Year: 2018

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Mental health crisis in the Music industry

Kurt Cobain suffered serious mental health issues and drug addiction

The following blog comes from Achal Dhillon – the MD of British independent music company, Killing Moon. Dhillon (pictured inset) tackles a tricky subject: is the music industry doing enough, in the right way, to protect at-risk artists’ wellbeing?

That’s right. I am calling it a mental health crisis, because that’s what it fucking is.

There’s no real need, from where I am sitting right now, to ‘sell’ the importance of addressing the ever-presence of mental illnesses and lacklustre well-being in our music industry.

The fact of the matter – if you have a heart, that is – is that people are dying. People will continue to die if we do not deal with this sooner. And more of them, more frequently than ever before.

However, I recognise that we live in a country, indeed a world, that finds it perfectly acceptable to walk past the homeless, impoverished and (more often than not) the mentally ill in the streets whilst they are actively asking for their help, ignore them, and somehow still sleep at night. (Honestly, if you are one of those people, good for you. I really mean that. I just can’t fucking do it, despite trying.)

So when it comes to a vehicle that was largely born out of selling a particular image of the perfection of human creativity – ie. the music business – you’ll have to forgive me for assuming that many people, including those we all deal with on a regular professional basis, need a degree of poking and prodding on the subject in the headline above.
In music, mental health – and indeed the issues and ailments surrounding it – is fashionable. It is a hot topic. A buzz phrase.

On the odd occasion, I have even witnessed it become so pervasive that depression and anxiety seem more like marketing drivers, rather than illnesses and conditions to be identified and treated seriously.

Prima facie, it is very easy to take what I have written here out of context and do the now-typical thing of forming an online mob and getting angry about it. (A trend that itself obviously warrants getting angry about.)

However, I am not resentful about this situation (or, truthfully, as much as I have been in the recent past). Every art form, including music, must necessarily have a business element in order for it to get, well, anywhere. And anger isn’t going to help a goddamn thing.

Fact: depression, anxiety and, ultimately, suicide, as far as the artist community is concerned, historically results in a surge of sales (or I guess streams) for the affected artist.
This, for the business enterprise concerned with these acts, deserves serious contemplation. As does the wider narrative which surrounds these situations. (Question: would anyone have given a shit about Nirvana if Kurt wasn’t so visibly fucked up?’)

Ian Curtis commited suicide

“THE MUSIC INDUSTRY SAW THE THREAT OF PIRACY AS CLEAR AS CRYSTAL… THE MENTAL WELLBEING OF ARTISTS IS A NEW THREAT, ONE WHICH CARRIES MORE GRAVITY.”

It is therefore no surprise to me that there is a rather large barrier to orchestrating any meaningful form of change, given that we sensationalise illness to this point.

Our propensity to get all ‘Candle In The Wind’ about it as soon as a cultural tragedy befalls us, always beckons into view a lens of possibly profiting from it somehow.

And yet, the ongoing narrative today suggests that we may be warming to the gravity of the problem. I do not believe, however, that this warming is happening nearly as quickly as we need it to.

I am writing this to make the argument for pan-industry (trade bodies, private companies, public companies, PROs, musicians, fans, and indeed any other stakeholder I currently can’t think of) action on dealing with our mental health crisis.

This must inevitably be done in the context of money, which I have come to appreciate is generally the single language that the world can best understand.

The music industry saw the threat of piracy as clear as crystal on that basis. So hopefully this will have a similar effect in terms of generating a similar degree of response – both in terms of volume, and indeed unity. The mental wellbeing of artists is a new threat, one which I believe carries more gravity than our historic realisation that we cannot control, nor indeed destroy, the internet.

So there you go: I’m after money. Not for me. For us. Specifically, for further research into the conditions that I believe either stimulate pre-existing and unmanageable addictions or behavioural tendencies, or, in worst case scenarios, create the nuances that lead us into depression or anxiety, or both.

We then also need some more money based on the outcome of this research – hopefully to tell us how the fuck to deal with this. Training. Experience. Awareness. Identification. Treatment. All of it.

From what I hear, the industry is now swimming in money again. So what is the largely-financial argument I need to make in order to render this cause something that pretty much anyone can get behind?

Here it is: we are fucking ourselves as a business by not adequately providing the knowledge base – or the degree of fiduciary responsibility to pretty much any stakeholder (i.e. those which I have referenced above) in the music industry – on how to correctly identify and deal with mental health-related issues.

We are losing money, rooted in consequential loss as opposed to just pure economic loss.

Bluntly put, what good to us is a dead artist? Or a dead product manager? Or a dead fan? Can you make money out of them, in the long-term?

“WE ARE F*CKING OURSELVES AS A BUSINESS BY NOT ADEQUATELY PROVIDING THE KNOWLEDGE BASE ON HOW TO CORRECTLY IDENTIFY AND DEAL WITH MENTAL HEALTH-RELATED ISSUES.”

Let’s take one of the more abstract (as least as far as I am concerned) recent examples of an incident occasioning mental health issues – Chester Bennington (pictured, main).

How many team members, such as a product manager, an A&R, a tour manager, will 
now not have a job as a result of that artist no longer being alive? How much income from live outings or record sales are lost due to the festivals he will no longer play or songs he will no longer write? How many people will now not start bands, or labels, or management companies as a result of not being inspired to do so by a person of such creative and fiscal importance?

I would otherwise talk about Scott 
Hutchison, which admittedly – even as a slight positive – has inspired me to put this column to writing at this time. Because the issue is too important now, isn’t it? Because he was one of ours, wasn’t he?

Hopefully you can understand why, at this time, basically I can’t talk too much about Scott.

I’ll concentrate on the guy I didn’t know to get this across, otherwise I won’t be able to concentrate at all.

It is very easy for me to sit here and preach about this. But it is something that we put into practice on a regular basis at Killing Moon, in respect of most if not all of our monetised businesses. And it isn’t just coming from me either, given that my staff and I are quite unified in this quest to put a heart to the motherbrain of the re-ignited music industry.

I love picking on my management assistant Rob as an example most of the time (in the nicest possible way, of course). In this context, that’s especially true – given that the following event took place on his very first day in the office, back in September 2017.

Whilst getting used to our systems and indeed my own nuances/cursing out loud, we rather abruptly received the offer for Annabel Allum, an artist I had been managing for around 2.5 years at that stage, to support Beth Ditto on her entire EU (still counting the UK in that y’all) live run in October 2017.

This was seemingly our moment that we had been waiting for and we had to act fast.

We had a grand total of about five seconds to say yes to the tour, and then I had about a week to find the money in order to make it happen.

Rob, utilising his rather extensive experience as a touring artist himself, was put to the task of organising the routing, hotel bookings and air/ground transportation for the tour. I’ll leave you to decide which task was more laborious, and which one was more stressful.

By the next day – and obviously at this point we had confirmed that this was all going ahead – Rob did a rather brave thing. He told me he thought Annabel shouldn’t do the tour.

At this point, I am Mo Farah on the final run up to the finishing line at London 2012, and this guy is in my fucking way.

It begged the question, ‘Why, Rob? Why would you try to fuck this up for us?’ And so the question was asked. The response needed 
to be said: ‘I am a touring artist with nearly 10 years’ experience. The routing is far from a nice, coherent oval shape. It is a fucking spaghetti junction. If Annabel misses one connecting flight or bus, it will consequently fuck up the rest of the tour dates. It will take an immense toll 
on her physically and mentally, and that will really have a direct knock-on effect onto 
the quality of her performance.

‘I’m not sure I could do it, and right now, on paper, I’m really not sure it is in her best interests overall to do this in this manner.’

We also semantically debated the merits of sending a young woman, on her own, in these circumstances, into central Europe for the very first time. Not that we want to seem patronising or anything.

The net effect here was that, on reflection, we needed to get more money to ensure 
that Annabel could eat, sleep and travel in a manner consistent with dealing with a venture of this magnitude.

Which basically means I had to get the credit card out. I also needed to go out with her to the first show, make sure she was acclimatised to Beth Ditto’s crew and live environment, and that she could generally get into the swing of the touring routine. Which, to be honest, I can’t even do myself having ended up as tour manager/merch boy on several tours back in the proverbial day myself – lasting about three days before I started crying, and wanting to go home.

Beth Ditto, on the first date of the tour, invited Annabel to travel with her on the tour bus. Why? “Because she used to be me,” Beth told me as I said goodbye following the sold-out show at Copenhagen’s Vega venue, whilst she was talking to a bunch of fans that had waited outside the stage door after curfew to just catch a glimpse of her.“ No way in hell am I letting her travel alone out here by herself. And I wish someone did that for me when I was her.”

So, that was £2,500 on PDs, travel and accommodation well-spent. And I really, really mean that.Music Business Worldwide.

*********************************************************************************************************************************

Promoters are often overlooked in the music business, probably one of the hardest jobs there is, because of the risks involved. The mammoth hours trying to convince people to come along to the show. In modern times the online abuse, a promoter can be the target of. Then the responsibility of the event itself. making sure you have enough money raised to cover the events cost, and to hopefully earn something for your own time. Bankruptcy and breakdowns is a regular for the promoter. Even friends think its cool to come to the show without any financial support. Artists often demanding payment and treatment well above their own value. This all weighs on the promoter, nights of non sleep and anxiety .

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Rebel Dykes London Punk Rock

Lesbian Punk Girls

Brixton in the ’80s was home to a group of radical lesbians who mixed sexual politics with squat culture. Meet the group calling themselves the ‘Rebel Dykes’

In the early 1980s, young gay women, many still teenagers, gravitated to London, attracted by its diversity and experimentation. A lesbian subculture grew up around the squats of Brixton and Hackney. ‘You could tell which houses were squats by the painted doors and blankets in the windows,’ Siobhan Fahey remembers. ‘I wanted to live in Brixton, so all I did was walk around the streets asking if I could move in.’

Fahey had come to London from Liverpool as a teenager. At the time being gay could be dangerous. It had only just become legal for gay men to have sex, and in 1988 Margaret Thatcher brought in Section 28, legislation which outlawed the promotion of homosexuality as ‘a pretend family relationship’. The capital’s empty buildings offered safe spaces for sexual openness, creativity and activism, and so the Rebel Dykes – as Fahey later christened them – were born. Dressed in biker jackets and chains, their hair sculpted, shaved and rainbow-coloured, the Rebel Dykes were the antithesis of ’80s conservatism. They helped establish women-only squats across the city and opened London’s first lesbian fetish club.

  ‘There have been no books or articles. It’s like it never happened’ – Siobhan Fahey

Now, though, these pioneering women feel like they’ve been written out of history. ‘There have been no books or articles. It’s like it never happened,’ Fahey says, explaining that their ‘punky intersectional feminism’ was attributed to ’90s movements like Riot Grrrl, while stories about 1980s squat culture often focused on men. Eventually, she set up a Facebook group to find former Rebel Dykes and nearly 200 people joined. Now she’s producing a documentary to tell their story.

The roots of the Rebel Dykes can be chased back to the Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp, the female-only protest which campaigned against US nuclear weapons being sited at an RAF base in Berkshire. It was a feminist hub and, according to many of the women I spoke to, a hot spot for coming out and hooking up.

Lesbian Fetish Punk London

‘ I was young, I was cute – why not?’ – Karen Fischer

Rebel Dyke Karen Fischer, known as Fisch, explains that, for many lesbian women, heading to Greenham was liberating. ‘It was like being alone on a desert island, then suddenly there were loads of you,’ she says. ‘It was like being a kid in a candy store. I was young, I was cute – why not?’

