“It was a time of a shifting cultural landscape: the PMRC, Jesse Helms and the forces of censorship waged war on the arts, including punk, metal and hip-hop, with the likes of Judas Priest and 2 Live Crew squarely in their sights. Into those crosshairs came Michael Plumides, who’d come up through the ranks of college radio to operate Charlotte’s controversial 4808 Club.
In his memoir, KILL THE MUSIC, Plumides describes the highs and lows of running a venue, from sleazy sexual liaisons with horny patrons and butting heads with overachieving alcohol and vice agents, to backroom intrigue at the hands of a rival club owner, and the outrageous musical personalities who walked (or staggered) through the loading-dock doors of the club. Things came to a head in September, 1990, when theatrical metal maestros GWAR were booked for a high-profile, all-ages show at the 4808 – it was the opportunity local authorities had been waiting for. Not only is the book a lively read, brimming with memorable, true-life characters (Soundgarden, Bad Brains, Danzig, Corrosion of Conformity, Black Crowes, L.A. Guns, Widespread Panic, Motorhead, Megadeth, Hootie and the Blowfish), it is also a crucial snapshot of a place and time that hasn’t really been documented all that thoroughly.
When Mike Plumides opened up the 4808 Club, the circus officially came to town in Charlotte, and when he was finally forced to shut it down a few short years later, the circus pulled up stakes and left. If you ask some of the locals who still live in Charlotte, by some measures that circus has never come back.”
My name is Michael Plumides, and I’m an author, creative consultant, and filmmaker. You may know me as Executive Producer of Nightbreed: The Director’s Cut. I’m here to get you excited about my film entitled, Faces of Professor Gates.
This is the story of Professor David Gates, PhD, a forensic psychologist who teaches in the Criminal Justice Department at the University of Charleston. David’s case studies assist law enforcement in understanding the psychotic mind.
David is at an impasse in his life, with his wife recently dying of cancer and mother suffering from Alzheimer’s, he feels very alone, although his pretty grad assistant, Collette, has taken a shine to him. Oddly, David unwittingly discovers he has a twin in New York; a bizarre artist in Greenwich Village named Richard Scythe, who is celebrated for painting his lurid portraits of sadistic murder scenes. Some say the art is erotic and others say it’s misogynistic. Regardless, Professor Gates has been separated since birth and longs to be reunited with his brother to fill the emptiness inside him.
Upon meeting, David and Richard are involved in a horrific automobile accident. Richard is killed on impact and David’s face is damaged beyond recognition. A radical, experimental surgery takes place marking the first successful face transplant performed on twins. David recovers miraculously and after a year of physical therapy, he attempts to resume his life once again at the University, with Collette by his side.
However, all is not as it seems. Since the surgery, David is having twisted, grotesque nightmares and people start dying under strange circumstances every time Gates falls asleep. He’s also painting his own grisly portraits. As Professor Gates feverishly chronicles his experience on his laptop, he questions his own sanity as the bodies pile up.
David struggles for his very soul in Faces of Professor Gates, a psychological horror/thriller that pays homage to classic genre films like Hellraiser, American Psycho, and Silence of the Lambs, but with the appeal of recent fare like Split, Get Out, or Green Room.
This is not a “jump scare” movie.
Faces of Professor Gates will have depictions of BDSM, violence, gore, brief nudity, offensive language, and adult situations. However, the film is darkly-comedic so it doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s open-ended with sequels in mind. The film also has branding potential in the 18-49 market, a possible cult hit with the coldness of Cronenberg and the camp of early De Palma.
I’m Michael Plumides, thanking you in advance for your support.
Faces of Professor Gates is copyrighted by Michael Plumides with the Library of Congress
I had an opportunity to catch Drive-By Truckers at the Fillmore in Charlotte, NC on Saturday evening. The veteran Athens quintet is out supporting two new release set to drop on November 18 (details below).
