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CD Review: Various Artists – Godfathers of L.A. Punk

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It’s amazing how a seemingly elegant story can become astonishingly complex the closer you look at it. Take, for example, Darwinian evolution. Darwin’s original notion of the place where life on Earth began was a gentle “warm pond,” a conceptual predecessor to the “primordial soup” that most of us probably learned about in high school.

In the middle of the 20th century it was more commonly believed that life began, whether in a pond or not, in the fairly harsh environment of a noxious atmosphere composed of ammonia, methane, ethane, and other gases (oxygen only came later, a product largely of plant-based photosynthesis). The famous experiment from the 1950s where scientists created amino acids by running lighting through a flask full of these gases was the watershed moment in this line of thinking.

More recent research confounds this thesis in turn, arguing that organic compounds — especially RNA, the probable evolutionary precursor to DNA — dissolve readily under such conditions, and therefore would have a hard time surviving such an environment.

The current thinking is that the early evolution of life on earth was many-pronged, possibly resulting in numerous forms of life (e.g. protein life, RNA life, even rudimentary life based on clay crystals) that were eventually outcompeted by DNA-based life, viruses, and certain possible forms of RNA-based life that may yet survive. Yet more radical theories argue that the early chemical precursors to Earth life may have formed on Mars billions of years ago, when that planet’s chemistry and climate were more favorable to the formation of RNA-like compounds, and then came to earth by accident after meteor strikes knocked some of Mars out into space.

The point, before I bore all my readers into submission, is that history is always far, far more complicated than it at first seems. The simple classroom narrative almost always covers up all the interesting complexities and for this can end up being almost wrong.

This goes for music history too. Every so often, new recordings emerge into popular view that change the dominant narrative of pop music as we know it. Just last year Rhino released One Kiss Can Lead To Another: Girl Group Sounds Lost And Found, a tour de force compilation of 120 girl-group recordings from the 1960s that acts as sort of a companion piece to that label’s four-disc Nuggets set, which collected American garage rock from roughly the same period.

Together these two box sets amount to a drastic revision of the usual quickie history of Rock and Roll in which rock and roll hit a dead patch after the Elvis joined the Army and didn’t get interesting again until the Beatles wave broke over North America, and didn’t get good for Americans until the Summer of Love. Judging from songs collected on these two Rhino sets, that history is not only wrong but monstrously unfair to a huge number of artists working between 1959 and 1968 who have had the misfortune to fall on the wrong side of tightly controlled Oldies Radio playlists.

One lesson to take away from both my tiresome little homilies is that what we think we know, what survives to make up our worlds, has as much to do with accident as with design (whether “intelligent” or not). So why did I just expend 500-odd words on jibber-jabber about DNA and Rhino Records? Because of a new compilation called Godfathers of L.A. Punk: Today Its Time To Wake Up Again America!!!, out now on Siamese Dogs records.

The usual narrative of punk rock goes something like this: The Stooges begat The Ramones begat the Sex Pistols who begat Everyone Else, world without end, Amen. This is a neat little chapbook of a history that, while elegant, completely fails to explain what the Dead Boys and Rocket From The Tombs were doing in Cleveland in ’74, how the Saints came from Australia, or why when the Sex Pistols went to California for the first time, there were punk bands ready and waiting to open the show for them.

It turns out that — surprise! — there’s more to the story.

Siamese Dogs Records is the brainchild of one Philippe Mogane, a French photographer who, in the 1970s, found himself in Los Angeles with a bagful of high-end cameras and a serious jones for the Detroit-bred musical stylings of one James N. Osterberg, better known as Iggy Pop, and his band The Stooges. Mogane found himself in fact living in the same tatty building as The Stooges, and in time became sort of a go-between among the warring Stooge factions. The photos he took of the group were published in Europe, resulting in renewed interest in the group there.

At the same time, Mogane became interested in the local bands that were following in The Stooges’ footsteps, and with Stooges guitarist James Williamson founded Siamese Dogs records to promote these groups. Their first releases were a couple archival singles by the Stooges, “I Got a Right” and “Gimme Some Skin.”

By the time 1978 rolled around, the punk sound was on the breeze and Siamese Dogs was riding the first wave of Los Angeles punk, releasing music by (as Mogane styles them) “the Godfather of LA Glam Punk,” The Max Lazer Band, “The Godfathers of LA Hard Punk,” The Weasels, and “the Godfathers of LA Punk,” The Controllers, among others. Mogane now feels the world is finally ready for the music he recorded nearly thirty years ago, and has revived the Siamese Dogs imprint to release Godfathers of LA Punk.

One thing for sure is that the bands recorded by Siamese Dogs are clear ancestors of many great California legends. Godfathers captures something about Southern California, a feeling that would eventually play out in recordings by dozens of bands we know well. For example, The Controllers and The Weasels point the way straight to The Germs, Black Flag, The Weirdos, Suicidal Tendencies, Bay Area bands like Flipper and The Dead Kennedys and even Jane’s Addiction. And though it is surely heresy to say so, you can hear in the glam of The Max Lazer Band a little bit of the strut and swagger that influenced the metal scene that spawned Guns ‘n’ Roses. In these latter cases, it’s not so much a sound as a vibe, a creeping Californianess that colored each nascent scene and ties together bands as diverse as The Doors, X, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Suicidal Tendencies.

