“Heterosexuals Have the Right to Rock!”
One band’s journey to play a show with the Mentors

It all started on the computer a few months back. Some kid from Connecticut got in touch with my band Chesty Malone and the Slice ’em Ups to ask us to play a show with the legends of sleaze rock, The Mentors. I hadn’t heard of The Mentors for years and since their singer/drummer El Duce is long dead I didn’t see how it could be possible. But lo and behold they had recruited a new singer and a new drummer named Mad Dog Marc Duce and Moosedick respectively and are indeed keeping the dream alive.

Of course we said yes. Did we really have a choice? This was the band that penned such feel-good classics as “Golden Shower,” “Suck For Rent,” “Woman From Sodom,” and of course the immortal “Heterosexuals Have the Right to Rock.” This would boost our stock in the obscure/unknown punk rock world for sure. Hell yeah we were in.

Then a scant two weeks before the show we got the call from the kid in Connecticut. The people who run the venue where the show was supposed to happen had figured out who The Mentors were, and they were not down, and thus had cancelled the show.

“That sucks but can’t you just find another venue?” I asked.

“No, it’s too short of notice for a venue change,” was his shortsighted reply.

Not being one to settle for such mediocrity, I immediately got in touch with The Mentors myself and re-booked the show down here in New York City. I then set about getting some local NYC bands to play the show with us. Apparently I’m not the only one who can’t get enough of The Mentors’ timeless anthems because I had no problem getting The Blame and The Blackout Shoppers to join us in opening up for the rape rock kings.

We spent the next week and a half promoting our asses off. Of course there were hurdles along the way (like finding out that The Mentors didn’t have any equipment beyond their guitars two days before the show) but we were steadfast in our determination, and finally the night of the show was upon us!

We got there early and got set up. Then we waited for the Mentors’ arrival. And we waited. And waited some more. We were some waiting motherfuckers. Normally I don’t drink before a show but I was taking full advantage of my unlimited free beers as the promoter of the event that night. Let’s just say I had some nerves that needed calming.

The Mentors still had not arrived when The Blame took the stage. I tried to enjoy myself in a nonchalant kind of way, but inside I couldn’t stop thinking about how the door guy’s and the soundman’s pay was going to come out of my pocket after I refunded everyone’s money when The Mentors didn’t show. But The Blame were pretty great in their usual old school UK punk rock style. Raised on the streets of New York indeed. They also did a pretty cool Dwarves cover.

Next up were The Blackout Shoppers. Still no Mentors, but once again I valiantly attempted to get into it and pretended to be as carefree as a virgin at a eunuch festival. Shoppers were definitely kicking ass when I walked outside for a quick breath of stale air.

Suddenly a yellow cab pulled up in front of the club and four rather degenerate-looking older dudes staggered out of it. A couple of them were grunting in a distinctly Neanderthal sort of way and the other two were vacantly staring in our general direction. They were not wearing their trademark executioner hoods, but there was no doubt that The Mentors had at last arrived!

I went back inside to catch the rest of the Shoppers’ set and was pleasantly surprised to catch a perfectly timed Misfits cover. Fun was had by all. I then retired to the men’s room for some much needed relief and what I saw in there made me both laugh and wonder what the heck is wrong with some people.

Now I ain’t no stool pigeon and I ain’t naming names either, but when I entered the men’s room there was a collection of older type dudes blatantly and openly snorting some not-so-legal substances right there at the sink. They didn’t even bother hiding out in one of the stalls. I dutifully informed them that what they were doing was illegal and if convicted they’d be facing some time. Then I walked over to an empty urinal and took care of business and left.

Next up was my band, Chesty Malone and the Slice ’em Ups. Obviously we were something akin to the second coming, winning the lottery, losing your virginity, the end of the world, etc, etc. Of course I may be just a tad biased so you should probably ask someone else for an honest opinion about that.

Then the moment the two maniacs who’d been there since we opened the doors, who were wearing their own executioners’ hoods had been waiting for — Pope Heathen Scum, Sicky Wifebeater, Moosedick, and Mad Dog Duce (tell me those aren’t some of the best punk names ever), AKA The Mentors, took the stage!

They were fucking hilarious and their tunes were actually pretty catchy too. Heathen Scum, who off stage was a rather articulate and friendly man (whose brother and young nieces were also in attendance), supplied most of the offensive/hysterical between-song banter. After my band finished up, he approached our female singer and very politely told her, “I really enjoyed your band. You have a wonderful voice.” Then right before they played “Golden Shower” he announced in a gravely wrestler-style voice, “See that chick from Chesty Malone with the nice white blonde hair? She’s actually a redhead until I peed on her!” When they were done with their set he immediately profusely apologized to her, explaining how it was all just a joke. Talk about a dichotomy.

