeping on the floor and eating ramen everyday.

Love Garden had just opened, I was friends with the owners at the time and a bunch of us would hang out up there on the couches and listen to records. That was always a lot of fun, those guys always were super cool. I love art, I love creating art, whether it's an actual piece to display, or hair, clothing, etc. I think the scene at the time really fed that desire to be creative in every way for me, the music, the people, the friendships, the wild craziness of that time was important to me, it allowed me to feel comfortable with the way I saw myself.

Once I became pregnant with my daughter, I guess I sort of backed away from everything, I was really focussed on getting myself together and in a better place for her. I maintained a few of those friendships, several of the people I liked the most have died, and some moved. But those few years that I was so immersed in that little "scene" really made an impact on my life. I realized I could just let myself shine, the way I wanted to, and it was ok. I have so many great memories of the people I hung out with, the late night conversations, the dumpster diving, hair dye disasters, the parties and the bands, the fights and the laughter.

I wouldn't trade those years for anything.

“I got out of a bad marriage 6 months ago. He hated live music and was very controlling, which is why I went from seeing 2-3 shows a week to nothing for 7 years. I was diagnosed with lymphoma when I was 23, 9 years ago. The scars on my neck are from all of the biopsies, the scars on my chest are from the 3 power ports I’ve had surgically implanted over the years for chemo, etc. I’m a chronic relapser, so it never truly goes away, but I’m going on 3 years in remission now. Being so close to death for so long has given me a weird way of seeing life. I don’t give a fuck what people think, especially when they stare at my scars. Life is too short to care about that sort of thing, so I refuse to cover them up. I used to be into punk music in high school, but lost touch when I broke up with this punker dude I was dating. I needed some guidance. So when Josh and I started hanging out, he would give me his iPod to take to work. I went hog wild. I loved it all. I love the energy, I love the attitude, I love the loudness. I love how unapologetically opinionated and political it is. But most of all, I love that punk music is about connection; acceptance.Ever since I can remember, I always wanted to wear combat boots and floral dresses - super 90s style. but didn’t really have the confidence until I was in my mid-20s. Now it’s what I wear most of the time.
[The cancer is] Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I ignored all the symptoms and kept partying. A huge tumor popped under my clavicle, which I only noticed when I got syrup on it when I was working as a barista. Ended up at stage 4 by the time I started chemo the 1st time. That means that the tumors were everywhere (above and below the diaphragm) and I was symptomatic in every way. Each treatment works, Just not for long. Sometimes I get 6 months, sometimes years. The side effects from the treatments stay with me. New problems. But I’m alive. Each day that I wake up is a good day.”

" I’m not sure." I replied. " I don’t feel right. Like something is off." She looked at me and shook her head. Pinched up her lip, cocked her brow and said something to the tune of "just relax. It’s cool." It's cool. Yeah. It's cool. Then. It hit me. Like a tons of fat kid stage divin’ ass, it hit me. "It’s too fuckin’ safe."

I was in Nashville 2014. Seeing some no name local punk rock show with a band I didn’t know but I had seen 1000 times in other cities and other times. I was far from my home punk scene of Lawrence Kansas. Even though the Outhouse was long gone and some of my favorite local bands were defunct I have a healthy respect for my scene because it will set your ass straight when it needs to.

Back in Nashville my date turns to me and says.. Are you gonna make it?"

"Yes" I said....."it’s just.. It’s just I don’t feel like I’m gonna get stabbed or nothing."

"Umm? Ok." Is all she said.

"It’s too safe. I don’t feel any energy in the room. Nobody is into it."

Punk Rock has become safe and I fuckin hate it. See I’m from a scene that was dangerous. Punk Rock to me will be and should be dangerous. To me, to you and to the sleeping giants of society that wont see the revolution coming. Punk Rock should feel like you might get stabbed in the bathroom. It means you might have to boot party a Nazi to round out the night. It means vomit in your car and sticky shit on your boots. It was visceral and greasy. There was not a god damned thing safe about it. Except your friends. Even some of those rat bastards would steal your mom's credit card and bang your sister. Back in the day my scene was known for bands that were notorious for doing unspeakable things to farm animals on stage. Hell one front man used to cram marshmallows up his butt. Bands like Kill Whitey, Cocknoose, Filthy Jim, Mopar Funeral, The Unknown Stuntman, bands that were in your face and dangerous. God forbid that one night would go by without some dip shit getting his head kicked in for whatever we could think of at the moment. It was awesome. I remember tripping at shows and having a religious experience in a corn field while D.I. or Toxic Reasons blared as the twisted soundtrack. It was an angry teen's Valhalla. There was sheer bliss and Anarchy and unabashed freedom.

Then, you had to prove it. When rednecks and cops came calling you stood and fought them. When you caught the jocks and bullies from school in your environment you taught them a lesson. Frat boys be damned.

