Lake Union Pub! Los Hornets! Punk nostalgia!

I’m going through a big box of photos, negatives, and slides that I put away in 1997 and haven’t opened since – although I have moved 12 times since then (and gotten married)! They’ve been stored and hauled around, and I never had time for them until now. I’m doing a Thrasher Zine Thing show in Seattle in April, and unlike the San Diego and Austin ones we did this time we’re taking a slightly historical approach. I’m from Seattle so I’ve got a good idea of the 1980s and 1990s, and have a few friends helping with the 1970s. Maybe I will post some of the other shit over time, but you should really just come to the show.

In the summer of 1992, I enrolled in a photo class at the UW, and had access to their darkroom. I broke a finger toward the end of the term, and was allowed to take an incomplete, which gave me access for the fall quarter too. I’ve spent time since in the darkroom, but not that much, really – and now I shoot mostly digital (when it’s something that’s going to be used for print) but do still shoot some film here and there. At that time I shot a show at Seattle’s Lake Union Pub, my favorite hangout. It was the diviest and shittiest of punk bars, with a small room that could maybe hold 40 people to watch a band, although more could pack in around the bar. I saw Teengenerate play there. I saw the Rip Offs play there. All the great local bands played there, and a shit ton of out-of-towners played there too. I held a Pool Dust release party there one year, and celebrated a birthday once by smoking an entire cigar to myself (and then puking). The Lake Union Pub stank, the carpets were sticky and shitty, and when it was hot the ceiling would drip with sweat. I also went to show once and sat at the bar and watched the entire film Caligula for some reason, I guess because it was Caligula.

I lived in Wallingford at the time, and would frequently take the bus or ride my bicycle. I remember getting so drunk one night that I fell over on my bike three or four times on the way home, each time into bushes (and thankfully not under a car on Aurora). I posted some of these photos on Facebook, where there is a Seattle punk photo archive page and a page dedicated to the Lake Union Pub. Check em out, some raw shit.

Los Hornets was a great band – not taking themselves too seriously, having a great time, and rocking out. They had a song about Drew Barrymore. They were into old cars and motorcycles. Slim, their singer, passed away in 2007. I’ve seen Jason a few times over the years on my trips back to Seattle, but haven’t seen the others much. Miss those fun times.

The other photo is someone who shall remain nameless, because, well, I don’t know if he’d want me to post a photo of him taking a piss. That damn shitty, smelly Lake Union Pub bathroom.

The final photo is the Teen Angels. Kelly Canary from Dickless, Julie Ransweiler from Scooch Pooch records, and I can’t remember who drummed. Loud and cacophonous, Julie picked up the bass to be in the band. They did a single or two on the label and I haven’t seen those girls in ages either.

Heebie Jeebies for Girls on CBs! part 7

 Man, I spend a little time poking around some of the forums for bikes, for the stockers and cafe racer crowd, and it's a lot of young, clueless, bearded dudes building unsafe bikes and a lot of old, bitter dudes calling them out for it. It's become this sort of fountain of bullshit and negativity, and I sometimes have to take stock and look away from the fray. Aesthetics and safety don't have to be opposite sides of a continuum. The other thing to bitch about is the explosion of videos of dudes wrenching on their bikes, with the requisite flannel, beard, and angle grinder throwing sparks. It's become so prevalent that there are tons of videos making fun of them, but that are somewhat hard to distinguish from the real ones since they're all so ridiculous. I just want my arm to heal up and the weather to get nice -- although I went for a brief spin up and down the road yesterday just to get one of my bikes started. Anyway, how about that CB750 and it's crew above? Now that's one way to ride.

 This one unfortunately falls into the not-so-great ideas category, and here I am  bitching again. No front fender or fork brace, and those tires were state of the art in 1940 but not so functional these days. Brat seats are so hot right now, but at least there's a double front disc on this murdered out -- isn't that what the kids call spray painting the entire thing black these days? -- CB550.

 The CB400F has always been elegant, and this one's mostly a stocker save the seat, chopped front fender, and upgraded master cylinder. Maybe the gauges are different too?

Stoked on girls who ride. I think this is the Eastside Moto Babes? Shit, can't remember where I got the photo. CB550. CB400F, looks like a CB500T? Not sure what that twin is, and a Beemer of course.

 Frosty CB750.

Heebie Jeebies for Girls on CBs! Part 6

Well, they're not really girls, but they have long hair? And although it is technically a CB, it's that butt-ugly (but kinda torquey) 1978+ CB400 twin, the Hawk. Shit, nobody is questioning their rock 'n' roll bonafides, but Gene Simmons sure is an idiot, so I guess he would go for that dumpy looking piece of orange shit.
 

This young lady is back on the program with a CB550 -- nicely done, lass! I'd recommend pushing the forks back into their proper position, however, as running them through the triple tree like that changes the geometry pretty drastically and may make your ride shitty, not to mention the possibility of your fender hitting the head pipes. What's that? You're not running a fender? I should have known. Hope your forks don't twist up.

The CB200 cafe racer! Sweet little runner! Not the most sensible shoes, young lady, but there you go. Another fan of the no-fender look, with even skinnier forks! And why not throw a saddle bag on there! Magical!

 This one is near and dear to my heart: CB350F! Beautiful bikes! And what's that? A hint of sideboob? SO HOT RIGHT NOW!