This was all on a lowly Tuesday night. Who Says New York’s Dead? Obviously they weren’t at the Fortune Cookie that Tuesday night. Fuck ’em, they were probably out in some ironic bar in Williamsburg ironically drinking cans of PBR talking about how great their friends’ Cajun/Gypsy/punk/electro/douchebag band is.


Your friend,
Anthony Allen Van Hoek

I wish I were friends with Doyle

I wish I were friends with Doyle.

Not necessarily because I want to hang out at the mall and get a slice of pizza with him and crank some old Van Halen tapes in the pickup truck on the way home (though that would of course be awesome). No I wish I were friends with Doyle because I wish I could tell him, “Doyle old pal, when I heard you were going to be forming your own band I was excited! However, when the Gorgeous Frankenstein record finally came out I was a bit disappointed. But it’s not too late, we can fix this, I swear!”

For those of you who don’t know, Doyle has become quite a good guitar player over the years. Maybe he can’t rip a Satriani style arpeggiated solo but who cares about that shit anyway? His strength lies in his ability to absolutely pummel the living crap outta that bat shaped guitar thing of his. Doyle on guitar is a fantastic foundation for putting together a great band. So what went wrong with Gorgeous Frankenstein?

Let’s start with the Record (or CD, or download, depending on your preference). OK, guitars sound great, but, is that a drum machine instead of a real live person on drums? And oh God that third rate Danzig impersonator of a singer is horrendous! Dare I even mention the lyrics? I’ll spare you. Well Ok here’s a snippet from one tune: “Fake tits and a feline stare—YEAH!” Yeah, really.

Then just to throw an even bigger monkey wrench into the works, they go on tour with a different singer. They get a guy who also plays bass and he sings with one of those Janet Jackson/Sammy Hagar headphone mic contraptions. They did get an actual drummer but he and the singer/bass player are also in some other semi popular band, so what the heck? Is this a real band even?

Since that first tour the drummer left and they replaced him with Dr. Chud (from the fake Misfits of the 1990’s). A step in the right direction for sure. There were rumors that Michale Graves (also formerly of the fake Misfits) would take over singing duties. Again, sounds like a good idea to me, keep the JJ/Hagar guy on bass and get a separate singer (think of the classic Misfits format of two giant guys on guitar and bass with a smaller guy singing). But no that never happened and the singer/bass player thing stuck. When I saw them live recently I noticed that he thankfully ditched the headphone mic but that leads me to another big problem.

In most bands the singer is the focal point. If you don’t believe me allow me to point out some examples: Bad Brains, Black Flag (with Henry), Stooges, fuck, even Led Zeppelin. But in this band it’s the guitar player (who doesn’t speak or sing back-ups or anything) and his wife who does sort of a stripper routine throughout the set, complete with pole (she also does not speak or sing but mouths along to the words of the songs). It’s just weird. Plus the songs themselves—they only did, I think, two songs from the record and one new original. The rest of the set was fake Misfits tunes and a couple of classic rock covers at the end. Huh? So it’s a fake Misfits cover band now? I’m sure Doyle and/or Chud probably wrote most of those songs but still, I thought this was supposed to be a new band.

Here’s what needs to be done: Stay off the road until you write and record a new full length album of good strong songs. Get a separate bass player and singer! Put the wife kind of towards the back of the stage by the drummer so she’s there if people want to check her out but she’s not too distracting otherwise. And please, no more ‘80’s style wireless headphone microphones! I was hoping it would go without saying, but I feel like I should say it anyway: Get someone who can write some good lyrics!

I love you man, and if I ever do run into you at a mall somewhere the slices are on me!

The Top Five Albums of all Time!

Hey kids, today I’m going to tell you about the all time top five greatest albums ever released. This is not up for debate, as it has been scientifically proven beyond any reasonable doubt that these five albums (records, CD’s, downloads—whichever you prefer) are in fact the best ones that have been released thus far in recorded history. Your opinions may differ-this is America after all-but you’re wrong. So without any further ado, here we go!