But now it’s safe. Punk Rock should never be safe. Punks were meant to destroy. Now teachers and moms have blue hair and its kitschy. People with corporate jobs have tattoos and piercings and no one bats an eye. Somewhere there are real punks left. Street level. In a part of town your blue haired mom won’t go to. Somewhere there are loud guitars and blood and beer on the floor. There is a kid writhing on a makeshift stage screaming shitty poetry over feedback and dull drums. There are scars and drugs and fear. If you listen to corporate "punk" have blue hair and Hot Topic jewelry and have never been punched in the mouth by a skinhead or better yet punched one yourself you are not a punk. You are bullshit. Live a little. Start your revolution. Tear it all down. Safety is for the weak. If there isn’t blood on you or the band it was a shitty show. Pick up a guitar. Scream to the world. Safety is for complacent pigs. Stand up for your freedom. Wanna be a punk? Bleed for it. Show me the scars. Freedom isn’t free.

I wish my story was as cool as some of these other folks but unfortunately I was born a little too late to see all of the legends in concert. In 8th grade I had "Government"(ironic right?) for my first hour class, this kid in my class, Chris, was wearing a Dead Kennedys shirt. I wasn't too familiar with Punk but I knew who the DKs were (thanks Tony Hawk Pro Skater) and liked them so I complimented his shirt and him and I soon became best friends.

Chris's dad was an old school punk so Chris started introducing me to bands like The Clash, Sex Pistols, Bad Religion, NOFX, ect. They were a good change of pace from the sad boy emo shit I was listening to at the time.

A few years later, I stumbled across the "We Are All We Have" music video by The Casualties and God damn I must have watched it a couple hundred of times AT LEAST. Street Punk quickly became my obsession, it was loud, it was fast, it was angry, and it made me feel alive.

I struggled really hard with untreated mental illness growing up, PTSD from being sexually abused as a child resulted in pretty severe depression and I was full of anger and relentless hatred for myself. Punk gave me an outlet to release some of the pressure that was building up inside of me, it showed me that it was okay to be angry, it was okay to feel the way I felt, but most importantly it showed me that I wasn't alone.

Now, growing up I had no idea Punk came in so many different forms, I discovered Street Punk in High school and was obsessed with it so I was always looking for new bands to shatter my ear drums to.

I went to a little Alternative High School and I remember one day my Math teacher, Miss Berg, pulled me aside and said

"Hey there's this band I really think you would enjoy but their music isn't really school friendly so I can't exactly play them for you. BUT I printed out the lyrics from one of their songs for you to read over to see if you like them and if you do you can look them up when you get home."

She then hands me a page of lyrics from the song Sexist Appeal by Aus-Rotten, I read them over and was like "this is fucking awesome" and after school that day I went home and looked them up online and to this day they're still one of my favorite crust-punk bands. It's one of my favorite "how I got into punk" stories, big shout out to Miss Berg for fueling the fire that is my love for Punk Rock and being a phenomenal teacher.

…I’m like “are you fucking kidding me? It’s goddamn 11:30, and it was like the first song.” Some people were still like “okay shut it down, don’t want to cause any problems” others were like “Fuck the cops, keep playing, keep playing”. I was young and really stupid and was like “fuck that” and turned it all the way up. And you have to understand, that when you have all of these amps cranked up, already overload the power in the house, the drummer desperately beating away trying to be heard, it’s crazy. And the cops showed up upstairs and started slamming little, we had a lot of what I called Smurf Punks, already in the scene, which would come into their own really later when the Outhouse really got going. But at the time house party scene, and they were as cute as a button little 12-19 year old girls who put on the mohawks and the makeup and they did all the shit, but they were beloved. There was once a woman named Jackie who was a waif of a girl to start with, and this was a period of the Lawrence Law Enforcement where Ron Olin was the police chief, and he just hired them dumb and strong and let’s put some force out there and really do things. So they already overreached. But this cop slammed Jackie up against the wall hard, I saw her head bounce off it and to be honest they were waiting up these stairs to this dorm room thing, that was so packed with people. These people were accidentally purposefully spilling their beers on the cops and the floor was filled with cigarette butts and spilled beer, so they were on edge also. But I have to say it was definitely an overreach. About the time they slammed Jackie up against the wall I turned it off and quit playing. I watched all of this from right there, and I was called to testify in court. But what they did was there was this guy who was five years older than me, Phillip Heying, and he had just nailed down a study abroad thing in France and he was a photographer and he just got a REALLY nice 35mm camera, and I suppose this would have been in ’84. He had spent a lot of money, and it was his deal, he was finally going to go on this thing, but he had been snapping picture of these bands. I wish to god I had that film stock now because he documented some amazing stuff. And when the cops started throwing up little kids against the wall, he started taking pictures of it and the cops, I remember because he was near me, the cops came over and fought through a wave of five or six people and got to him and started beating the fuck out of him and took his camera and their idea was to open the back, expose the film and erase it, because he was taking pictures of them doing things that are not really cool. And they cop was too stupid to get it open and he ended up throwing the camera on the ground and started stomping on it till he broke the fuck out of it and then wrenched the back of it open, pulled the film out of it, held it up to the overhead red lights and ruined the film and then threw it back down on the beer stained floor. This is what I got called into testify for because in the end they charged Phil with obstruction of justice and a worse charge of assault on a law enforcement officer. They claimed that because he was taking the photos with a flash, which he did have on his camera, was him attempting to obstruct justice.