This from the DBTs website:
“We are thrilled to announce the English Oceans Deluxe Edition CD and Black Ice Vérité DVD and LP coming on Tuesday November 18, 2014. Some of you might remember, we recorded a live performance of our latest album last February at The Fabulous 40 Watt Club. All hell broke loose, weather wise, but The Show Went On and our friend Jason Thrasher caught it all on film. The end result is a film we’re really all proud of, running through the new songs in front of a small crowd at one of our favorite rooms on Earth.
“The Black Ice Vérité LP (and bonus CD on the Deluxe Edition) is a collection of 8 songs recorded live, three acoustic performances from The Hay Bale Session we recorded the morning of our Bonnaroo performance, and 5 tracks from this year’s HeAthens Homecoming Weekend in Athens GA. A few old songs, a few new songs and a few very different versions. Available on Glorious White Vinyl (with DVD of Black Ice Vérité included).
“The English Oceans Deluxe Edition CD/DVD includes the album, our most acclaimed work in years, along with the DVD of Black Ice Vérité and a CD of the Black Ice Vérité Bonus Tracks.”
The 14th Annual Weenie Roast was held in Charlotte, NC, hosted by 106.5, The End (WEND-FM – Clear Channel) and Live Nation. With roughly ten thousand in attendance on a balmy September Saturday, So-Cal geek rock aficionados, Weezer, headlined the all day affair with notables, Foster the People, Fitz and the Tantrums, long standing alt. rockers, Fuel, The Pretty Reckless, and others.
Weezer celebrates the 20th Anniversary of their debut release entitled, Weezer (certified “Triple Platinum”), with a a brand new album entitled,Everything Will Be Alright in the End featuring the single, “Back to the Shack”– dropping October 7th.
The Mighty Joe Young of ANTiSEEN among a few recent greats that have passed recently. (Photo: Moloich Photography)
By Michael G. Plumides, Jr. JD
In the immortal words of David Lee Roth, “Where have all the good times gone?” My rock-n-roll comrades are dropping like flies. I guess when you achieve a certain age, it ‘s unavoidable. Death is a part of life, as they say. But in a short period of time, we have lost a few visionaries here in the Southeast, and as I write this, It’s hard to be poetic. I’m a little more misty about the tragic losses of these men because they all touched my life, some for good and some for bad. However, each of these men left an indelible mark on me in my formative years, that would be an intricate part of my definition.
Joe Young- ANTiSEEN (April 30, 2014) Lenoir, North Carolina
When I was sixteen (circa 1981), Joe Young worked at the Record Bar at Southpark in Charlotte – yes, the legendary sludge-rock guitarist worked at the mall. I wanted to work at the mall record store too but they wouldn’t hire me. Didn’t matter how much I knew about music, everyone employed there was easily ten years older than me (except for Joe) and I knew nothing about retail.
While in college at South Carolina, ANTiSEEN was making a big splash at the college radio station where I worked. I think we had one single that received a considerable amount of airplay on the “punk” show, “Raucous Waves”. I hosted occasionally with Keith Bullard (now deceased). But their first LP, Honour Among Thieves garnished the band some attention with their brand of loud, southern dis-hospitality.
After graduating college in 1988, I moved back to Charlotte – only 90 miles up I-77. When the 4808 Club opened on 7th Street, ANTiSEEN became a fixture, first opening for bands like TSOL, and Soundgarden, then headlining shows. Jeff Clayton, the band’s lead singer and long-time partner of Young, was even married at my club in December, 1989, with Joe, Tom O’Keefe, and Greg Clayton playing the wedding march. Joe and I even shared a girlfriend at one point. I remember one time Joe trying to encourage me to come to see G.G. Allin’s show at his “Church of Musical Awareness” – he said, “Mike, you really oughta come see G.G.’s show in October. He said after the set, he’s gonna bring a loaded revolver out on stage and shoot five people in the audience and save the last bullet for himself.” My response was, “Why the fuck would I want to be there?” Joe died suddenly of a heart attack last April after playing with his band for thirty years.