1. “Self Titled” by the Stooges – I know, surely there’re some of you saying, “Ahemm, “Funhouse”? But you know what? The Stooges’ debut is unbeatable in terms of ridiculously catchy, but still heavy and raw tuneage. Check it:
No fun my babe no fun
No fun my babe no fun
No fun to hang around
Feeling that same old way
No fun to hang around
Freaked out for another day
No fun my babe no fun
No fun my babe no fun
No fun to be around
Walking by myself
No fun to be alone
In love with nobody else
Well maybe go out maybe stay home
maybe call Mom on the telephone
Well come on, well come on,
well come on..........
Ok, “We Will Fall” is a bit on the hippie dippy Doors wannabe side but we all make mistakes right? Freaked out indeed.

2. “Walk Among Us” by the Misfits – Holy crap what an album! Not one weak moment to speak of. Let’s start with the album cover and insert: Goddamn, how fucking cool are these guys? They really walk around in public looking like that? What are you going to do about it if you don’t like it? Now onto the songs—every single one of them gets in, does their job and gets the fuck out. I don’t know, maybe this one should be the all time number one (but I ain’t about to admit I was wrong so I’ll go ahead and leave the Stooges). Plus, back in the day when there weren’t that many ladies who were into this punk rock shit the gals always liked the Misfits--and Black Flag for some reason, that is until “Slip it in” came out anyway.

3. “Exile on Main Street” by the Rolling Stones – Not too many albums actually sound like the precise place, time and atmosphere they were recorded in, but this one most certainly does. Look at the pictures inside. You know the one where Mick and Keith are probably doing back ups and holding a bottle of booze and a can of beer? That’s what the record sounds like to me. It sounds like living in tax exile in France and massive debauchery with a slight dose of violence thrown in for good measure. Yes it does. Not to mention the fact that “Torn & Frayed” is probably up there in the top five SONGS ever written.

4. “Rock For Light” by the Bad Brains – A lot of people will probably try and tell you that the ROIR cassette (or most likely CD these days) is their best, but again, they’re wrong. The production is just too muddy. Look, I’m a lo-fi kind of guy but that one just really loses too much of the impact because of the primitive recording. Obviously it should go without saying that the songs are still great but they sound so much better on the Ric Ocasek produced RFL record. And the reggae on the ROIR album is really pretty bad, whereas on RFL they’re up there with any Scratch Perry record (in my humble opinion). If there were any justice in the world these guys would be as rich as Bon Jovi. But of course there is not.

5. “Self Titled” by the Clash – Now, in all honesty this same spot could just as easily be filled by the Ramones’ first LP, the NY Dolls’ first one, or maybe even the Sex Pistols’ debut, but I’m picking this one because this is the very first punk rock record I ever bought. It was the summer after 7th grade and I was looking for something new. I didn’t want to copy my brother and snag the Pistols record so I actually asked him for advice as to what I should get if I wanted to check out some punk other than the Pistols or the Ramones. For some reason (even though he didn’t even like them) he told me I should check out the Clash. That record blew my mind. It came with a bonus 7” of “Gates of the West” and “Groovy Times” and the whole thing was just unbelievably good. How are you going to have a bonus 7” in 2008?

So there you have it kids. If you’re missing any one of these gems go and get ‘em right now! Preferably if you have a record store nearby go and grab ‘em there but if not I officially give you my OK on downloading them. I would also like to add that if Hank Williams had ever made an actual album (as we define them to be) he most definitely would be here--though I'm not even going to try and figure out which of my other choices would go! But I mean, c'mon, Lovesick Blues, Ramblin' Man, I'm so Lonesome I could Cry? Some of the best American songs EVER written.

Why Hardcore is the Greatest Music of all Time!

First of all allow me to explain that when I say Hardcore I'm not talking about tough guy-beat down-Biohazard-sounding wannabe metal crap, nor am I talking about eyeliner and tight pants wearing-arm hugging whiney emo crap. If you like either of those types of music right on, I have no problem with that, but that ain't what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about bands like Bad Brains, Minor Threat, Negative Approach, SSD, Void, Black Flag, Necros--you know, the real stuff!

Never before or since has there been a more organic and real "music scene". OK maybe when field workers were singing songs out in the fields before there were records (or illegal downloading), that was pretty real too. But the original hardcore scene was entirely a grassroots, word of mouth kind of thing. You heard about bands from your friends, older siblings or xeroxed fanzines. MTV didn't exist and even when it finally did there certainly weren't any Meatmen or Circle Jerks videos being played (or being made for that matter). If you were lucky enough to have one in your hometown (or if you lived in a city) you could also go down to your local independent record store and check out the latest stuff. I bought plenty of albums and 7 inches based soley on the fact that they had cool looking covers.