I was always into dressing up at Halloween and I loved all things spooky from a young age. My mom knew I loved Halloween and she bought me KISS’s Love Gun LP when I was like 6-7 because she thought they looked like Halloween characters (she has no idea what they sounded like). That LP is what opened me up to the world of heavy metal and also years later is what made me want to play bass.I started skating at a very young age, which meant I was going all over town and discovering places like my local record store.The alternative record store in my home town of Sioux Falls was called “Ernie November”. This became a place I went to every day. I just felt at home there. I started buying records and tapes based off their album covers. “Does it look cool??? YES”, then I bought it. I was always looking for new things to skate to. Side note: Little did I know I’d work at Ernie November later in life for 12 years.When I was 13 I went to my first real concert, AC/DC and Queensryche. It blew my mind. The energy, the show and the pure loudness!After that I wanted to go to more shows.Ernie November always had flyers up in their window. I saw this hand drawn flyer for a band called Dissent from Rapid City that was going to be playing a place called Nordic Hall. It looked interesting so some skater friends of mine and I marked it on our calendar to go.I remember going to the show. People were hanging outside. Like punk people I didn’t know. It was eye opening. We paid at the door and then walked down a long staircase and as we walked, I could smell a mixture of smoke and sweat hitting me in the face along with an echoing sonic assault of punk music.There was no stage and bands I had never heard of were playing as people circle pitted. We all joined in and released our teen angst energy in a frenzy of slam dancing. The bands were talking about things like sexism, homophobia, being harassed by the police, racism and many more topics I had never heard addressed before. I bought as many t shirts and records as I could afford.I then started finding and going to any garage shows, house shows and hall shows I could!About a year later, when I was 15, I joined an already established local band called Face of Decline and that year I started booking shows at Nordic Hall and the rest is kind of history!

The punk scene has always represented, to me, a laid back place where it’s socially acceptable to be lame and strange and not have to always put on a performance for someone else (ironically, as I have played in a punk band for a few years now), but to follow the rules you and your friends have established for themselves. Long long ago I was a young weirdo, wearing shorts and Hawaiian shirts constantly, only listening to oldies and “Weird Al” and feeling very frustrated. I am still that person, but there are other facets now as well, mostly because of that one fateful afternoon in Orchestra class in 7th grade when I first heard Green Day’s Dookie and Slipknot’s self-titled major label debut. Thankfully, an inquisitive nature kept me from stagnating at that phase of development, but first hearing such nakedly aggressive and unapologetically “unsafe” (to my young perception anyway) lyrics and imagery and it was so fast…I was changed forever. A lot of people get introduced to the new music through their siblings but I was the oldest of two and had to blaze my own trail. There were a few years I mucked through the mainstream, ultra-produced schlock of the early 2000’s but, like any addiction, that light shit just leaves you wanting something harder…it was just gateway punk. And, most fortunately for me, my own burgeoning interests in 20th century music were rising on a trajectory parallel to the development of file-sharing technology and streaming services; the more I wanted to listen to something, the more avenues that presented themselves for me to consume it. During college, I got addicted to Torrenting music, sorting the wheat from the chaff, and then hunting down the bands I “discovered” and loved to see them live so I could pay them directly for the music and enjoyment they brought me. Having a place where you can freak out and scream and express yourself physically undoubtedly saved me by allowing me to have an acceptable place to lose my mind every once in a while without burdening those in my life that might not share my…negative and frenetic outlook. Some of the proudest work I have ever done creatively has been with my brothers in Stiff Middle Fingers. We started out as a cover band but, at the encouragement of our esteemed guitarist, we starting writing and performing original tunes…I started writing original tunes and lyrics. Overcoming the anxiety associated with putting yourself out there in the song-writing process can be daunting, especially when writing about personal shit, but the beauty of the genre is that’s what it is there for; unlike pop or country or other genres that have specific contours to their design or certain lyrical restraints, whether it be topical restrictions or dumbing down the lyrics to a specific level for mass consumption or whatever, there are NO such restrictions on punk. Stiff Little Fingers are different from Ramones are different from MC5 are different from The Bags are different from Black Flag (’77) are different from Black Flag (’86) are different from Flag are different from Devo are different from Wire are different from Minutemen are different from Descendents are different from All…well, you get the idea. Besides being uniquely your own voice, punk, to me, is mostly about deciding on building something, regardless of perceived judgment, that is an accurate and unflinching sculpture of the frustration and dismay the creator feels about being forced to play a societal game that has no instructions, makes no sense and has no end goal. Scream your heart out, take off your pants, moon the vice-president, get in peoples’ faces, EXPRESS YOURSELF! We’re all just dying, what’s the worst that could happen?