There was more at stake, though. ‘If people found out you were gay, you could lose your job, you could get your kids taken away,’ says Fisch. ‘Our lives were made political by the lifestyles we had.’ One Rebel Dyke told me how a Lesbian Strength March was followed by neo-fascists.

Lesbian Punk girls kissing London

Pink Paper

 Two women kiss at Pride (from Pink Paper) 

A major component of the Rebel Dykes’ ‘political lives’ was London’s squat culture. Squatting became a criminal offence in 2012, but in the ’80s it was a basic lifestyle option for
struggling young people. More than 30,000 people were reported to be living in squats in London at the start of the decade. With 3 million Brits out of work, a scene of artists, activists and musicians grew in our city’s squats. As women from Greenham drifted to London, a radical group formed among them.

Fahey ended up living – ironically – in a disused housing benefits office as well as sharing a room at a well-known house on Brailsford Road. ‘We lived in one street that was full of squats where we all took turns cooking at each other’s houses,’ she says, describing how there was a band practice room downstairs .‘There were lots of people in open relationships,’ says Fahey. ‘We had parties that would go on for days.’ It wasn’t all fun, though: drugs, Aids and homelessness affected the community.

The back page of ’80s squatters’ zine Crowbar

The Rebel Dykes were known for their liberal attitude towards sex . They launched London’s first lesbian fetish club, Chain Reactions, which caused uproar among other lesbian groups who were more conservative. Fahey says that the complaints only fuelled the night’s success. It was always packed out, with a different ‘sex cabaret’ each week. ‘Groups of women would come together to put it on and fall in and out of love while making it,’ she laughs. ‘We had pickets outside from other lesbians who thought that lesbians shouldn’t be doing this thing as it “wasn’t quite right”.’

Another popular night was Systematic at Brixton’s Women’s Centre, run by promoter Yvonne Taylor. ‘It was different to other club nights at the time,’ she says. ‘Because it brought in a whole range of different types of women: black, white, young, old, butch and femme.’ Taylor still hosts a monthly night – Supersonic – and says she’s enjoyed watching London’s nightlife become more inclusive in recent years. She’s not the only Rebel Dyke still involved with London’s LGBT+ nightlife, Fisch still performs as drag king Frankie Sinatra.

  ‘I would climb into first-storey windows, take parts of security doors off and change locks’ – Atalanta Kernick

Beyond clubbing the Rebel Dykes’ lives were centred on punk bands and protests. They took part in anti-apartheid, Stop the Bomb and Support the Miners demos as well as early Pride marches. ‘I’ve got a photo of me carrying a banner that reads: “Brixton Dykes Demand Wages for Bashing Bailiffs”,’ says Rebel Dyke Atalanta Kernick. ‘It’s a play on a campaign for women demanding wages for housework. Another was made out of pink mesh and had cats embroidered on it. It said: “Brixton Dykes Make Pussies Purr”.’

Lesbians are fucking everywhere. London Punks

T-shirt made to promote fetish night Chain Reactions

As a teenager with an acid-green mohican, Kernick moved into her first squat in 1985 with a woman she met at Greenham Common. ‘I would climb into first-storey windows, take parts of security doors off and change locks,’ she says. ‘I did a building maintenance course, then carpentry, electrics and plumbing.’ She was one of a number of women who used the skills they learned squatting to take cash-in-hand trade jobs.

Rebel Dykes now: Kernick, Fisch (left), Fahey, Taylor (right) 

Eventually Kernick left London, but the era remains a key part of who she is. After living up north for 15 years, she returned to the city after reconnecting with another Rebel Dyke. ‘We used to flirt in the squats when we were 18,’ Kernick smiles. ‘We’ve been together five years now.’

For Fahey, the Rebel Dyke years are still relevant. She sees her film as a way to connect with today’s queer activists. ‘Sometimes young people look at us like: “You’re so brave”,’ she says. ‘But we had the dole, squats and no CCTV. I look at them in awe.’

Help the Rebel Dykes make their film at www.rebeldykes1980s.com/donate-to-us.

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Todd Youth,Agnostic Front, Warzone, Murphys Law Dies

Todd Youth (Warzone, Murphy’s Law, etc) reportedly passed away

by Andrew Sacher October 27, 2018 2:25 PM

Todd Youth passes away, a huge loss to the Punk Rock community worldwide

NYHC legend Todd Youth, who played in Agnostic Front, Warzone, Murphy’s Law, D Generation, Danzig, and more, and most recently Fireburn, has reportedly passed away. Todd’s Fireburn bandmate Ras Israel Joseph I (also formerly of Bad Brains) posted on Facebook:

On the passing of my friend, and my Brother Todd Youth
There are no words to express how sad I am at the passing of my brother Todd Youth. The music he made will forever be remembered, and I’m so thankful that I was able to work with him and that we created Fireburn together. Todd and I were living separate lives doing hardcore and reggae music. We met each other in 1992 and then never spoke again until 2017. We created Fireburn within two weeks of knowing each other and finished writing two of my favorite hardcore records that I ever worked on: “Don’t stop the youth”, and “Shine”. Closed casket records signed the band and we were on our way. We had great shows and lots of people showed up to them. We toured with gbh from England, hung out with the guys from Negative Approach, and got our blessings about our music and our records from the Bad Brains. I know that Todd is now resting in peace and I know that Krishna is taking his soul to a better place. He was a devout Hari Krishna and The Devout human being. Todd wherever you are I hope that we will make music again one day. Life is a circle and I know I’ll meet you again in that circle brother. We will meet again. Rest In Peace, Rest In Power, rest my brother. I am saddened that we cannot make music again together, but I am happy that you are finally going home to be with Krishna that Haile Selassie has finally giving you peace and comfort my brother. one day, I too will lay down and die. This body that I ware is temporary. I will probably be alone. They’re probably be no one around me. However I know that I will join you and all of our other friends in that good place and we’ll all see each other again. I’m sorry you died Todd. I’m sorry I can’t see you again. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. You are my friend and my brother and I love you. Rest in peace my brother. May your visit to our Heavenly Home be full of peace, and comfort, and closeness to Krishna. Haribo. Haile Selassie I. FIREBURN.

Todd Youth live on stage

NYHC show promoters BlacknBlue Productions also posted, “I can’t ….. A very sad day for NYHC FAMILY . 😞😞😞🙏🏼🙏🏼 Todd Youth . We love you . Condolences to all friends & family . Tell the people you love that you love them any chance you get.”

Todd was always such a positive character and passionate about his music. The scene has lost a great character. On behalf of The British Skinhead and Punk scene I send my most sincere thoughts and love to all his family and friends across the pond

Symond ( subcultz ) England

Hatebreed also posted a tribute:

Rest in peace, Todd. You’ll be missed and your crucial contributions to NYHC and beyond will live on.

Watch the full set video of Todd playing with Warzone for the Raybeez tribute in 2017, stream the latest Fireburn single, and listen to one of the Murphy’s Law classics he recorded with them:

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Doug and The Slugz confirmed for Great Skinhead Reunion Brighton England June 2019

Doug And The Slugz from Los Angeles. Original 1983 American Oi band confirmed for Great Skinhead Reunion 2019.

Doug And The Slugz American Oi! band 1983. Live at The Great Skinhead Reunion 2019

Many of us British skinheads had no idea we were making waves across the globe, to many of us we lived our lives on our council estate ‘The Manor’ If a gig happened in a neighbouring town or City we might venture off. A bank holiday down to Brighton, or a London gig was as far as our world existed, We were blacklisted and ostracized in the media, hated by many, Understood by Few. But across the globe our subculture of skinheads was hatching, breaking out and building. As times changed and fashions moved on. Our Skinhead culture developed and spread. The USA and UK have always inter related with music and fashion. The skinhead culture no exception. We warmly welcome Doug And The Slugz to The Great Skinhead Reunion, Brighton England. June 2019

Doug & The Slugz formed in February 1983 in the North East Los Angeles suburb of South Pasadena, California. The bands original members consisted of Scott Graham on guitar, Doug Kane on vocals, Marc “Sard” Overton on bass, and Kevin Flanagan on drums. During the early months of 1983 the band would have its first rehearsals in original drummer Kevin Flanagan’s garage.

The Slugz were inspired by Oi! bands like the 4 Skins, The Last Resort and The Business but records from these UK bands were a bit difficult to locate in Southern California in the early 1980’s. Most record stores that carried underground music kept their shelves stocked with the more popular Los Angeles Hardcore bands like Black Flag, Circle Jerks, TSOL and assorted English punk imports. Oi! music was not very well known at this time in the United States but Kane, Graham and Overton had become bored with the local LA punk sound that was becoming increasingly stagnant and went reaching out for something different. With Oi! music they were attracted to the aggressive skinhead attitude and the solidarity between skinheads. It was the ultimate “us against them” working class music that drove these 3 Los Angeles teenagers to start one of the very first skinhead Oi! bands on the US West Coast. On the East Coast, Iron Cross from DC had established itself as an early Oi! influenced band, Agnostic Front out of NYC, The Effigies in Chicago, and way out on the West Coast was Doug and the Slugz.

Kids from the neighborhood would pile into Flanagan’s garage so they could hear the songs and get drunk. Many of these neighborhood kids quickly got hooked on the sounds of Oi! music. They shaved their heads and embraced the skinhead fashion of Doctor Marten Boots, Braces, and Combat Jackets. Just like Los Angeles, these kids were a mix of white, black, latino and asian that found common ground in the music. Crown City Firm was an early name given to this group of kids that mostly resided in the Pasadena area. “Crown City” being an old nickname for the city of Pasadena and “Firm” was a nod to the more extreme supporters of English football clubs. One particular inspiration was a black & white magazine photo that hung on the wall in Scott Graham’s room of a Fulham Firm skinhead.

Due to the increasing number of kids turning up from the surrounding North East Los Angeles neighborhoods, the name was changed to better reflect this group of kids, and as a broader territory designation. This loyal following became known as the North Side Firm and would follow the band wherever they were given the go ahead to play.

In April 1983 local San Gabriel punk band Decry, invited Doug & The Slugz to play their first real club show at the infamous punk dive, Roxanne’s Bar, located in Arcadia, Ca. The bar owner Joe would allow the under age punks to come in and watch the bands play while at the back of the bar sat middle aged Vietnam war veterans and drunk bikers. The mixed company found no liking to one another and at times that would result in fist fights in the alley behind the bar.

By Summer of 1983, original bass player Sard Overton was replaced by local skinhead Craig Pousen. Pousen would frequent shows at Roxannes Bar and help the band out with transportation when needed. The Slugz carried on through the Summer and Fall of 1983 delivering their brand of the Oi! skinhead sound to backyard San Gabriel Valley punk rock parties and occasionally crossed into Hollywood.

This new line up molded quickly and the band started recording demo tapes with local producer Devin Thomas at South West Sound Studio in Sierra Madre, Ca. The first printed cassettes were being sold and given away at shows. Some of those songs, like “Skinhead Faction”, was getting radio play on Sunday nights by legendary DJ Rodney Bingenheimer (Rodney On The Roq) on the world famous 106.7 KROQ radio station.

Doug & The Slugz had officially arrived on the LA punk rock scene supporting bands such as Ill Repute, Decry, Stalag 13, Flower Leopards, The Grim, and Mad Parade. As the band became a bit bigger, so did The Firm and certain promoters started shying away from letting the Slugz play their venues. Club owners became well aware that when the band arrived, not far behind it was the gang and the violence they brought with them. The frequent violence surrounding the band would eventually draw the attention of both local law enforcement and the LAPD. The North Side Firm found themselves listed as one of the very few multi racial gangs on the Los Angeles County Sheriff gang task force list.