Jeff Lowery – Pterodactyl Club/13-13 (August 3, 2014) – Charlotte, North Carolina
If I had an arch-nemesis, it was Jeff Lowery. At one time, I admired Jeff, and wanted to be part of the new scene he was constructing in the Queen City – first, from the shambles of the legendary punk mecca, the Milestone, inheriting the Tuckaseegee shit hole from Bill Flowers and making a go of it again, bringing in alt. acts like Flaming Lips, and Camper Van Beethoven. Then Lowery opened the Pterodactyl Club, and there was nothing like it in Charlotte. I remember the summer of 1987, I applied for a job as a deejay there. Lowery hired me and then fired me before I had spun one record. It seems the other deejay didn’t like me. All the more reason to open my own place in 1988.
Whether I want to admit it or not, Lowery was an influence – but not just on me. Andy Kastanas, Bob Okamoto, and Conrad Hunter opened the original Park Elevator on South Boulevard and had hosted some shows beginning late 1987 – Gang Green, King Diamond, Psychic TV, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers to name a few. Then I opened the first 4808 Club on Central Avenue, a rock’s throw from the now-leveled Eastland Mall. I brought in the likes of Johnny Quest, Dumptruck, Dark Angel, and Widespread Panic. But both clubs were operating on shoe-string capital – unlike Lowery, who was killing it – with bands on Wednesday, and progressive dance music Thursday through Saturday. Problem was, Lowery didn’t like competition.
As Park Elevator was operating on a month-to-month lease, Lowery snaked their venue out from under them, forcing them to relocate – and Lowery opened 13-13. He later did the same to me at my last 4808 location on 5th Street. Lowery and I had gotten into a bidding war over GWAR, but I got the contract – me, being stupid enough to allow an all-ages show. Lowery didn’t like that too much, so he bought my building. And to add insult to injury, allegedly, he tipped off Daniel Sellers at Alcohol Law Enforcement who raided my club and arrested Oderus Urungus and myself. Coincidentally, Lowery was on the guest list and watched with a needful eye as the chaos unfolded, snickering in the shadows during the incident.
Lowery also went out with a few of my ex-girlfriends – it was weird and incestuous. At a gathering last night to celebrate Jeff’s life at Amos’ Southend, I went, out of politeness. If anyone was shitty, I was going to tell them, “I only came to gloat.” His ex-partner, Tim Blong, tried to convince me of Jeff’s fondness. “Mike, you’ve got it all wrong. Jeff liked you. He said you made it interesting.” Kris, who was Lowery’s long-time girlfriend in the early nineties retorted, “I heard a different story.” We all laughed about it, however tragic. I’m sure me filing Bankruptcy in 1991 was “interesting” enough for the night club entrepreneur and property mogul, with 3 million supposedly in a Cayman account at the time of his demise. But as my Dad used to say, “You can’t take it with you.” Lowery was found dead in his home on August 3, 2014. A toxicology report is pending.
Dean Riopelle – Masquerade Club (September, 24, 2013) Atlanta, Georgia
In the waning days of the 4808 Club, I had befriended Greg Green, who worked as an assistant at the Masquerade Club in Atlanta. Dean Riopelle, his boss, was a night club owner from Florida, who had a string of venues, more notably, The Ritz in Ybor City, and others. Greg would become manager of the Masquerade in the early 1990’s. While I was in law school, circa 1994, Dean decided to start the Masquerade Recordings label. Greg suggested me as “General Manager’. Dean and I discussed terms and he hired me on the spot. I didn’t last too long there. Dean would always walk by my office not saying a word, pausing momentarily in the doorway, then he would go up to his office and call Greg down the hall. Then Greg would come and tell me whatever Dean’s gripe was.