But all this historical importance is of interest only to snotty record collectors who own Stiff Little Fingers LPs on vinyl and can name from memory the birth-names of all the Ramones, CJ included. Without decent music, no disc like Godfathers of LA Punk will be anything more than a curiosity, a mildly interesting document of a time just as well forgotten. Luckily, that is not the case. Instead,Godfathers of LA Punk is very worthwhile listening for any serious punk collector. Besides its historical value, there is just too much music here of surpassing quality to pass up.

To begin with, the Stooges tracks, “I Got A Right” and “Gimme Some Skin (both alternates from the Raw Power sessions) are practically worth the price of admission on their own. But beyond the long shadow of Iggy is a surprisingly diverse collection that probably has something to please punk fans of every stripe.

My personal favorites are The Weasels and The Controllers, who in particular anticipate merchants of gratuitous outrage like The Circle Jerks and The Dead Kennedys and the hard-boiled tales of X. The Weasels’ biggest hit, “Beat Her With A Rake,” is a song about a guy who beats his girlfriend to death for giving head to another guy again in public. Objectively, there is absolutely nothing redeeming about a song whose message line is “beat her with a rake and make her pay for her mistake.” Indeed, it’s only sorta-funny in the way that appeals to world-weary eighteen year olds. Nonetheless, over a trashy and muscular punk riff that is years ahead of their time, The Weasels sell “Beat Her With A Rake” and another domestic abuse single (this one with a Nazi twist!) called “I’m The Commander” to the hilt, reveling in their brazen crassness.

Similarly, The Controllers’ melodic proto-hardcore stomp “Do The Uganda” is about wanting to “get VD and be real mean, I wanna be black and look like Idi Amin,” only to conclude that “You can’t leave Uganda, yeah the joke’s on you!”

Mean-spirited joke songs like these seem indigenous to California’s punk scene. It would be a surprise if a young Jello Biafra hadn’t come across these records up in his Bay Area home.

With such classically tasteless offerings as these on hand, it is no wonder that Philippe Mogane himself emailed me in response to my request for a review copy of this album, warning me that “it might be too staggering for your proper, nice and orderly mind.” Well, fair enough. But I’ve heard songs like “Beat Her With A Rake” before, going all they way back to The Leaves’ and Hendrix’ versions of “Hey Joe,” Jim Morrison’s half-silly spoken word rants about killing his parents, and even John Lee Hooker’s lovingly detailed torture-murder fantasy “Bad Like Jesse James.” And if I can enjoy Snoop singing about how he “don’t love these ho’s” or the Meatmen singing about how crippled children suck, then I can surely get a thrilling transgressive frission out of the absolute awful, terrible wrongness of a chorus that goes, “beat her with a rake and make her pay for her mistake.”

Beyond the manic (but today fairly orthodox-sounding) punk of The Weasels and The Controllers, Godfathers is a gratifyingly diverse set. The Max Lazer Band enriches glam rock with saxophones and a punk edge, and if “Street Queen” isn’t quite as ferocious as some of the other offerings here, it still glitters, writhes, and bites hard.

More interesting still are the arty, jagged noise experiments of Nu Americans and the Attitude, both of whom even employ – gasp! – keyboards! The Attitude’s cover of “Hound Dog,” featuring some hot piano from Little Richard, is a nicely sacrilegious good time, and Nu Americans’ bizarre “Listen To Your Heart” sounds like some unholy mix of The Slits, Devo and Captain Beefheart. That is, except for one thing: Devo and The Slits had yet to release their first records. (Indeed, this is just one of the many ways in which the bands on Godfathers of LA Punk were ahead of their time. Iggy Pop may have showed everyone the way as far back as ’73, but even in 1978, the day of punk had yet to arrive.)

Together the Attitude and Nu Americans remind me of a one-shot video I have of a band called the Steel Tips, who opened for the Dead Boys at CBGB in ’77. The Steel Tips mixed Zappa with The MC5 and added some atonal riffing on top, in what I presume was an effort to sound like no other band ever. Having now heard The Nu Americans and The Attitude, I now suspect that bands like this were incredibly common in 1978 and have now been all but forgotten. And although I’m not personally in love with that sound, your mileage may certainly vary.

If a French photographer had never shacked up with the Stooges in a grimy Los Angeles loft, the bands on Godfathers of LA Punk might never have been committed to wax. And if said French photographer hadn’t decided that it was time for America to hear these sounds again, they would be lost forever but for faint memories in the minds of Los Angeles’ oldest bartenders and punk progenitors.