The band knew they needed to get with a record label as soon as possible to get their music out to more skinheads. The skinhead scene in 1983 on the West Coast of the United States still had small numbers. Kane and Graham knew that if they were going to have any luck with releasing a record they would have to talk with someone in the UK who better understood what they were doing. Kane had been in touch with Mark Brennan, the bassist from the London Oi! band The Business. Kane sent the demo tape to their label Secret Records and to No Future Records hoping he would have some luck. There was never any reply from Secret or No Future Records so Kane turned to the infamous skinhead clothing store The Last Resort in east London hoping for better results. The Last Resort band had released their “Skinhead Anthems” album with the store. Kane had ordered it directly from the shop months prior, so he knew the store was releasing records. After a few weeks and no return letter, they gave the store a call. Lo and behold, they got owner Micky French on the phone. French got a kick out hearing the voices on the other end, all the way from sunny southern California. He told Kane that he did receive the demo tape and thought the music was great! He said that he was even playing their music in the shop for the skinhead patrons! He mentioned that he might put out another compilation at some point on his record label and asked that the band stay in touch.

In 1984 Doug & The Slugz went back in the studio to record one last batch of songs, and this time they would recruit 13 year old Aaron Sperske to beat on the drums. Sperske replaced Flanagan, and the band carried on playing numerous shows throughout Los Angeles. Over time, The Firm would become fully integrated with and within the band. The band and the gang became one. In addition, Graham and Kane found themselves in and out of jail for numerous crimes. Needless to say, gigs became difficult to get. The Firms’ numbers swelled by the Summer of 1984 to over 100 skinheads throughout Los Angeles County. The North Side Firm found itself in constant battles with other well known Los Angeles punk gangs like the Suicidal Tendencies Gang, FFF (Fight For Freedom), LADS (LA Death Squad). LMP (La Mirada Punks), Circle One Family, HRP (Hollywood Rat Patrol), etc.. Not only were there gang wars with these numerous punk gangs but the North Side Firm became entangled with Mexican street gangs as well as Crip and Blood gangs.

By October of 1984, Doug & The Slugz changed their name to The Risk in an attempt to salvage things and find a new start.

They landed numerous gigs and got rave reviews, but things quickly began to unravel in California with the spread of racism within the skinhead scene.

1985 arrived and The Risk and The Firm found themselves at the forefront of fighting off any neo nazi skinheads that attempted to show up to their gigs. Despite all the trouble brewing and the various challenges on the band, The Risk managed to keep playing until September 1985. Their final rehearsal would be at the renowned punk rehearsal spot Hully Gully Studios. Located in Atwater, Ca, Hully Gully Studios frequently hosted bands like X, The Pretenders, and The Blasters. As The Risk turned up the amplifiers for what became the very last time, the mood in the room was dim. The boys knew this would be the last time they would play these songs together. Three long turbulent years had taken its toll on the band. The violence, the incarcerations, the drugs, and the booze had just become too much for any of them to carry on playing music together. As the mid 1980’s came to an end, Graham and Kane would dive further down the dead end road of gangs and crime while Pousen and Sperske slipped into drug fueled abandon. The very first Oi! Skinhead band in Los Angeles would now become history.

Looking back, this was a time when youth tribalism was still taken very serious. There was very little intermingling between the tribes. Most of us were punks before becoming skinheads. As punk rockers, it felt like everyone was against you, but punk rock by the late 70’s/early 80’s had an infrastructure in place. By the early 1980’s, Los Angeles had several punk record stores, dozens of venues, and punk rock parties happening somewhere just about every night. As a skinhead, the options narrowed significantly. Skinhead pre-dates punk rock by nearly a decade but even today remains relatively scarce on the cultural radar. You often felt like outcasts among outcasts. The upside was that very strong bonds developed. You became hyper protective of your friends and where you hung out. Train track embankments, bridge underpasses, and garages converted into rehearsal/party spaces became sacred ground.

By the late 1980’s, a few highly publicized incidents in the US by neo-nazi “skinheads” had attracted media attention and public perception of skinheads has subsequently been a resoundingly negative one. Those that don’t already know its history, aren’t likely to go looking and those that know…know.

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My mum, The Punk Rock pioneer of X-Ray Spex : Poly Styrene’s daughter Celeste Bell

My mum, the punk pioneer: Poly Styrene’s daughter remembers the X-Ray Spex leader

Six years since her death, the punk singer remains hugely influential. Her daughter reflects on learning ‘the family business’, how fame nearly broke her mother – and why she’s making a film of her life

Celeste Bell

Poly Styrene in her early days.
Poly Styrene Punk girl icon

 Poly Styrene in her early days.
Photograph: Anorak London

Even when I was really young, I knew what my mum did for a living. She was always working on something: writing music, recording, doing interviews. As I got older, she’d tell me about the punk movement, about the musicians she knew and what it was all about.

We lived with my grandmother on and off through that period, and she saw punk very differently. For my grandmother being a punk meant things like wearing odd-coloured socks, which she didn’t approve of. Even Mum didn’t like a lot about punk, too. There was loads she found exciting, of course, but she’d tell me plenty of the negative stuff: the aggressiveness of the crowds, the spitting on stage, how very few women were present at many of these gigs – and how that made her terribly anxious about performing. I realised later she was trying to warn me off becoming any kind of performer, in case I got any ideas.

Poly Styrene with her X-Ray Spex bandmates in 1978.
 Poly Styrene with her X-Ray Spex bandmates in 1978. Photograph: Evening Standard/Getty Images

My mum was really a girl when she started playing music: she was 15 when she began performing, younger than most of the other female artists on the scene. Even though she was more talented and had more important things to say than a lot of her contemporaries, she felt she wasn’t taken seriously – not only because she was a young girl, but also because she was working class and didn’t finish school. All of this made it a massive challenge to get any respect from people in the music industry.

Poly Styrene: The Spex factor

When I was a young kid, in the late 80s, she was involved in the Hare Krishna movement. Through that she became friends with people such as Boy George and Chrissie Hynde. I assumed all this spiritual stuff and having well-known people coming and going was the norm. At some points, we were pretty much living in a temple, and everything revolved around Hare Krishna, including her music. I used to tell her: “Nobody’s interested in hearing songs about Krishna, Mum.” But she didn’t care.

Then, when I was 10 or 11, she reconnected with X-Ray Spex and started work on what would become the Conscious Consumer album. Soon after, she had her first website and she started being more in touch with fans. I began to realise just how many fans she had, and how worldwide her support was.

When I turned 15 she gave me a copy of Germfree Adolescents, and I started to understand what a great writer she was. I’d grown up listening to hip-hop and music like that of Rage Against the Machine – which, in the way of all parents, she didn’t approve of, as she told me it would encourage bad behaviour!

X-Ray Spex did a comeback gig at the Roundhouse in London in 2008, playing Germfree Adolescents in full, and my band opened the show. I’d already seen them play Brixton Academy but being up on stage brought home the size of the audience. I was also able to meet a lot of people in the audience at that gig – people would come up to me, say how much they loved X-Ray Spex and what my mum meant to them, which brought home how deep an impact she’d had.

Poly Styrene in 1991.
 Poly Styrene in 1991. Photograph: Ian Dickson/Redferns

When Mum passed away in 2011, lots of people came to the funeral who I wasn’t necessarily aware she’d known. There was so much genuine love, and genuine sadness – I was moved to see that depth of feeling for her.

My mum was quite a businesswoman in how she approached her music and legacy, and she always got me involved in “the family business”, such as writing for her website. And she even suggested I take over as leader of X-Ray Spex. She still hated performing, it brought back all those old anxieties, and I guess I could have done it – I do sound a lot like her, and in a certain way it could’ve been fun. But it would have been way, way too weird for me.

She was contradictory, though, and she remained apprehensive about me being a performer, because she said music remained a toxic environment for women. I wonder if my mum might have had a happier life if she hadn’t had that level of fame. She was always wondering what might have happened if she hadn’t dropped out of school, and although the music brought her excitement and opportunities that most people never have, it also robbed her of her mind in a sense. I think the experiences she had probably triggered latent mental health problems.

Poly Styrene performing

When I saw the documentary about Amy Winehouse, with her getting trapped by her success so young, I did notice a lot of parallels: fame, even on a small scale, really does break some people. But Mum didn’t let it get her completely – that’s why she never did what was expected of her musically. She might not have been able to recapture the unique thing she created with Germfree Adolescents, but she never let anyone tell her what to be. She was true to herself, always.

For these reasons, I wanted to make a film about her – I’m currently raising money to create Poly Styrene: I Am a Cliche. Whenever I talk about her, I think what I really want people to realise is just what a great writer my mum was. Not just a symbol of something, or another part of the punk story, but an amazing talent. With Germfree Adolescents she built this whole world that touched on sci-fi, dystopias, social criticism, the role of women, all these things. I honestly think it’s one of the greatest records of the late 20th century. She was 15 or 16 when she started composing those songs, she hadn’t done her O-levels, she’d got into all sorts of trouble – but she could write this incredibly prophetic stuff and understand the world in a way I don’t think most of her contemporaries could. I am truly proud of her work, and my long-term goal is to get more people to understand this.

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2Tone Tour Remembered

The Specials, Madness and The Selecter: The 1979 2-Tone tour remembered

Stuart Edema and Symond Lawes. Specials Graffiti 1979 by Gavin Watson

Reading this piece online got me thinking about 2tone. what a year that was, i was 14 years old, 3rd year at Hatters Lane secondary modern school High Wycombe. Youth cultures were all the rage as Punk Rock had caused a revolution in 1976 when the Sex Pistols launched an all out assault on the establishment. The British youth were rising, and no longer would be tools for the wealthy.

Micklefield estate covered about a square mile just the other side of the Greenbelt which surrounds London, a border designed to stop the spread of the Metropolis, but in the 1950’s many families were moved out of bomb damaged London to new estates, with gardens and fresh air, my family came out of North London Tottenham area. The fire of a city kid was in my veins, handed down through blood. Punk and the Aggro answered that energy. Also on my estate was a large number of West Indians,who started arriving from around 1964 to work as nurses and bus drivers, mainly from the Caribbean Island of St Vincent, who bought with them Rice and Peas, gambling, Cannabis, Calypso and Reggae music, setting up sound systems in council flats, booming the bass across the yard like a earthquake murmur.

Richard , Felix, Symond 1980, By Gavin Watson

Most families on the estate were a sort of immigrant, like a mini New York, Polish who had stayed after world war two, cut off by Communism, Irish escaping the troubles in Northern Ireland, or just looking for a steady job. Londoners bombed out and finding peace in the suburbs. Many old WW2 soldiers tending perfect gardens, Italians, Indians all in the mix.

But at the same time a real lot of political turbulence, high unemployment, especially for the youth, we saw no future, the National Front were busy recruiting the disenfranchised white working class, blaming immigration for the situation, the Socialist workers party condemning the views of the white working class, blaming them for the situation. Racial tension was at a knife edge. Music was the only thing that really drew people together, The Irish knew this with their rebel songs, The IRA were murdering people, bombing Belfast and mainland Britain. But something happened one Thursday night, which was for us our own revolution…. The Specials Gangsters hit the screen. 2tone  changed my life forever.