Dean was also in a theatrical outfit called “The Impotent Sea Snakes” – who were mostly a raunchy drag queen troop who incidentally were also musicians. Some of the guys even lived downstairs in the practice space in the bowels of the club at the old Excelsior Mill. They did have a little notoriety though, with guest appearances by the likes of Lemmy Kilmister, Jenna Jameson, and Ron Jeremy. They were a weird group of folks, really into BDSM, which was something that made me a little uncomfortable. Some were into heavy drugs – but not Dean. Dean didn’t drink or do drugs to my knowledge. Dean even used to chastise band mates if they were abusers and encourage them to give up their drug of choice.
When I discovered that Dean had died of a heroin overdose last September, I was dumbfounded. It didn’t make any sense to me, but there again, I knew a guy who started smoking at 40, so what’s the difference? Turned out, Dean was allegedly given a lethal dose of heroin by his girlfriend, Alix Tichelman, who is implicated in the murder of a Google executive. Dean and Alix were all into the bondage thing and had recently done an interview with fIXE Magazine, a fetish rag, where they talked about their master-servant relationship. Also, Tichelman allegedly bit Dean on the hand after an argument at the club, where later he had her arrested. Dean was dead within a week of her release. Tichelman, who made the 9-11 call, left Atlanta in some haste to became a call girl in Silicon Valley. That’s where she met client, Forrest Hayes, on his boat – where she allegedly injected him with heroin. There’s video of her stepping over Hayes’ corpse, finishing her glass of wine, and exiting. The “Black Widow”, Tichelman, is being held without bond. Riopelle was reexamined in July after Tichelman’s arrest in California: A tragic end to a legendary club owner.
David Brockie/Oderus Urungus – Lead Singer of GWAR – Richmond, Virginia
Dave Brockie. What can I say. He was a real sick genius. Interestingly, the above photo was taken at the Masquerade Club in 2009, shortly after the release of my book, Kill the Music. David and I were friends. We happened to share the same jail cell Jeff Lowery put us in by tipping off the cops that fateful September night in 1990. First conversation Dave and I ever had was in the back of a squad car.
On the eve of his memorial before the Gwar-B-Q in Richmond on August 15th, I write this: Brockie and I were arrested together after a live show that allegedly violated North Carolina obscenity statutes, during the moral hysteria of the PMRC years. The charges were later reduced to misdemeanors, and Gwar was banned from performing in North Carolina for a year. The incident was covered by the national media including The Associated Press, Billboard, Rolling Stone and MTV. My 4808 Club in uptown Charlotte was closed by authorities shortly after the arrests.
In its wake, the band shot to stardom, eventually scoring two Grammy nominations, touring the world and becoming known for highly offensive, tongue-in-cheek shows that landed somewhere between Alice Cooper, Monty Python and “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” He was an extraordinary painter, a talented musician, a criminally ignored lyricist, a quick-witted comedian and actor, and a mesmerizing frontman. Brockie performed with musical acts X-Cops, Death Piggy and DBX, appeared in several movies, was the “Intergalactic Correspondent” on late-night Fox News program “Red Eye” and was on two seasons of Fearnet’s “Holliston.”
Brockie and I had continued our relationship in the 25 years since our incarceration. I promoted a number of Gwar shows in the Southeast in the early ’90s and wrote a book, “Kill the Music,” which chronicled our experience during the PMRC era, interviewed Brockie at Bonnaroo in 2010 for an article titled “Bonnaroo Must Be Destroyed,” and wrote frequently about Gwar for Blurt and my blog. He even asked me to work on a “Blackbeard” project he was working on. Gwar overcame many obstacles and changed lineups over the years, but Brockie remained the consummate taskmaster at his company, Slave Pit Enterprises, and was the last original member to play with the group. His death followed Cory Smoot, the long-standing guitarist, found dead in his bed on the tour bus coming back from Canada in 2011.
I knew Dave had dabbled in all sorts of drugs and debauchery, but I didn’t think he habitually chased the dragon. Dave died of heroin overdose shortly after getting back from a very successful tour of Australia and Japan.