The internet was still years away. There were no tour announcements in Rolling Stone magazine. No one else at your high school had heard of the shit you were into, and a lot of them wanted to beat you up for it even. You had to work for this stuff. Not to sound like your great grandpa telling you how many miles he had to walk to school through snow and rain without shoes, but it wasn't easy being hardcore back then. If I had a nickel for every time some asshole yelled "Rock Lobster" or "Whip It" at me from a passing car or pickup truck I could definitely go buy a fresh case of Budweiser right now.

This was music truly by and for the people. It was completely ignored by mainstream culture and corporations except when they wanted to ridicule it/us or make fun of it. Anyone remember the "punk" episodes of Quincy and Chips? How about the movie "Class of 1984"? They always got it wrong when they tried. Always.

There were no interested record labels so people put out their own records. Eventually there were a couple hardcore labels but even those were mostly just people from the scene putting out records they liked in relatively small pressings. Plenty of classic HC 7"ers now go for one or two hundred bucks or more. Ever see someone pay 150 bucks for a Michael Jackson record? I haven't.

One thing that hardcore never seems to get credit for is great songs. As far as I'm concerned, the true test of a great song is whether or not you can sing and play it on acoustic guitar and it still sounds like a great song. You can do that with Black Flag songs, you can do it with Misfits songs, you can even do it with Negative Approach tunes. Try doing that with a Britney Spears or a Rihanna song. You can't. They need the studio gloss.

I'm not saying other forms and styles of music aren't good (I'm as open minded as the next guy after all), I'm just saying that to me this is the real thing, like no other. It's the ultimate form of rock music--stripped of all fakery and bullshit star trips and played with utmost intensity. Playing music for the sake of playing music, not to get rich or be on the cover of some slick magazine. This kind of thing doesn't exist anymore. It's like the blues almost.

Iggy Does Madonna!

Ok, everyone knows that the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame is completely lame and almost totally un-rock n' roll. At least I hope you all do. However, once in a while there are some cool moments in their annual induction ceremony. For instance, I thought Dee Dee Ramone's acceptance speech was pretty awesome--"Hi I'm Dee Dee Ramone and I'd like to congratulate myself and thank myself and give myself a big pat on the back. Thank you Dee Dee you're very wonderful I love you." I also liked it when the Clash got in, and when the Sex Pistols sent a hand written note saying they weren't coming, that was pretty cool too.

I just watched this year's thing where the Stooges played a couple Madonna tunes after her induction. Wow. Burning Up was actually pretty good and strangely enough kind of sounded like a Stooges song. Ray of Light, hmm, not so much, but the Ig reciting a few lines from Like a Virgin afterwards was damn funny. Seeing Madonna shaking hands with the Stooges backstage was also pretty funny ("Hi Ron, hi Scott."). And Iggy singing while sitting in Justin Timberlake's lap, oh man.

Now, do I even need to explain to you how lame Justin Timberlake is? If so then you probably shouldn't even be reading this. Like I said, the whole thing is lame. But I'm going to go ahead and assume it was Madonna's idea to have the Stooges there and give her kudos. I mean, I'm sure the Hall people would've much rather had Madonna herself or like Christina Aguilera or Avril Levigne sing some Madonna tunes you know? When I heard that she was getting inducted I'd been thinking, I actually like Madonna but she's NOT rock n' roll, then she gets possibly THE most rock n' roll band EVER to do her tunes! Plus I like the whole Michigan connection thing--"Now I'd like to introduce another asskicker from Michigan!" That was pretty rock n' roll.

What a boring collection of inductees in general though. John Cougar? Leonard Cohen--even if you like him, which I don't, how is that even kind of rock n' roll? And Lou Reed (though I love him) looked like he was going to keel over during his Leonard Cohen induction speech. Kind of depressing to watch actually, I mean his hands were shaking and he's wearing a leather (or possibly pleathur) leisure suit.

But yeah, Iggy did Madonna!

Why and How did Rock n’ Roll Ruin my Life?

Due to the title of this illustrious blog I have received many enquiries as to why I called it that. So I will now attempt to explain. When I was a kid I believed that Gene Simmons was part demon. I thought that Jim Morrison had mystical qualities. I also believed that you could live your life by Rolling Stones lyrics. Well, at least I knew that Venom was mostly kidding.

I loved Kiss (and I have a photograph of myself by the X-mas tree, clutching Kiss’ “Alive II” on vinyl, of course, from when I was about 9 years old to prove it) but I’m pretty sure I didn’t exactly know what partying every day meant--though I am sure I understood the sentiment. At an extremely early age I knew I wanted to do my own thing and not be brought down by the man. When I was twelve years old one of my parents’ friends accused me of being a hedonist. This happened within days of my finishing reading “No One Here Gets Out Alive” (the biography of James Douglas Morrison, if you didn’t know) when I was in 7th grade. My father was right there and he did not disagree.