Like a religion we all would sit indoors for that one hour a week, no kids were out on the street, Top of the Pops would showcase the top bands climbing the charts that week. Often airing acts you had never heard of, The large labels latest signings, as kids we looked for our gernre, the music which appealed to our youth tribe, for me that was Skinhead or Punk bands. whether it was planned by Gerry Dammers, or those bands from London and Coventry. The Specials, Madness, Selector, Bodysnatchers, The Beat, Badmanners, or not, they certainly nailed the energy across our estate, kids that looked and dressed like us. Black and white wearing hand me down clothing with an edge and style, shaved heads and Dr Martens, Reggae and Punk in the same song… My emotions exploded in a musical excitement frenzy. Fuck David Bowie……We were on Top Of The Pops!!!!!

Amazing to think after almost 40 years on Live in brighton 7th September, Neville Staple with his band performing many of those original songs mixed with some throughout his career ever since. Supported by a bran new band to take the music into today generation Dakka Skanks

  • ***********************************************************************************************************************************
  • This part below from Uncut Magazine
  • Uncut
  • May 6, 2014

I was reminiscing with an old friend over the weekend about The Specials, his favourite band. Our chat brought us to the great 1979 2-Tone Tour that featured The Specials, supported by Madness and The Selecter, a snapshot of which now duly follows.

The Specials Live on stage 2Tone Tour 1979

I was reminiscing with an old friend over the weekend about The Specials, his favourite band. Our chat brought us to the great 1979 2-Tone Tour that featured The Specials, supported by Madness and The Selecter, a snapshot of which now duly follows.

__________

October, 1979.

There are 43 alarm calls booked for this morning and – woe, pitiful woe! – they’ve started going off already, one of them heading this way.

The shrill exclamatory shrieks of the alarms is usually followed by weary grumbling moans and the thud of people rolling out of beds in rooms all along this wing of Swindon’s Crest Motel, where the cast of the 2-Tone Tour are beginning now to assemble in the lobby, pale-faced and hungover. The motel staff in startling contrast are, meanwhile, crisp and morning-bright, with gleaming toothpaste smiles and the brisk efficient manner of people with things to do.

Specials’ singer Terry Hall is here to see off his girlfriend, who’s going home to Coventry. And here comes The Specials’ unlikely mastermind, Jerry Dammers, lumbering into view, an awkward shambling figure in a shabby raincoat. He manages a smile, briefly. Woody, the young drummer with Madness, who looks about, I don’t know, 12 or something, lights his first fag of the day and immediately starts coughing like a Kentucky miner, stricken with Black Lung or something similarly serious.

“My body’s had enough of me,” he splutters, doubling up in a fit of coughing and hacking away so violently I wouldn’t be surprised to see his eyebrows fly across the room, followed possibly by his teeth. He finds a chair and collapses into it, his face drained of colour.

We’re only three days into the tour and some of the people in the lobby around me, which has taken on the look of a field hospital in a 19th century war, look like they won’t see the end of it.

Of course, it was all very different just a few short days ago when on a gloriously sunny autumn afternoon I’d arrived at The Roundhouse, up there in Chalk Farm, where The Specials, Madness and The Selecter had spent the previous week rehearsing for the 40 date tour ahead of them. When I get to there, The Roundhouse is as they say buzzing, the place noisy with chat and laughter. The coach that’s been hired to take us all to Brighton for the tour’s opening night is already an hour late, which means before we’ve even started we’re behind schedule. No one seems to care.

The three bands are strung out across the Roundhouse bar. The Selecter and Specials mingle, wander and joke. Madness are quaffing light and bitters, being noisy. They look like a gang of spotty kids waiting to be taken on a day trip to the seaside, yelping and impatient.

The 2tone tour reaches Brighton 1979

A friend of mine named Kellogs who works for Stiff as a tour manger is standing at the bar, watching them. When Stiff signed Madness, they were put in his paternal care. He’s just finished a fortnight on the road with the rascals, and they’ve nearly brought him to his knees.

“They make me feel so old,” he says wearily. “They just don’t stop. Up till four every morning, boozing. Look at them. . .”

We look at them. Down the hatch go another seven pints.

“They’re fucking loving it,” says Kellogs. “They’re on top of the fucking world. A hit single, on the telly, on the road away from mum, drinking, smoking – all yobbos together. They’re having the time of their lives.”

“Annuver 300 pints of light and bitter,” cry Madness in unison as the coach finally pulls up outside The Roundhouse.

There are 40 of us on the bus and Madness inevitably are making most of the noise – shouting, swearing, clambering over the backs of seats, drinking, making ridiculous faces at the crowds on Oxford Street. Woody is especially boisterous, swigging from a half bottle of Scotch, one hefty slug after another, red-faced and increasingly wild-eyed.

Steve English, who’s providing one-man security for the tour, is sitting across the aisle from him. Steve, who’s worked as a bodyguard for, among others, Marvin Gaye, The Sex Pistols, The Clash and boxer John Conteh and is built like a Sherman tank, looks at Woody grappling with the deleterious effects of the whiskey and laughs, the sound he makes like a drain being sucked clear by complicated mechanical equipment.

“Silly little fucker,” he says of Woody. “If he carries on like that for the next six weeks, we’ll have to carry him off this fucking tour in fucking casket.”

The coach is outside Brighton Top rank now, where dozens of skinheads are waiting for Madness, led by Prince Nutty, whose mug beams also from the centre of the inner sleeve of One Step Beyond, Madness’ debut album. Prince Nutty is surrounded by a gang of fearsome-looking cronies.

“Remember me?” one of them asks Suggs. “I danced on stage wiv yer at the Rock Garden. Remember?”

“Yeah, ‘course I remember you,” says Suggs, who clearly doesn’t, pushing his way into the Top Rank, where we find a place to talk and are joined by a rather wobbly Woody. Kellogs had told me earlier that when Madness played Brighton Polytechnic recently on a brief warm-op tour for the current trek, a mob of British Movement supporters had turned up at the gig, threatening trouble.

“They didn’t do nuthin’, though,” Woody says. “They just stood around in the bar talking very loudly about Adolf Hitler.”

In Oldham, Kellogs had also said, a security check on the audience as they arrived at the gig led to the confiscation of a number of weapons – knives, even a home-made mace among them. There’d been a riot in Huddersfield, the group’s van trashed and a film crew terrorised. Suggs is sensitive on the subject of the band’s skinhead fans, but abhors the BM and the idea that Madness are a focal point for their politics.

“There’s no way we’re political,” he argues. “We’re certainly not fucking fascists. If we were fascists, what would we be doing playing ska and bluebeat? If we’d wanted to talk about politics we’d have formed a debating society, not a fucking band.”

The Brighton show is sensational. By the time The Specials play “A Message To You, Rudi”, most of the audience appear to be on stage with them, and those that aren’t are dragging the ones who are back into the crowd so they can take their brief place in the spotlight.

The group fight their way off stage through this demented rabble but find the safe haven of their dressing room picketed by a group of angry feminists who’ve been incensed by some off-colour remarks by Terry Hall and the description of the Melody Maker journalist Vivien Goldman, who’d unenthusiastically reviewed their debut album, as “a stupid cow”.

They now berate the unapologetic Hall at rowdy length. Their ring-leader notices Dammers, standing behind Terry, a bemused witness to the women’s wrath.

“And what have you got to say for yourself?” she loudly demands.

Jerry looks at her, grins gummily.

“Would you like to come to a party with me?” he asks her, ducking the blow he knows is coming.

Photo credit: Clare Muller/PYMCA /REX , Gavin Watson

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PYMC British Subculture fashion

Chuka and Dubem, twins wearing Mod / Ska, Rude Boy style, London, 1979

Fashion

THE STYLE HERITAGE OF YOUTH CULTURE > PYMCA

By Fused · On October 14, 2014

Quietly simmering gently for over a decade Jon Swinstead of PYMCA has skillfully collected together work by the best of national and international photographers with a passion for street and club culture.

Swinstead’s paced strategy has been to save potentially sinking cultural treasure that deserves global recognition. Year-by-year staff such as Jamie Brett reach their white-gloved tentacles into the most unexpected sections of society in search of insightful visual documentation by all manner of photographers and writers, delivering style heritage with substance. Such work is then swooped upon by curators, making a ‘street’ to V&A step look so easy.

The PYMCA site is a visual beehive, swarming with picture editors in search of images from the dawn of Photography to now. Alongside industry insiders from the world of Advertising to Music, there are students of Fashion Design, Photography and Fashion-related areas such as Styling and PR, clicking through the vast Education section; style stalking in amongst every youth tribe that I will not list here as it is so extensive. From Teds to… you get the picture.

Swinstead and his team seek out the most seductive aspect of style: the unexpected. It is the originators and innovators that form the solid backbone to the archive, with the focus extending to early adopters that makes fashion forecasting companies appear to be somewhat lagging along with early mainstreamers.

Sure, in amongst sections that explore and reflect everything from forty years of PUNK to strutting peacocks on the cobbles of Somerset House during the feeding frenzy of Fashion Week, there’ll be the inclusion of normcore, but such images are always selected with a certain eye.

It is the resourcefulness of youth that excites Swinstead, from one style cycle to the one that quickly emerges as a consequence, or angry reaction to. The meticulous archiving of youth culture is vital, essential, as such momentary history is vulnerable, at risk of being lost.

No gallery, as yet, exists for the collecting of such material anywhere in the world. No gallery, as yet, regularly hosts work by photographers such as Ray Stevenson, Janette Beckman, Derek Ridgers, Caroline Coon, Gavin Watson, Sheila Rock or the new wave of photographers, such as Molly Macindoe and Dean Davies of TRIP magazine.

PYMCA is of value and global importance in terms of the vast strata of social and fashion history that it holds. Whilst digital files are of immediate commercial use to television networks and publishers such as Phaidon, Laurence King and Harper Collins, it is the Fine Art work of printers such as Bob Wiskin (Grade One Photographic), Debbie Sears (Debbie Sears In Black & White) and Peter Guest (The Image) that collectors are now excitedly investing in and knocking on the door of PYMCA’s office to get their white gloves upon.

PYMCA, a mix of ingredients… simmering away quietly for over a decade… now ready to serve.

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NOFX Upset Vegas media with a sick joke on shootings

Anti-Trump Band NOFX Tells Vegas Audience ‘At Least It Was Country Fans’ Killed in Oct. Shooting

ByLaura LoomerPosted on May 30, 2018 

     COMMENTS

In a shockingly distasteful comment made on stage, the lead singer of punk band NOFX said he was happy country music fans died in the Las Vegas shooting.

Michael John Burkett, who calls himself “Fat Mike,”made the comment while preforming with his band at the Punk Rock Bowling Music Festival in downtown Las Vegas over Memorial Day weekend.

In between songs, Burkett said to the audience, “We played a song and didn’t get shot. There’s no getting shot in Vegas unless you’re in a country band. That sucks, but at least it was country fans and not punk rock fans” who died in Las Vegas shooting.

Watch below 

https://youtu.be/up7w3anxLho

Eight months has passed since the Las Vegas shooting in which 58 people were murdered and over 800 injured at the Route 91 County Music Festival. Police say alleged gunman Stephen Paddock opened fire from his 32nd floor suite at the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino onto thousands of people attending the concert.

Las Vegas continues to grieve over the attack that shocked the world but that didn’t seem to bother the aging punk band, which has been around since 1983. NOFX continued to make jokes throughout their performance about the shooting.

NOFX and Burkett, 51, are no strangers to controversy and making distasteful remarks during performances. Last year at the same music festival in Las Vegas, “Fat Mike” decapitated a naked statue of Donald Trump on stage and proceeded to beat it with a baseball bat. Before decapitating the statue, he said, “If you’re a Trump supporter, fuck you, and get the fuck out of our scene.”

Several people who attended the punk rock festival over the weekend took to social media to express outrage and disgust over the comments.