Don Drakulich (aka Sleazy P. Martini of Gwar) may have said it best: “If there is any solace in this, it’s that there was little suffering. He went out on a high point in his career. And he will never know the feeling of just fading away. He went out like a rock star. My biggest regret is not getting a chance to say goodbye.”
Art Boerke – Rockafella’s Night Club (February 17, 2013) – Columbia, South Carolina
Art Boerke was huge – but he was also a big influence on me. He was a legend at my college radio station. In 1988, when he was the Program Director at 95-7 FM, I asked him for a job while I was still in college. He told me, “You talk to much!” Funny, coming from Art because he seldom would let you get a word in edgewise once he started going. But Art was a brilliant guy. He was also a great promoter and owned the iconic Five Points club, Rockafella’s. Art gave acts like Edwin McCain, and Hootie and the Blowfish their start.
I learned a lot from Art, both what to do and what not to do. I said for him not to buy that Quiet Riot show he lost his ass on, and supposedly, he told me not to do an all-ages GWAR show. Admittedly, I did it so Lowery wouldn’t get it – that was a life choice. Art became dear friends with my brother Damon, and was always with us for as far back as I can remember. But it was Art Boerke who put Columbia on the map for music in the 1990’s. The Impotent Sea Snakes played at Rockafella’s, so did GWAR, and ANTiSEEN. Art, me, and Lowery, all did business with a guy named Chris Bojonavich, who used to work for Cecil Corbett. We all popped into each other’s clubs from time to time.
Art got out of the night club business, went back to school and up to the time of his death, was a college professor. Art and my brother Damon wrote a children’s book together called, The Adventures of Caterwaul the Cat: Feline Pie. Art died after falling on his head when he was released prematurely from Carolinas Medical Center, after he had taken too many Ambien, prescribed for a sleep study, in February of 2013.
These guys were punk pioneers in their own right, before the corporations took over. I wrote about each in my memoir, just a few short years ago. They were all still alive in 2009. It makes me feel very alone thinking about them. Nothing lasts forever,it seems… but their tales will echo in eternity.
With a mesmerizing laser light show, nu-techno synth pop visionaries PHANTOGRAM brought their Cocteau Twins meets Massive Attack brooding beats and haunting vocal stylings to the Fillmore Charlotte on a balmy Wednesday night with an energetic stage presence and clever musicianship. The Greenwich Village duo, sexy Sarah Barthel on vocals and keyboards (donning a Chrissie Hynde mop, and skin tight black and white paints) and Josh Carter on vocals and guitar were accompanied by tour drummer Chris Carhart and Nick Shelestak on keyboards for their Charlotte appearance. The band played their more popular songs, “Don’t Move”, “When I’m Small”, “Fall in Love”, and “Black Out Days” to the nearly sold out crowd of a 1,000 screaming fans.
Visually exploding on stage with visceral reds and blues, the pulse-pounding music combined with tantalizing allure of lead vocalist, Barthel, Phantogram is about to bust out of their underground status. After putting on rock shows for years, and covering hundreds of bands, I sense a new act for the Grammy’s – and Barthel is a talented, strong female performer with a fantastic look and sound. Not only is the band tight, but her pants are too… and she wears them well. Rock star presence is something missing today and this girl’s got it in spades.
I like to take photos – it’s fun. Check out these shots I took in Nashville on June 21, 2014 at the Ryman Theater (the original “Grand Ole Opry House”). Normally I get a photo pass but in this particular situation I didn’t ask for one. But knowing how I love to capture the moment, I brought my new Canon SX 280 HS and shot these from the balcony.
My dear friend, David Murray Brockie (50) of the shock-rock group, GWAR, has died. This is a piece I wrote in October of 2012 examining the twenty-five year relationship with David. Details and funeral arrangements are pending.