Therefore it is not too far fetched for me to tell you that I never conjured up a realistic vision of how to live my life according to any of the supposed reasonable expectations of so-called mainstream society. I remember being about 13 years old and listening to Exene from X singing “No one is united and all things are untied” and thinking, Yes, that is true. And When I heard the song from Black Flag telling me that, “Swimming in the mainstream is such a lame, lame dream” I was all, “Fuck yeah Henry, I could not agree more!”.

So you see, I never stood a chance and that’s why I can tell you that rock n’ roll ruined my life. I mean c’mon, I was about ten or eleven years old when my mom and dad first brought me to CBGB down on the Bowery here in New York City (if you go down there now CB’s is long gone and the whole area is VERY family friendly, but back then it was a different story). I couldn’t tell you the band’s name that was playing that night but I do remember that there were still movie theater seats in there and that the band I saw had a singer with a ginger afro and a skinny new wave tie over a blood red shirt under a black suit jacket.

It’s like I was born into this. Maybe If I had a choice I could have said, “I’ll take a mom and dad that are stock brokers and/or doctors, or possibly lawyers and yeah, I’ll have a profession for myself that’s going to get me rich too.” But you know what? Here I am on Staten Island, still playing guitar and punk rockin’ my way through life against my better judgment. A life ruined by rock n' roll.

Career Killing Albums

You don't seem to see it so much these days but I remember a time when bands would inexplicably release albums so far away from their original formulas and out of left field that it would alienate most of their fan base and sometimes even kill their whole careers. Bad Religion had "Into the Uknown", SSD had "How We rock", Black Flag slowed everything down, cleaned up, then slowed down even more on sides one and two of "My War". The career killingest album of all time? Has to be "Grave New World" by Discharge.

Just in case you don't know, Discharge made their name with short, straight to the point, political blasts of punk/metal fury. Simply by reading the titles of their tunes you already knew how the songs were going to go. Here are some examples: "Protest and Survive", "Free Speech for the Dumb", "State Violence/State Control" and "Drunk with Power". Now grunt or yell them at the top of your lungs like your angry neighbor screaming at his wife and that's pretty much how the song goes. So I have to wonder, was it boredom or insanity that made them come out with 1986's "Grave New World"? We don't know.

Featuring guitar riffs lifted directly from Dio era Black Sabbath and/or Led Zeppelin and screeching vocals so high even King Diamond was envious, this album had people showing up to gigs just so they could toss bags of rotten garbage at the band. Seriously, people were that pissed. Discharge's new look didn't help matters either. Singer Cal was now "Kelvin" and instead of the usual two foot high liberty spikes he now sported a long straight "That Girl" flip along with a stylish brown leather jacket (everyone knows punks ONLY wear black leather!).

To me that album is a work of pure genius. First of all I genuinely love the songs. I mean, like I said they were all stolen from other bands but man did they rock! And second, you really can't get much more punk than to completely piss off and outrage almost the entire punk rock community now can you? In my whole life I've known exactly three people that liked this record.

One time when I was a teenager a metalhead friend of mine asked me to play him some Discharge because he'd seen pictures of Metallica wearing their T-shirts. I could've done the right thing and played him "The Nightmare Continues" (insert grunts here) or something along those obvious lines but instead I deviously put on "GNW". You should've seen the look on his face as he asked me if I was sure this was the same Discharge and if so why did Metallica like them so much. HAHAHAHAHA

In retrospect SSD's "How We Rock" was really not that different from their previous record "Get It Away" which was loved by most of hardcore/punk rock society. Sure they added guitar solos (which are mostly out of key by the way) and they changed their lyrical content (gone were anti smoking and drinking diatribes, in were odes to rocking and road trips) but the essential heaviness and even the trademark polka on methamphetamines hardcore drumbeat are prominently featured throughout. I mean slap some Pushead artwork on the cover instead of the bad airbrush carnival style crap they went with and most people probably wouldn't have noticed the difference. Black Flag were still loud and fucked up sounding, the tempo just wasn't as high and the production got slicker. Even Bad Religion's foray into '70's style folk prog rock still had their familiar melodies and harmonies that everyone seems to love. But with "Grave New World" the whole thing was like a giant middle finger pointed straight at you and everything you thought you believed in. That's punk rock to the hilt.