Andrea@drea1439  

Dear #NOFX you’re not funny and until you’ve had to run for your life while being shot at for ten minutes, you have no right to utter a single word about that night! Please don’t return to Vegas.

Unreal. Enjoy the rest of your time in obscurity #NOFX. I looked for a photo in our image bank for this story and the most recent one was taken in 2009.https://995qyk.com/2018/05/30/band-jokes-las-vegas-shootings-saying-least-country-fans/ …5:28 PM – May 30, 2018 · Tampa, FL

Band Jokes About Las Vegas Shootings Saying “At Least They Were Country Fans”

NOFX thought it would be “hilarious” to joke about the October 1 shootings while on stage in Las Vegas. They said “at least they were country fans and not punk rock fans”. This is disgusting and…

‘We crossed the line of civility’ – NOFX issue apology after joking about Las Vegas shooting

image: http://ksassets.timeincuk.net/wp/uploads/sites/55/2018/05/2018_nofxgetty_1000x635-920×584.jpg

Fat Mike of NOFX

Fat Mike of NOFX By Damian Jones Jun 4, 2018 2:55 pm

Band also spark a backlash on social media

NOFX have apologised after the punk icons were slammed for joking about last year’s Las Vegas shooting.

During a recent set at the Punk Rock Bowling & Music Festival in the city, the band spoke out about the Route 91 Harvest Festival shooting last October that left 58 people dead.

“I guess you only get shot in Vegas if you’re in a country band,” guitarist Eric Melvin joked before frontman Fat Mike interjected: “At least they were country fans and not punk rock fans.”

The joke provoked a huge backlash and prompted Stone Brewing Co. – the San Diego Brewery behind NOFX’s beer and music festival both called Punk In Drublic – to sever ties with the band.

“We at Stone Brewing are aware of NOFX’s insensitive and indefensible statements this past weekend. As a result, we are severing all our ties with NOFX, including festival sponsorship and the production of our collaboration beer,” a representative for the company said in a statement.

Now, the band have issued a full apology for their comments, describing the episode as “shameful”.

“There’s no place here to backpedal. What NOFX said in Vegas was shameful. We crossed the line of civility. We can’t write songs about how people in this world need to be more decent, when we were clearly being indecent. Las Vegas has always been a welcoming city to our band, and to make light of the tragedy that occurred there was egregious”, NOFX wrote in a Facebook post.

“All members of the band would like to sincerely apologize to anyone who experienced loss from the Vegas shooting 8 months ago, and to anyone who was at our show who lost a loved one or a friend, or who had to witness the incredibly senseless violence that night.

“We were asked why we didn’t release an immediate apology. Well, we didn’t feel that we could write a sincere apology without reflecting on the actual damage we had done. No press agent was gonna write this for us. That’s why we have struggled with this for the past few days.”

The group added: “We didn’t plan or intend on saying anything so insensitive. It was off the cuff, but just as hurtful. We won’t blame it on drugs or alcohol or Ambien. That’s too easy. NOFX said it, and we own it. We made a tasteless joke. But to be clear, NOFX does not condone violence against ANY group of people, period!

“As sincere as we’ve ever been.”

Founders of the Punk Rock Bowling Festival also apologised for NOFX’s comments.

They said in a statement: “In light of NOFX’s comments during their performance at the Punk Rock Bowling and Music Festival, we would like to offer a formal apology to those in attendance, the City of Las Vegas, the victims and their families of 10/1.

“Las Vegas is home to the Punk Rock Bowling & Music Festival, and we do not condone statements made from our stage on Sunday night. We take the safety of our festival goers seriously and want to relay that, there is nothing funny about people being shot and murdered, ever.”

NOFX’s joke sparked a backlash on Twitter with one user writing: “NOFX thought it would be ‘hilarious’ to joke about the October 1 shootings while on stage in Las Vegas. They said ‘at least they were country fans and not punk rock fans’. This is disgusting and callous. We will never support anything involving this band ever again.”

Another added: “I’ve been a fan of @FatMike_of_NOFX and his band since I was a kid. His comment about the Vegas shooting makes me sick. Fuck you. You just lost tons of fans.”

  •  

As NOFX once said, “It’s up to you to stand up to the bullshit that’s happening in this country.”

Surely NOFX won’t mind if Americans and the music industry stand up to someone who thinks country music fans deserve to die over other groups of people.

As of press time, NOFX did not respond to requests for comment.

feature image via Loudwire

Laura Loomer is a conservative investigative journalist and activist. She is the author of What Happens In Vegas, forthcoming from Dangerous Books. Follow her on Twitter @LauraLoomer

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Neville Staple with Dakka Skanks Live in Brighton, . Concorde 2, Sept 7th

Anti-Trump Band NOFX Tells Vegas Audience ‘At Least It Was Country Fans’ Killed in Oct. Shooting

Laura Loomer

ByLaura LoomerPosted on May 30, 2018 

     COMMENTS

In a shockingly distasteful comment made on stage, the lead singer of punk band NOFX said he was happy country music fans died in the Las Vegas shooting.

Michael John Burkett, who calls himself “Fat Mike,”made the comment while preforming with his band at the Punk Rock Bowling Music Festival in downtown Las Vegas over Memorial Day weekend.

In between songs, Burkett said to the audience, “We played a song and didn’t get shot. There’s no getting shot in Vegas unless you’re in a country band. That sucks, but at least it was country fans and not punk rock fans” who died in Las Vegas shooting.

Watch below 

https://youtu.be/up7w3anxLho

Eight months has passed since the Las Vegas shooting in which 58 people were murdered and over 800 injured at the Route 91 County Music Festival. Police say alleged gunman Stephen Paddock opened fire from his 32nd floor suite at the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino onto thousands of people attending the concert.

Las Vegas continues to grieve over the attack that shocked the world but that didn’t seem to bother the aging punk band, which has been around since 1983. NOFX continued to make jokes throughout their performance about the shooting.

NOFX and Burkett, 51, are no strangers to controversy and making distasteful remarks during performances. Last year at the same music festival in Las Vegas, “Fat Mike” decapitated a naked statue of Donald Trump on stage and proceeded to beat it with a baseball bat. Before decapitating the statue, he said, “If you’re a Trump supporter, fuck you, and get the fuck out of our scene.”

Several people who attended the punk rock festival over the weekend took to social media to express outrage and disgust over the comments.

Andrea@drea1439  

Dear #NOFX you’re not funny and until you’ve had to run for your life while being shot at for ten minutes, you have no right to utter a single word about that night! Please don’t return to Vegas.

Unreal. Enjoy the rest of your time in obscurity #NOFX. I looked for a photo in our image bank for this story and the most recent one was taken in 2009.https://995qyk.com/2018/05/30/band-jokes-las-vegas-shootings-saying-least-country-fans/ …5:28 PM – May 30, 2018 · Tampa, FL

Band Jokes About Las Vegas Shootings Saying “At Least They Were Country Fans”

NOFX thought it would be “hilarious” to joke about the October 1 shootings while on stage in Las Vegas. They said “at least they were country fans and not punk rock fans”. This is disgusting and…

‘We crossed the line of civility’ – NOFX issue apology after joking about Las Vegas shooting

image: http://ksassets.timeincuk.net/wp/uploads/sites/55/2018/05/2018_nofxgetty_1000x635-920×584.jpg

Fat Mike of NOFX

Fat Mike of NOFX By Damian Jones Jun 4, 2018 2:55 pm

Band also spark a backlash on social media

NOFX have apologised after the punk icons were slammed for joking about last year’s Las Vegas shooting.

During a recent set at the Punk Rock Bowling & Music Festival in the city, the band spoke out about the Route 91 Harvest Festival shooting last October that left 58 people dead.

“I guess you only get shot in Vegas if you’re in a country band,” guitarist Eric Melvin joked before frontman Fat Mike interjected: “At least they were country fans and not punk rock fans.”

The joke provoked a huge backlash and prompted Stone Brewing Co. – the San Diego Brewery behind NOFX’s beer and music festival both called Punk In Drublic – to sever ties with the band.

“We at Stone Brewing are aware of NOFX’s insensitive and indefensible statements this past weekend. As a result, we are severing all our ties with NOFX, including festival sponsorship and the production of our collaboration beer,” a representative for the company said in a statement.

Now, the band have issued a full apology for their comments, describing the episode as “shameful”.

“There’s no place here to backpedal. What NOFX said in Vegas was shameful. We crossed the line of civility. We can’t write songs about how people in this world need to be more decent, when we were clearly being indecent. Las Vegas has always been a welcoming city to our band, and to make light of the tragedy that occurred there was egregious”, NOFX wrote in a Facebook post.

“All members of the band would like to sincerely apologize to anyone who experienced loss from the Vegas shooting 8 months ago, and to anyone who was at our show who lost a loved one or a friend, or who had to witness the incredibly senseless violence that night.

“We were asked why we didn’t release an immediate apology. Well, we didn’t feel that we could write a sincere apology without reflecting on the actual damage we had done. No press agent was gonna write this for us. That’s why we have struggled with this for the past few days.”

The group added: “We didn’t plan or intend on saying anything so insensitive. It was off the cuff, but just as hurtful. We won’t blame it on drugs or alcohol or Ambien. That’s too easy. NOFX said it, and we own it. We made a tasteless joke. But to be clear, NOFX does not condone violence against ANY group of people, period!

“As sincere as we’ve ever been.”

Founders of the Punk Rock Bowling Festival also apologised for NOFX’s comments.

They said in a statement: “In light of NOFX’s comments during their performance at the Punk Rock Bowling and Music Festival, we would like to offer a formal apology to those in attendance, the City of Las Vegas, the victims and their families of 10/1.

“Las Vegas is home to the Punk Rock Bowling & Music Festival, and we do not condone statements made from our stage on Sunday night. We take the safety of our festival goers seriously and want to relay that, there is nothing funny about people being shot and murdered, ever.”

NOFX’s joke sparked a backlash on Twitter with one user writing: “NOFX thought it would be ‘hilarious’ to joke about the October 1 shootings while on stage in Las Vegas. They said ‘at least they were country fans and not punk rock fans’. This is disgusting and callous. We will never support anything involving this band ever again.”

Another added: “I’ve been a fan of @FatMike_of_NOFX and his band since I was a kid. His comment about the Vegas shooting makes me sick. Fuck you. You just lost tons of fans.”

  •  

As NOFX once said, “It’s up to you to stand up to the bullshit that’s happening in this country.”

Surely NOFX won’t mind if Americans and the music industry stand up to someone who thinks country music fans deserve to die over other groups of people.

As of press time, NOFX did not respond to requests for comment.

feature image via Loudwire

Laura Loomer is a conservative investigative journalist and activist. She is the author of What Happens In Vegas, forthcoming from Dangerous Books. Follow her on Twitter @LauraLoomer

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Myspace sell Emo past to the Russians

Uh Oh: Myspace Just Sold All the Data About Your Emo Phase to the Russians

Well, this isn’t good.

Coheed Analytica, a data firm out of the United Kingdom that specializes in using people’s emo phases to undercut the authenticity of their current personas, has been exposed as having scraped the data for each emo myspace user and then selling that to the Russians, who have long sought to disrupt scene politics.Yup, you read that right- data showing every single profile song you chose, swoopy haircut selfie you posted, and bulletin you wrote has been sold to the Russians.

Proof is out that there was no house fire, no crazy ex girlfriend with a pair of scissors, no squirral invasion of your mothers loft for those old ‘Skinhead Photos’

Literally no one is going to believe you are a skinhead now. You’re fucked.