This is a piece I wrote two years ago regarding my relationship with my long-time friend and partner in crime, Dave Brockie, who died yesterday. David Murray Brockie, 50, was found dead in his bed Sunday afternoon by his roommate. I don’t have further details at this time. The last time Dave was in Charlotte he hugged me around the neck and said, “Man, I’ve been keeping up with all your stuff. I’m so proud of you, man. I’m a fan. You really got your name out there.” That affirmation meant a lot to me. Dave and I go back twenty-five years. Indeed, this is a sad day in music and a terrible loss – Of all the many people I know in rock-n-roll, Dave was the brightest, quickest, most intelligent and creative person I had ever met. To read more, go here:http://m.styleweekly.com/richmond/gwar-frontman-dave-brockie-has-died/Content?oid=2048548 I will, more than…
Over the many decades of my jaunt into the now dying format of Rock-n-Roll, I have experienced a multitude of legendary bands, changing music trends, and devoted fans who have influenced this writer’s perspective. I have watched with a keen eye as the times change and when they stay the same – and watched music acts come and go. One of the few constants in my sojourn has been Social Distortion; the group has transcended many of their contemporaries from meager and tumultuous beginnings to continue to mesmerize a crowd. I caught their sold out live show at the Fillmore – Charlotte, November 10, 2012. Interestingly, Social D. and I have some history, as a fan, a promoter, and now as a music writer.
When I transferred in 1984 from University of South Carolina to UNC- Wilmington, I met this guy named “Death Skate” from Va. Beach, a pock-faced punk rocker with wisdom beyond his years. One of Death Skate’s many astute observations as he sat in the dirt in front of the student union smoking cloves (or maybe doing an Ollie – I can’t remember) was, “Cats are Anarchists. They do whatever they want” referring to the feline lack of ability to take commands.
Death Skate’s name was Brian. He was real. While I was living in Wrightsville Beach jamming to The Replacements, The Smiths, and English Beat, Death Skate was dropping the needle on Crass, Government Issue, and The Vandals. In an infinite moment of clarity circa 1985, Death Skate hand-painted the moniker of the now legendary So-Cal quartet, Social Distortion – with a skeleton holding a martini glass, on the back of his leather motorcycle jacket. Back then you didn’t have all this contrived merchandise everyone wears today, you made your own.
1983’s album entitled, Mommy’s Little Monster had already become the stuff of legend among punkers – but due to front man, Mike Ness, and his addiction to heroin at the time, Social Distortion was one of those unattainable bands live. They were a rumor. You rarely had a chance to see Social D, unless of course, you lived in California and even then their appearances were sparse. Ness spent a lot of his time in-and-out of institutions and flopping on friend’s floors; factors which contributed to the band’s on-again off-again status.
Punk took a surmountable dedication to be authentic, and most of the good stuff wasn’t on the record rack at the mall. If you wanted to be in the know, you bought Maximum Rock-n-Roll or Flipside and those were hard to come by too. Early on, to acquire Social Distortion’s music, you had to order the LP from your local Record Bar and wait several weeks to get it. Punk rock and hardcore wasn’t about fashion but more about attitude – to fly in the face of an overreaching and stifling federal government, i.e. the PMRC, and music ratings hearings spearheaded by the Reagan Administration. The dissention was by-and-for an alienated and disenfranchised suburban youth with scenes burgeoning in every locale: DC, Boston, Chicago and especially Orange County.
But Ness’ band had tapes with songs like “1945” (which had garnished the attention of long-standing West Coast radio staple KROQ as far back as 1982), “The Creeps”, and the Rolling Stones’ “Under my Thumb” floating around like Dead shows, with great hooks and unique vocal-styling; all would become anthems for the socially outcast.