 This lass has sensible riding boots on at least! And a brand spanking new CB500! Nicely done.

And again with the sensible footwear! Way to go, lass! Wherever these girls are it must be so hot that wearing pants is simply not an option. I ;ived in Phoenix for 15 years, sisters, I know how you feel.

Trip to Austin, Pt. 2.

Sunday was not a day of rest, it was a day to drink beer under the bridge. McNair and Hitz had flown the coop, so Maria scooped me and we found this gem of a DIY spot: Banister. Killer session, wish I as skating right now, but these guys killed it. Cool scene. Rip dog ripping.

 Weedboner, FSA.

 Anthony, High speed FSG off the end and back into the bank.

 Connor, FS Rock.

Kiwi Max, blasting FSA.

Last noght of the show, and Maria and I checked out Rocket from the Crypt and the Murder City Devils. Thanks again Maria and all my buddies in Austin for making this a killer time! Hopefully see you next year!

Trip to Austin!

I was stoked to head back to Austin for Thrasher's Zine Thing party and to check out Fun Fun Fun Fest again. Joe Dirt scooped me from the airport and brought me to Darin's, where we bullshitted for a few then headed to Anthony's. I had eaten all day, so the beer got the better of me, and it was kind of an early night crashing at Darin's. Thanks man! 

The next day my buddy from Phoenix Jeff Petite scooped me up and we at at Magnolia Cafe and checked out End of an Ear. Then it was off to the Yellow Jacket to make some preparations for the night's festivities. My buddy Maria Mabra (above) met us -- haven't seen her for 20 years or so, since the Fallout days, and it was super rad to hang out and catch up. She shuttled Dave and I around a little, and helped me out throughout the weekend. Thanks Maria!

 The Zine Thing show went off well -- tons of people, killer art, and just a blast.  Thanks to everyone involved! I played records all night so I didn't mingle too much, but got to see some old and some new friends.

 I hung up a few band shots and some prints from the new mag.

 Tim and Bill's section was killer.

 

 Stoked to see Donny Dietrich for the first time since he's been out of the can. Ruling as usual, we hung out a few times over the weekend. He's killing it. And Sam Hitz came out to show some Larb creations for the party. Good times.

The next day we checked out the festival. Last year, the festival flew me out, put me up in a posh hotel, and made sure I had proper credentials. This time, not so much. I got the show to find out I didn't even have a photo pass. "How can you shoot the bands for an article in Thrasher without a photo pass?" you ask? Good question, obvious answer. That really freed up my time, so I got to hang out with locals. There were plenty of bands I wanted to check out, but it meant I didn't have to scramble from stage to stage to shoot a bunch of stuff. It also meant I could break out to hang out with some of the local dudes. First stop was an old pool that's been skated for years. We went there on Friday and it had water in it, so we drained it. It was painted and remained slick, so no skating went down. Tomorrow would be the session. We headed back to the Fest for Judas Priest. Since they got a new crew to build the ramp this year, a lot of the locals were bummed. Normally they help and get passes, but this time that didn't happen. Most sneaked in when they could, however, and saw some of the bands they wanted to. Reeling from Thursday night, Friday night was an easy one.

Priest killed it!

The next day, McNair and I grabbed a bite and checked out the local park. Looked like fun, and he got a FS pivot in a tight spot. Then we headed back to the pool. It was dry, and shredding commenced.

 Top to bottom: McNair, rolled right in to start the session, and busted a rock on the good wall; Hitz smashed the box frontside after a few tries -- this pool had some weird trannies; Joe Dirt showed and went straight over the stairs; Zach got the FSG box sporting his new Pool dust shwag! Yeah!

McNair had an epic battle with the stairs. Joe showed up and made it look easy -- but he's skated there a bunch and has stairs dialed. The stairs were tough as shit. As the session winded down, MCNair started trying them, and I shot the attempts. At the end of the day, and after 50+ tries (I counted them on my camera), he pulled it. It's not taking anything away from McNair to say it took that many tries -- shit was gnarly -- but it's a testament to his fortitude that he stuck it out. Yeah buddy!

Back to the Fest to check some more skating. A lot of rippers. Grant Taylor straight up and down ollie on the extension, David Gonzalez floats a lien, and Grant and Pedro doubles on the center obstacle.

That night, King diamond played. It was rad.

Shoulder surgery -- out for a while

I had shoulder surgery 3 days ago -- torn labrum. If the adage that sometimes skateboarding involves not skateboarding, I must really be skateboarding right now. The meds help take the edge off, but I'm jonesing to ride.

Hoss sent me a disc of a bunch of photos he took; it's mostly me, so I guess it's a vanity project. This is over the course of about 3 years I imagine. Hoss got a photo of most of the pools we skated, and I tried to mug a photo for each one, pretending to stretch or flex or whatever. Here are about 120 of them. Each has a story to tell. Hit me up one day and I might tell you one.

New Pool Dust mag!

Hey Kids! Been blagging lately, but I did want to tell you about the new issue of Pool Dust! You're gonna hate it! I mean love it! Chock full of Barneys skating pools, but also music reviews, Tales of the Board, Brad Westcott photos, an insane full pipe, a trip to the Northwest, and all sorts of other ramblings of a barely coherent old times. Send $3 well concealed cash to PO Box 752, Natick, MA 01760. I've also got t-shirts ($16ppd), patches large and small ($3.50 and $5) and stickers ($1). Show the world you care!