Even worse, people now rocking the Warrior catalogue and going to nostalgia-filled DJ nights may be exposed as ex-Mods who never even had an Emo phase.

Fuck off vladimir!

A spokesman said ”Our members are very concerned that our Ebay buying history maybe next inline for Russian intelligence, which will really rumble a few ‘faces’.

Of course Tom from Myspace is completely silent, refusing to acknowledge the invasion of privacy and serious undercutting of credibility this data breach presents. His lack of morals is one of the reasons I moved over to Facebook!

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This is England. Shane Meadows

Under my skin

Forget shoulder pads and Rick Astley – growing up in the 1980s was a riot of great music, fashion and subcultures, as new film This Is England shows. Here, director Shane Meadows recalls a youth of ska music, scrapping and a time when people ‘still cared’ about politics

Shane Meadows

Sat 21 Apr 2007 00.32 BSTFirst published on Sat 21 Apr 2007 

This is England
 Shane Meadows’ This is England has been one of the biggest British independent films of 2007

It’s easy to laugh at the 1980s. Many people base their memories on the stuff they see in those I Love The 80s TV shows: massive VHS recorders, Atari consoles and rubbish digital watches, all shown against a backing of Now That’s What I Call Music Vol 2. Then there was the way that people dressed: your mum with a deranged perm, your dad in a pair of grey leather slip-ons and your sister with a “Frankie Says Relax” T-shirt and a stack of love bites round her neck.

But my memories have more meaning than that. As a kid growing up in Uttoxeter, Staffs, it was a time of great music, brilliant fashion and a vibrant youth culture that makes today’s kids look dull and unimaginative by comparison. It was also a time of massive unrest when British people were still prepared to fight for the stuff they believed in. My new film, This Is England, is about all of these things.

Set in 1983, this is the first period film I have made. A great deal of it is based on my own childhood and I tried to recreate my memoirs of being an 11-year-old kid trying to fit in. It was a time when Uttoxeter, like the rest of the country, was awash with endless different youth tribes. There were new romantics, heavy rockers, smoothies, punks, goths, skins and mod revivalists who were into the Specials and 2 Tone. Then there were those pop culture kids who came into school wearing one green sock, one pink sock and some deely boppers on their head. People often looked daft, but were genuinely committed to their chosen denomination and would wear their identities on their sleeves with immense pride. In a town as small as Uttoxeter, though, there weren’t enough people for each sub culture to fill their own parties or clubs, so most weekends everyone would turn up at the same village hall disco and end up fighting.

Like most 11-year-old kids who wore jumpers with animals on, I got bullied by the older kids at school. So I looked for my own tribe to join. It was the skinhead movement that enamoured me the most. I remember seeing 10 or 15 of them at the bus shelter on my way home from school one summer night and thinking they were the most fearsome thing I had ever seen. Even though I was terrified of them, I was instantly attracted to them. To be a part of most of the other factions you had to be a little rich kid. But to be a skinhead, all you needed was a pair of jeans, some work boots, a white shirt and a shaved head. You could be transformed from a twerp into a fearsome warrior in 15 minutes. Skins appealed to me because they were like soldiers: they wore their outfits like suits of armour and demanded respect. There were playground myths that surrounded them and especially their Dr Martens boots. It was feared that a single kick from a DM boot would kill you or at the very least give you brain damage. I can remember kids refusing to fight unless the skinhead agreed to remove his fearsome boots first.

My older sister was going out with a skinhead who took me under his wing and taught me about the roots of the whole culture. He was a nice bloke who bore no relation to the stereotypical racist yob that people now associate with that time. It was him that I based the character of Woody on in the film. I learned from him that skinheads had grown out of working class English lads working side by side with west Indians in factories and shipyards in the late-60s. The black lads would take the whites to blues parties where they were exposed to ska music for the first time. Soon, Jamaican artists like Desmond Dekker, the Upsetters and Toots And The Maytals were making a living out of songs aimed directly at English white kids. This was where the whole skinhead thing came from – it was inherently multicultural. But nowadays when I tell people that I used to be a skinhead, they think I’m saying I used to be racist. My film shows how rightwing politics started to creep into skinhead culture in the 1980s and change people’s perception of it. This was a time when there were three and a half million people unemployed and we were involved in a pointless war in the Falklands. When people are frustrated and disillusioned that’s when you get extremist groups moving in and trying to exploit the situation. That’s what the National Front did in the early-80s. Skinheads had always taken pride in being working class and English so they were easy targets for the NF who said that their identities were under threat. They cultivated a real hatred of the Asian community. In the film, Combo represents the sort of charismatic leader the NF used to turn skinheads into violent street enforcers. Suddenly, all skinheads were branded the same way. But most of the real old skins who were into the music and the clothes went on to be scooter boys to separate themselves from the racism. I always wanted This Is England to tell the truth about skinheads.

As I started to make the film, other themes started to interest me. We had a relatively small budget so we couldn’t afford to recreate every last detail of the Uttoxeter of 1983. Instead, I set the scene by using archive news footage at the start and end of the film. Going though footage of the Falklands war really made me think again about the whole thing. As kids, we thought it was like going into a World Cup campaign. It was exciting and we were cheering on our lads to go and do the Argies. But the scenes of soldiers’ coffins shocked and appalled me.

In many ways the country was a mess. The miners’ strike was massive – they were killing scabs by throwing paving slabs from bridges onto cars. You had all the protesters and unrest at Greenham Common. But remembering all of these things made me nostalgic for a time when people were ready to stand up and say something. People cared about where the country was going. As the 1980s ended we had the poll tax riots which turned out to be the end of an era. Afterwards, it was like the nation lost its backbone. People were bought off. They were given a little bit of land, the right to buy their council house and put a little satellite dish on the front of it. They became content and lost their will to rock the boat.

The big difference between now and the period in which my film is set is our level of isolation. In 1983, people still cared about society as a whole but now they’ll keep their mouth shut as long as they’ve got the house, the job and the car they want. If you were a kid in 1983, you wouldn’t have a PlayStation to sit indoors alone with. You got your entertainment from mixing with a variety of different people. While making the film, I realised that all of my fondest childhood memories surrounded human contact: mucking about with mates or going camping. In 2007, people put less emphasis on that sort of thing and more on planning their careers and their TV viewing. As far as I’m concerned, if you’re working from nine to five then coming home to watch shows that your Sky box has recorded for you while you were out, you might as well be on a fucking drip.

This Is England is a snapshot of an era and a life that seems very dated now. It’s about sticking up for mates and beliefs.

The gang

This Is England’s tight group of mates are stranded in a drab, east Midlands town in 1983. Devoted to sharp dressing, ska music and each other, the warmth and harmony of their gang is threatened by the arrival of Combo – an older skinhead with an angry, racist agenda.

Smell

The gang’s token Boy George-alike becomes the object of young Shaun’s affections. Kindly, she gives him his first kiss.

Lol

Firm but fair leader of the girl-skins and girlfriend of Woody. Also the subject of unwanted advances from the sociopathic Combo.

Shaun

An isolated 12-year-old whose dad has been killed in the Falklands War. His transformation into a skinhead offers him a whole new life of friendship, DMs and braces.

Milky

The gang’s only black member becomes a target of abuse as certain members start to embrace the National Front.

Woody

A warm hearted leader who nurtures Shaun into a fully-fledged skin. He splits from the gang when Combo shows.

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How Fred Perry became a target of New York tabloids

Wimbledon tennis champion Fred Perry

Mod lad London

At far-right rallies across the U.S., an English tennis champion named Fred Perry hovers, invisible to the men unwittingly representing him. For the last two years, members of the Proud Boys cult of masculinity have worn Perry-branded striped-collar polo shirts with a Wimbledon-inspired laurel insignia as they shout at anti-fascist protesters and take rocks to the head. In blog posts and tweets dating back to 2014, their patriarch Gavin McInnes has instructed them that this — a Fred Perry cotton pique tennis shirt, always in black and yellow — is the proper armor for battling multiculturalism.

The Proud Boys at most have a few hundred active members, but they are a fixture at fascist “free speech” events like this month’s anti-Muslim marches, where they mingle with white supremacist and neo-Nazi groups. McInnes is eager to point out that the Proud Boys accept people of colour, Muslims, and Jewish people — so long as those members also “accept that the West is the best” and reject non-Western immigrants to America (McInnes is Canadian). But McInnes insists his followers are not themselves white supremacists, a clarification he has to make partially because Fred Perry polos have a history of popping up at any fashion orientated event across Europe and the Americas. The shirts have been a fixture in some form or another, in all their two-dozen-plus colorways, in modern and youth style for fifty years, here in the States but especially in England, where both the brand and the skinhead subculture that co-opted it are from.

    Skinheads High Wycombe 1986

In the mid-1960s, a movement emerged, which was to become a god send for very cheap headlines, to sell newspapers and movies. when first-generation ‘Black’ Jamaican and Barbadian Brits, whose parents had been recruited by the tens of thousands to help rebuild England after WWII, introduced their white working-class friends to ska, rocksteady, and rude boy style at clubs around London’s council estates. “You could see the music was bringing these different cultures together, and it was suggesting a possible way forward through understanding our differences,” Don Letts, a filmmaker, DJ, and BBC Radio host, who was born in London in 1956 to Jamaican parents, told The Outline. In 2016 he produced the BBC documentary The Story of Skinhead, mostly to correct the record on skinhead culture’s non-racist origins. “Politics wasn’t really something that we talked about. That was on our parents’ level. We just wanted to bond over music, clothes, and girls.”Amid England’s entrenched class consciousness, taking pride in looking nice as a working-class person inspired the white English kids to spin together their own heritage with their West Indian neighbors’ sleek suits, dress shoes, and generally smart style. “They went for things that were associated with the English upper class and looked clean and sharp but were more affordable, and Fred Perry was definitely one of those things,” Letts said. Paired with work boots and tight jeans, Perry’s designs for the tennis court became a subversive dig at English elitism. The look, which according to Letts appeared mostly on white kids but a few black ones, too, was also a response to flamboyant, middle and upper-class mod culture;
before the term “skinhead” finally began appearing in the late ‘60s, the young white kids with short-cropped hair and crisp workwear were called hard mods.

As young people were working out this visual identity, white English adults had become convinced that black and South Asian immigrants were taking their jobs and ruining the economy. In 1968, conservative MP Enoch Powell delivered a now-infamous, vitriolic speech in which he warned white Brits that they would soon be an oppressed minority in their own country, punished by a politically correct government for daring to reject multiculturalism. “After that speech, I felt the atmosphere change immediately,” Letts said. “Race really came into the picture and the scene became more hostile.” a perfect subject matter could be stired up and encouraged, the press were onto something. a big group of young uneducated, poor working class kids, that could become the modern devil in the midst, The modern antichrist

The more ostracized and feared they were, the stronger their identity became.Skinhead culture began migrating north, to predominantly white communities, which at that time was 95% of the Britain, where football matches were the main source of distraction from a deteriorating economy on a Saturday afternoon. Fred Perry’s wide color range gave fans plenty of options to show which team they supported, and the look emanated a tough edge well suited to the violence simmering underneath football culture. Ensconced in white suburban bubbles, these boys became a natural target for the U.K. National Front, (just as much as they were by fleet street), a rapidly growing white nationalist party founded in 1967 that often recruited outside football stadiums. Every fresh college grad journalist had easy meat for the first published piece The party also opened social clubs across northern England that hosted live music, giving working-class kids — many of whom, proud of their class status, by then identified and dressed as skinheads — a place to congregate and commiserate about their dimming futures. “But you could only get in if you signed up to be a member of the National Front, and up north it was probably the only club, and so of course they wanted to go there and hear music,” Letts explained. “A lot of it came down to ignorance and just following the herd. These kids didn’t have any formulated political views.”