Godfathers of LA Punk isn’t necessarily the alpha and omega of Los Angeles punk rock, but it is definitely of interest to any and all fans of the genre. More importantly, it helps shed some light on the murky beginnings of one of punk’s most important scenes. Punk was the one of the last great gasps in rock and roll’s evolution before its long, slow decline toward the millennium, and we owe it to future generations of truth seekers to give them the straight story. I’m sure that what Philippe Mogane has done in reissuing these songs could be done (has it been done?) in Houston, in Cleveland, in Chicago, and every little jerkwater burg in between. And even if all the music so rediscovered is not worth saving, it would be nice to make that decision consciously rather than let happenstance and obscurity swallow dreck and diamonds alike.

One final note: Godfathers of LA Punk contains the answer to a question I didn’t even know needed asking: what’s the deal with Pauly Shore? Readers of a certain age will remember that in his MTV days, Pauly Shore would frequently refer to himself in the third person as “the wea-sel,” with just that singsongy skip in the middle: “wea-sel.” Well guess what? I think I know what Pauly Shore was listening to before he hit the big time, because The Weasels introduce themselves in the live version of “Beat Her With A Rake” as, you guessed it, “The Wea-sels.” You learn something new every day.

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About John Owen

  • godoggo

    The Controllers had a couple of tracks on the early L.A. punk compilation Tooth and Nail. I think there were one or two future Gears in the band.

  • John Owen

    You would know that!

    Some of my earliest memories are of the Iranian hostage crisis, so it’s safe to say that my thirtysomething ass is too young to remember the early days of punk rock. Indeed, the Ramones got together the same month I was born (coincidence? I think not!!).

    So, much like has happened with the self-aggrandization of the Boomer generation, who have rewritten history so that every damn teenager in the country was at Woodstock, and the hippies were somehow all noble warriors against armies of squares in brown suits and haircuts, the early days of punk are ripe for mytholization.

    I kind of envy the folks who were there, because I’m positive that seeing Wayne/Jayne County open for Television on an off night would leave you with a different impression of how things unfolded than I have now. Even if that means you felt Television couldn’t deliver the goods live or whatever. All I have to go on is Marquee Moon, a couple of compiled singles, and the storytelling of Legs Macneil. And let me tell you that ain’t much.

  • DOA Dan of The Controllers

    John Owen, you write better than most of your competitors. I like a little imagery myself:
    The Controllers were the house band at Brendan Mullen’s The Masque, where they would whip an audience into a frenzy. Dripping with sweat, they were the first and last band to play
    the Masque. The creation of guitarists Johnny Stingray and Kid Spike, The Controllers entertained large crowds; establishing The Masque as an alternative to the Whiskey’s lack of enthusiasm for Punk that season.
    The Controllers were known for their girl drummer Charlie Trash(Charliena Davis), who brought both color and photographers to shows that could be fierce. DOA Dan Davis played bass. The band was inspired by 60’s garage bands and The Ramones. The Controllers had a single coil sound; unaffected by the humbucker sound more prevalent in the 70’s. The Controllers played and practiced at The Masque with The Berlin Brats, The Skulls, the female Bags and The Go Go’s in a somewhat communal atmosephere. “They didn’t like the music they were getting, so they made their own.”
    Like the Germs, The Controllers emerged from Santa Monica in the Summer of 77 as a beginner band playing a minimalist sound. Yet The Controllers’ songs were more sardonic and testosterone induced. Lean and mean like Steve McQueen, The Controllers played at a superfast Ramones beat, the tempo most effective in Hollywood Punk77.
    The band was managed by the fluxus artist Al Hansen, known for pushing a piano out a fifth story window in wartime France.

  • John Owen

    DOA Dan, you made my week!

    That’s fantastic!! Man, I was born too late.

  • Charlie Trash

    The Controllers first saw The Germs in Westwood in July of 1977. I remember the summer wind was blowing the sheer curtains far into the hall in a dreamy kind of way. The Germs were playing sluggishly in and out of beat, but it sounded good. My husband, DOA Dan thought that The Germs were better than The Doors, but I thought they needed a lot of help from their rich friends. The Controllers flexed our muscles, and scared off a bunch of nasty surfers who were heckling The Germs.
    In the Fall, The Controllers saw The Germs in the Hollywood hills, playing to a crowd of industry professionals. Pat Smear played well, and the band was faster. “They’re imitating us!”, I said. DOA Dan replied: “Yeah, aren’t they great!” The crowd of industry types was tepid, so once again, The Controllers came to their rescue, and got the crowd moving for all three of The Germs songs. The Controllers were happy though, since we stole all the photographers (as we always did).
    The best party we ever went to was a Germs party on the beach in Orange County. Strange that we had to go to Orange County to find a good Hollywood Punk party!
    Bobby Pyn shied away from us, I guess because he was so small. DOA Dan liked Lorna Doom because he likes anyone with more acne than he has. You could always know where Lorna Doom was at a party. You could hear a voice saying: “No, not Lorna Doon, Lorna Doom!” In 78 I let Don Bolles use our room and my drum kit. He trashed it. I will always remember The Germs as ingrates.

  • Johnny Stingray

    Get the real story: go to this site, this is all DOA Dan’s revisionist cartoon version of MY band.