One of the biggest things I forgot about, from my days of being a little punk rocker was the constant showering of criticism, the threats, and name calling from people who hated punk. I remember a kid in my 9th-grade science class that, whenever he saw me, would say “Punk is bunk, let’s get drunk.” He’d laugh every time. Then there were the people who’d throw full Coke cans out of their cars as they drove by.
My love of punk rock was, pretty much, under the radar until I cut my hair in 9th-grade. Then I opened the gates for every dimwitted hump to voice their opinion on a musical genre that was still being created.
One afternoon when I was walking out of the P.E. yard, after lunch, some girl, who I had never seen before, decides to chase me down and explain to me what she felt punk rock meant. “It’s when you’re in jail, and one man decides to lie on top of another man . . .” I suggested she shut-up, and I booked on out of there. She was one of the many school security guard groupies that would annoy me over the years. You probably had a few of these chicks yourself; they would sit on the guards laps, and spew out all these creepy innuendos.
Anyway, the longer I was into punk; it got to the point where I wouldn’t get along with, about, a quarter of the punks in my school. I didn’t go to enough shows, my leather jacket wasn’t painted “Oi enough,” that kind of crap. Back when I was putting the Los Angeles Punk Con together, I’d get weird emails from people complaining about whom I was inviting or complaining that it seems like it’s going to be “too commercial.” Well, here’s the best email I’ve received:
“I am quite surprised that you haven’t included Rikk Agnew in your important people of American Punk Rock. Rikk was just the first punk musician to have a solo album (just ask Lisa of Frontier). Hell, you will probably ask Rikk’s former bands to play but not Rikk. I think it’s a travesty. Just my 2 cents.
Thanks for your time.
Like Shakespeare once said, “Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one.”