Gavin McInnes Proud boys USA

We discussed this story, and Gavin McInnes, on our daily podcast, The Outline World Dispatch. As the ’70s progressed, mainstream media became fascinated with this young, fashionable, seemingly new strain of the far right. The skinheads loved it; the more ostracized and feared they were, the stronger their identity became. Like today’s Pepe trolls, any attention was a godsend. Even when framed as reprehensible, ignorant ideology aired in public forums exposed more people to the journalist’ views and legitimized them as being worthy of discussion. After Margaret Thatcher brought the Tories’ isolationist, neoliberal policies to power in 1979, gutter journalism boomed across England, and there were always badly dressed college grads in the ranks twitching to bitch and lie for a quick buck down Fleet Street

Skinhead Girls at the Reunion Brighton England

Women wear Fred Perry at the annual Skinhead Reunion event in Brighton in 2014.

A picture taken by a passer by and sold to a photo library, by a passing member of the public, looking for a quick earner, with no permission or knowledge of the girls personal lives or history

With Reagan’s inauguration signaling a similar shift in the U.S., lazy journalism, and blatant blackening of characters of the lower wealth bracket became the norm, badly dressed press reporters uniform, boomed, to the levels of the padded shoulder suits, found a welcome home stateside when it landed in the early 1980s, according to Heidi Bierich, the director of the Southern Poverty Law Center’s Intelligence Project. “poor, white people ideas already had a toehold in the US, and this culture spread very quickly across the country,” said Bierich. In conservative strongholds like Orange County, California and in parts of northern Florida, angry white youth who were politically unwelcome amongst punk and hardcore’s overwhelming anti-Republicanism became a perfect victim of cheap lazy journalism, these uneducated, low paid mass were never going to make the media have to answer charges of malicious slander, character degredation, or incitement to abuse.

Skinheads in Bogota Colombia wearing Fred Perry
Zoe Beery , fashion expert and journalist

Since the SPLC began tracking these journalists in the late 1990s, bad fashion sense has been a consistent enough presence that it’s one of only two things that really identifies these people. Number two, being their complete lack of factual evidence whilst concocting stories for the gaps between adverts in throwaway magazines clothing brands the SPLC includes in its lower class trash glossary is a fred perry t shirt (the other is Dr. Martens). “What makes youth fashion cultures distinct is music and clothing, not necessarily their ideology,” Bierich said. “They’re very mobile and fluid. You’ll find them in white black and hispanic groups in the USA,

A member of the Proud Boys stands behind Gavin McInnes in a black and yellow Fred Perry polo, at a rally in Berkeley, California.

london Hipster
Proud boy Hawaii

When I emailed McInnes to ask him why he tells his followers to wear the black and yellow polos as they trawl for anti-fascists in downtown hicksville, he warned me that “if you associate us with rich middle class pop stars, Hipsters, British sportsmen or any implication like that I will take you to court” but went on to explain that he wants to align his group with the working-class toughness of the late ’60s hard mods. (A youth culture that never actually existed ) “It plays into the idea of this being a rebellious, edgy movement against the status quo,” said Alice Marwick, an unnamed Fordham University researcher who has extensively studied social media (wasted months reading false facebook profiles) claiming to be far right. “When you say ‘white supremacy’ you think of something with a long history, like the KKK. When you say ‘alt-right’ it sounds like something new and alternative, very similar to alt delete, when you write something completely senseless. In that newness, people feel that they’re part of sticking it to the man, nothing like ending a debate, by pressing the block button, to silence any questions someone may want to ask the journalist.”

Amy Winehouse expression when asked if she was a Proud Boy

A few days later, he released a ten-minute video excoriating media that criticizes the Proud Boys for their uncanny similarities to Amy Winehouse dress sense. I asked him why, if he doesn’t want to be associated with Jewish singers and Hipsters, he tells the Proud Boys to dress like them. He replied, “I’m not going to let the media’s obsession with pop stars dictate what shirt we wear.” The more hated they are, the stronger their identity becomes.

This article has been written with slightly more knowledge than the original printed on new york toilet roll

if you want a laugh read here

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Ivy League Japan 1964

The Miyuki-zoku: Japan’s First Ivy Rebels

The first Japanese to adopt elements of the Ivy League Look were a youth tribe called the Miyuki-zoku, who suddenly appeared in the summer of 1964. The group’s name came from their storefront loitering on Miyuki Street in the upscale Ginza shopping neighborhood (the suffix “zoku” means subculture or social group). The Miyuki-zoku were mostly in their late teens, a mix of guys and girls, likely numbering around 700 at the trend’s peak. Since they were students, they would arrive in Ginza wearing school uniforms and have to change in to their trendy duds in cramped café bathrooms.

And what duds they were. The Miyuki-zoku were devotees of classic American collegiate style. The uniform was button-down oxford cloth shirts, madras plaid, high-water trousers in khaki and white, penny loafers, and three-button suit jackets. Everything was extremely slim. The guys wore their hair in an exact seven-three part, which was new for Japan. They were also famous for carrying around their school uniforms inside of rolled-up brown paper grocery bags.

What lead to the sudden arrival of the Miyuki-zoku? Although Japanese teens had been looking to America since 1945 for style inspiration, these particular youth were not copying Princeton or Columbia students directly. In fact, Japanese kids at this time rarely got a chance to see Americans other than the ever-present US soldiers.

The Miyuki-zoku had found the Ivy look through a new magazine called Heibon Punch. The periodical was targeted to Japan’s growing number of wealthy urban youth, and part of its editorial mission was to tell kids how to dress. The editors advocated the Ivy League Look, which at the time was basically only available in the form of domestic brand VAN. Kensuke Ishizu of VAN had discovered the look in the 1950s and pushed it as an alternative to the slightly thuggish big-shouldered, high-waisted, mismatched jacket-and-pants look that dominated Japanese men’s style throughout the 1950s. As an imported look, Ivy League fashion felt cutting-edge and sophisticated to Tokyo teens, and this fit perfectly with Heibon Punch‘s mission of giving Baby Boomers a style of their own.

When the magazine arrived in the spring 1964, readers all went out and became Ivy adherents. Parents and authorities, however, were hardly thrilled with a youth tribe of American style enthusiasts. The first strike against the Miyuki-zoku is that the guys — gasp! — would blow dry their hair. This was seen as a patently feminine thing to do.

More critically, the Miyuki-zoku picked the wrong summer to hang out in Ginza. Japan was preparing for the 1964 Olympics, which would commence in October. Tokyo was in the process of removing every last eyesore — wooden garbage cans, street trolleys, the homeless — anything that would possibly be offending to foreign visitors. The Olympics was not just a sports event, but would be Japan’s return into the global community after its ignoble defeat of World War II, and nothing could go wrong.

So authorities lay awake at night with the fear that foreigners would come to Japan and see kids in tight high-water pants hanging out in front of prestigious Ginza stores. Neighborhood leaders desperately wanted to eradicate the Miyuki-zoku before October, so they went to Ishizu of VAN and asked him to intervene. VAN organized a “Big Ivy Style Meet-up” at Yamaha Hall, and cops helped put 200 posters across Ginza to make sure the Miyuki-zoku showed up. Anyone who came to the event got a free VAN bag — which was the bag for storing your normal clothing during loitering hours. They expected 300 kids, but 2,000 showed up. Ishizu gave the keynote address, where he told everyone to knock it off with the lounging in Ginza. Most acquiesced, but not all.

So on September 19, 1964, a huge police force stormed Ginza and hauled off 200 kids in madras plaid and penny loafers. Eighty-five were processed at nearby Tsukiji jail. The kids got the message and never came back, and that was the end of the Miyuki-zoku.

Starting in 1945, Japanese authorities generally viewed all Western youth fashion as a delinquent subculture. Despite looking relatively conservative in style compared to the other biker gangs and greasy-haired rebels, the Miyuki-zoku were still caught up in this delinquent narrative. In fact, they were actually the first middle-class youth consumers buying things under the direction of the mainstream media. It was Japanese society that was simply not ready for the idea that youth fashion could be part of the marketplace.

After the Miyuki-zoku, however, Ivy became the de facto look for fashionable Japanese men, and the “Ivy Tribe” that followed faced little of the harassment seen by its predecessor. The Miyuki-zoku may have lost the battle of Ginza, but they won the war for Ivy League style. — W. DAVID MARX

As the Ivy League style swept across the globe. The British Modernist ‘Mods’ subculture adopted the clothing, modifying it into a very British subculture, with a new more aggressive edge. The Skinheads

Bracknell Skinheads 1970

W. David Marx is a writer living in Tokyo whose work has appeared in GQ, Brutus, Nylon, and Best Music Writing 2009, among other publications. He is currently Tokyo City Editor of CNNGo and Chief Editor of web journal Néojaponisme.

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Scam Music Agents Exposed by BBC

Musicians hit by ‘management scam’

By Guy Lynn and George GreenwoodBBC News

  • 29 March 2018
    • More information added by subcultz
Media captionArtists say management company BMU has disappeared with their money.

A music company “scam” has left artists thousands of pounds out of pocket, with one singer saying she now faces being made homeless because of her losses.

In an apparent fraud, management firm Band Management Universal (BMU) charged up to £4,000 for services and continued to sign clients despite having numerous complaints about not meeting promises.

Head of the Musicians’ Union Horace Trubridge called it the worst scam he had seen in the past 20 years.

BMU could not be reached for comment.

The company, registered in Farringdon, London, has shut its website and email accounts and cancelled its phones.

‘Hate campaign’

Singer Sarah Kaloczi said she paid £2,000 to BMU for a contract that was supposed to include music production, marketing, gigs and tours, as well as help to secure a recording contract.

The company failed to deliver these services or refund her money and she now faces being evicted from her flat.

“They took everything I had put my heart and soul into and just shattered it into pieces,” she said.

Sarah
Image captionMs Kaloczi said she was harassed by BMU for speaking out

She claims she suffered a “hate campaign” after she spoke out.

She received abusive messages attacking her looks and mental health, and received a number of targeted negative reviews after complaining about the company online.

Ms Kaloczi has been signed off work for 18 months with anxiety, depression and panic attacks, lost her job and could not bring herself to perform for a year afterwards.

“At 27, I don’t want to have to keep falling on my dad. I just want to make him proud, look after him for a change,” she said.

Jasper
Image captionJapser Roelofsen and Counting Wolves lost £3,840

The BBC spoke to more than 20 artists telling a similar story, but the true number affected could be much higher.

Some said they got limited services from BMU, such as photography or studio sessions, while others received nothing.

Over time the company became harder and harder for artists to reach. BMU also failed to pay some contractors.

Artists said the apparent head of BMU, known to them as Matthias, would spend hours on the phone talking to them about his plans for their careers, but they never met him in person and suspected he used a false name.

They said they did meet some BMU representatives, but claimed the people seemed to have been hired in for the meetings.

‘Burned’ money

Dutch singer Jasper Roelofsen said Matthias pressured him to pay, bombarding him and his band at the time, Counting Wolves, with messages promising them the chance to work with well-known artists.

Mr Roelofsen said Matthias told him “the quicker you get the money to me, the quicker we can get started”.

The band never received the promised services and lost £3,840.

“We could have used that money to do something useful for our careers, but instead we burned it.”

Horace
Image captionHorace Trubridge described BMU as a scam

Mr Trubridge described BMU as the worst example of music fraud he had seen in the past 20 years.

“Oh, it is a scam, definitely. There’s no doubt about it,” he said.

“As soon as we hear that an artist has been asked to put their hand in their own pocket by a management company, big alarm bells start to ring.”

He said paying management companies for services was widely seen as unethical in the industry, though was not uncommon.

Bought to our attention in around 2015 is Inspired Artists Agency Touring

Another ‘Agent’ very active in the Brighton area is run by a guy called Ben Hylands, called Inspired artists, using exactly the same tactics as BMU. Often preying on BIMM student bands, and foreign acts wishing to tour the UK. A representative will show up at a gig and tell the young band how they have potential, and arrange a meeting in a cafe with the ‘Agent’. And for a staggered fee in excess of £2000 he will launch a PR campaign, which turns out to consist of a few blog websites and internet radio stations. The website will be shown to the new act, showing a few established artists, which are funded by the scam money, to unaware artists. A tour of UK venues, which if the band does get a booking, it will be a non paying show, or door split, sometimes at the other end of the country, with bands paying the same scam agent, to an empty room. For this you will pay Ben Hylands another £25 plus your own travel and all other out of pocket expenses. The more the band pays, the higher their headline status. None of the young bands will appear on the website, until their ‘profiles’ are built, so these bands have no reference to the other bands , to ask about experiences

The sales pitch used, is that after the £2000+ is paid the band will get to play The Great Escape Festival in Brighton, which in fact is the ‘Alternative Escape‘ a local bar hired from the Great Escape Festival designed for independant promoters and companies to showcase their acts, which is sold to anyone with £500 spare. These scam agents, will do just about very minimum to uphold the contract, staying just within the law, consisting of a mail out to venues, magazines and blogs. The non paid tour, The festival. showcasing 16 bands in a day. £32000!!! Not a bad days work

when one young band was cancelled on route to a venue in Tunbridge Wells we looked into it. The band were told they were off the bill because their music did not fit with the Inspired Artists headline act, which was a boy band paying several £1000’s by a wealthy banker father. The following night was to be the Nottingham Rock City, the young band noticing they weren’t on any posters or event information from the venue, when we called them, no such booking had taken place. We contacted Tunbridge Wells venue The Forum, who told us Inspired artists had bombarded them with offers of free, non paid bands to be added to any event as opening acts, after our discussion they told us they would no longer be dealing with this agent.

When we approached Ben Hylands on he phone he became aggressive and using the words ‘You dont know who i am’,then blaming his work placement unpaid student staff, refused to meet or refund the young band. We then contacted the MU who told us that unless the young acts are members of the union, there was nothing they would do, other than take note of this agent.

Its about time the law is extended for the minimum wage to apply to musicians and the entertainment industry overall. Lottery and Government arts funding into grass roots music, protection and licencing on live venues, which over the years attrtacts £billions into the UK economy.

If you have more information about this or other stories you would like BBC London to investigate, you can email in confidence: investigationsbbclondon@bbc.co.uk

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Skinhead History

Modernism started emerging in London in the 1950’s

Skinhead culture emerged as a result of two shifts in British culture and
society in the early/mid 1960s. Firstly, the Mod scene which had been so popular amongst British youth had begun to split into different factions. While the middle class Mods were able to carry on pursuing the latest Carnaby Street clothes and fashionable haircuts, this was out of reach to most working classMods. In a scene so heavily based on consumerism, this undermined the workingclass Mods’ status and ability to take part in the scene. This led to the emergence of “hard Mods”, who marked themselves off from their peers with shaved hair,  jeans, braces  and work boots. This style, based on the typical style of British workingmen at the time, served to separate them from the old Mods and the middle class hippies of their generation. It served as “a conscious attempt by working class youth to dramatist and resolve their marginal
status in a class-based society.”

Skinheads dancing to Jamaican Ska Music

Within mod culture you can carve it down the middle. On one side you have ‘Peacock Mods’ who have the sharper, middle class, jazz influenced aesthetic and on the other side you have ‘hard mods’ who prefer soul music, are working class and enjoy Jamaican rudeboy culture.

That might sound like an odd combination but with the children of the windrush from the 1950s integrating into  British white working class society, all living and going to school together, it was inevitable that each culture would influence the other.

The 3 elements that the vast majority of 1960s skinheads indulged in were:-

  • Clothing
  • Reggae
  • ska and soul Music
  • Football

The most (in)famous part of skinhead clothing is, of course, a pair of doc martens. They were what defined you from the mods or hippies with their delicate loafers or sandals. The doc martens were a sign of being working class and proud of it. Levi jeans or sta-prest trousers were popular having half-inch turn ups to show off their boots. Ben Sherman and fred perry button-down shirts offered clean, tidy looks with colourful checks to show off on the dancefloor on a night out. Crombie and sheepskin coats were the default coats.

The Great skinhead Reunion Brighton, is held every June

They offered a little bit of style in comparison to the heavily polished boots. Skinheads also wore half-inch braces to display their working class credentials.

Like, with mod fashion, there was snobbery about where your clothes were from. The rarer the shirt, boots or jeans the more style conscious you were seen to be.  skinhead Girls (Sorts Renees) In the modern day, called ‘Skinbyrds’ wore clothing along the same lines. Short skirts, feather cut hair styles and loafers or brogues fishnet stockings, were the usual get-up.

Black music in the 1960s was still mainly American soul. so Reggae and ska was onlyheard if you had west Indians mates. The off beat rhythm, exotic sound and strange composition made it an attractive rebel music for skinheads to adopt.

Songs like max romeo’s ‘wet dream’ were risqué and appealed to the skinheads sense of danger. Reggae became so synonymous with skinhead culture that many reggae hits have been about skinheads. ‘skinhead a bash them’ was one of those released by Claudette and the corporation on the Trojan records label. Another favourite was ‘skinhead moonstomp’ by symarip, which for many encapsulates the skinhead reggae sound.

Other skinhead favourites were the upsetters, prince buster, desmond dekker, toots and the maytals, derrick morgan and john holt.

Reggae was the sound being created in the Studios of Orange Street in Jamaica, as the early Immigrants came to Britain they brought with them many things that were to change British society forever, for good and bad. The British music industry was at its height, feeding the forever demanding record buying youth. The Mersey sound of the Beetles, The swinging 60’s.

Labels were set up to market this brand new sound to the British working class and beyond. labels like Trojan, Island, Blue Beat and many more marketted the music to a demanding new audience. The sound of the Council estates and dance halls became alive with Calypso and Reggae.

When skinheads weren’t skanking in dancehalls to reggae or showing off their latest Ben Sherman shirt they were at the football ground looking for a fight. There is a strong connection of London football teams with skinhead culture. West ham are the most prolific in that link. Chelsea and other big London clubs had groups of skinheads roaming the stands looking for some ‘aggro’.

Usually their boots and short hair would be great assets in maximising damage upon another and minimising their own beating by having little hair to possibly grab onto. Some say that football hooliganism stems from those first skinheads joining their local teams firms and looking for violence. Of course, most of this wouldn’t have happened without copious amounts of booze.

After 1970, reggae hit the uk pop charts and skinhead culture spread around the country in different shapes and forms.

Some skinheads grew their hair a little longer and wore smarter clothing and abandoned wearing boots for loafers. These skinheads were dubbed suedeheads, smoothies, boot boys and soul boys. Skinheads had even reached Australia as british parents migrated to greener pastures down under.

These skinheads evolved through the 1970s as sharpies and enjoyed rock music with slade being one of their favourite bands.
With the spirit of ’69 in the past skinhead culture dwindled and it was another 10 years for it to be revived by a new wave of ska bands and awareness of race.

2-tone and politics

After 10 years of dormancy a handful of bands exploded into the charts with the ska beat that skinheads had fallen in love with so much. The first 6 singles from 2-tone records featured the specials, madness, the selector and the beat. If any of those records were played at a party now kids would immediately know them and sing along. The skinhead and mod movements had been given a new lease of life.

This 2nd wave of ska was to not only be about music and having a good time but also take on a political aspect.

Since 1969 skinhead culture had evolved in many ways:-

  • Clothing
  • 2-tone Ska and oi!
  • politics and race
  • violence and hooliganism

Skinhead clothing had merged with mod fashions to an extent in 1979. skinheads would wear fred perry polos, Lonsdale t-shirts, band t-shirts and brogues had replaced heavy boots. Just as mod influences had permeated so did punk clothing. Ma-1 flight jackets, bleached jeans and even shorter haircuts were common amongst some skinheads.

There were still traditional skinheads who wore the original styles and sometimes with a shaved parting in their hair. With the skinhead look becoming less regimented if you wanted to be a skinhead it was fairly easy to look like one.

But with 3 different looks to choose from it also meant there were different types of music you’d be interested in. If you wore flight jackets and bleeched jeans then you’d usually prefer oi!

If you wore  fred perry polos and loafers then you’d like 2-tone and the jam. If you wore the traditional styles then you’d enjoy the 60s reggae and ska of original  skinheads.

2-tone and oi! were poles apart even though they were both described as being skinhead music. 2-tone’s black and white check (even though unintentional) became a symbol of britain’s racial harmony, which was sung about in some of the labels releases.

Oi! on the other hand was angry, anti-establishment and predominantly listened to by white kids. Even though 2-tone took elements from punk it was a much tamer, watered down influence. There was crossover, as there is with many music genres, but only madness came close to combining the 2 successfully.

Oi! bands that emerged as skinhead favourites were the 4-skins, cockney rejects, the business and combat 84. these bands played a part in the eventual creation of hardcore punk, which skinheads adopted as another branch to the ever growing  skinhead family tree. However, A potent mix of race awareness and right-wing politics would soon change skinhead culture and make skinhead a byword for racist.

Throughout the 1980s skinheads became polarized over politics (an issue that was never an aspect of 60s skinhead culture). Skinheads were seen more and more often at right-wing marches and rallies, as mass immigration took a hold of the UK, the rise in unemployment and Britains fall from power, caused a nationalistic reaction amongst Britains working class society.

The media began to portray all. Skinheads as Fascist, Racist and Violent. This was the image that the media exported across the globe, which in turn picked up more negative press, and was actually used as e recruitment advert for white supremist groups mainly in the USA. Hollywood jumped on the band wagon making movies about the devils with cropped hair

At the same time other skinheads were reacting to this by starting up groups such as ‘skinheads against racial prejudice’ or ‘sharp’ for short. Skinheads also began left-wing groups who labelled right-wing skinheads as ‘boneheads’ because they thought they were unintelligent.

Oi music arrived in the early 80’s as a hard edged street punk. reacting against the middle class fashion of Kings Road Punk Rock. the bands making political statements about unemployment, police oppression, the plight of the working class. The violent firms across the Uk had found a musical voice, and violence was widespread. A riot happened in a predominantly asian area called Southall in West London, which hit he headlines.

Maggie Thatcher asked for a blanket ban on the Skinhead culture, which took all music from the record shop shelves, all radio play, media coverage. This caused many bands to fold up, even effecting the 2tone bands which main message was racial harmony. no venues could accept them. But the skinhead culture refused to die, it went underground. Collecting an even harder edge.

The extreme right wing taking control in London

This period of skinhead culture was a time when some became disillusioned and uneasy with what being a skinhead meant. As a result skinhead culture seemed dead to many people, who weren’t interested in the extremes of violence or politics.

The tit for tat violence on the streets of London, the clamping down by the authorities and blacklisting was to almost destroy the skinhead culture forever.

If anyone would like to add to the Skinhead history section, please contact us at Subcultz. we Know there are many variations of the culture right across the globe.