After working at the fabled “Cable-FM” station in Wilmington, the lost but lauded WLOZ-FM (incidentally the station shut its doors in 2001), I transferred back to Gamecock Country in 1986 and signed on with WUSC-FM. Upon my return, I had adopted an outward skate punk ethos in my Dog Town t-shirt and Chuck Taylor’s with a “Suicidal Skates” sticker on the back of my Celica. I was also busy with my Sunday radio show at WUSC, and filling in for the host of “Raucous Waves” (The Gnashing Chicklet) and the request line would always light up with teen punker’s suggestions of a Social D. play, along with Dead Kennedys and Suicidal Tendencies. Social D.s’ Prison Bound EP had made its way into heavy rotation by the spring of 1988, after the band had signed to Restless Records (The Cramps, The Dead Milkmen, Flaming Lips). Ness had spent some time in County and acquired a taste for Johnny Cash, prompting the recording “Ring of Fire”, with Social Distortion adopting a “Cow Punk” sensibility that would become the band’s driving element in their music for some years. It would also appear the band was arriving. This would pave the way for what was to come – the quartet signed to a major label, and my involvement and subsequent show promotions of Social Distortion.
By 1989, I was booking bigger acts than just your local fare at the 4808 Club, with a little help, of course. One can’t have too many friends. I started co-promoting with a guy named Chris Bojonavic, a scrappy, punk rock Clemson grad with a thick New York accent – a so-called “silent partner” of mine, a little on the shady side. “Bojo” had just inked some backing from legendary concert promoter, Cecil Corbett, which later he would come to regret. Chris and I promoted a number of shows together: Bad Brains, Corrosion of Conformity, Soundgarden, Danzig, and of course, we did Social Distortion – it was a glorious time for headbangers and punks.
So Bojo and I promoted a Social D show early in February of 1990. Recently signed to Epic Records, they played songs off of their upcoming effort, “Ball and Chain” and “Story of My Life” and of course “Ring of Fire” of which, they would re-record for their self-titled album. The band liked to play their new songs for a live crowd to test them out before they recorded them.
I used to love to take the bands to eat. It was the moment you could examine them. Before the show, I took Ness and the others to eat at Ty’s on 7th Street. Ty’s had a “Cajun Ribeye” steak with a loaded backed potato, salad and beverage for eight bucks (and the buyout was ten) so I always took the bands there, and if I was strapped for cash Ty would take a check. I became fast friends with Dennis Danell, founding guitarist for the band. Dennis was just a sweetheart of a guy; he and I talked about a sandwich shop he had opened in Newport Beach, the tour, and the new record deal. We all made mostly small talk, but they were a genuine group of guys – you could tell they were elated about taking their SoCal punk to the next level. But there was also an underlying apprehension.
The then line-up of Social D, Ness: Danell, John Maurer, and Chris Reese almost had a fear of the unknown after knowing only the indie world since the band’s inception in 1978 – but they also knew it was time to get their shit together. Of the band, Mike was the quiet one, who didn’t say much as he sat at the head of the table. He would mutter occasionally, in his raspy voice, and laugh as he pushed the food around on his plate. Ness did say, “This is a great steak. Could I get another glass of tea?” But when he did speak, everyone listened.
That year, Social Distortion would release their first album on Epic, entitled, Social Distortion, recorded by engineer, Dave Jerden (Jane’s Addiction, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Alice in Chains). The album was certified “Gold” – which was unheard of for a punk act. I would promote one other Social Distortion show in August of 1990 at the new incarnation of 4808 on 5th Street (the other was shut down after fire code violations following an L.A. Guns show the previous April). Dennis and I were out all hours of the night after the show getting into trouble, but not as much trouble as we would have liked. Sadly, Dennis died of a brain aneurism in 2000. Of the experience, Ness expressed, “I am saddened beyond any possible form of expression. Dennis and I have been friends since boyhood, starting Social Distortion together while we were in high school. My deepest regrets go to his family.”
After the infamous GWAR bust in September of 1990, I moved to Myrtle Beach, SC, and started promoting shows again at different clubs up and down the East Coast to moderate success. My main venue was The Purple Gator. It was right around the corner from my house and a great venue, way before House of Blues arrived. Another was in Wilmington called Jacob’s Run – a club that had taken up the mantle of the Mad Monk when it burned to the ground in late 1991. I did tons of stuff in the Southeast since Bojo had split the country with the gate receipts after a Megadeth debacle (incidentally I broke my nose after I got roped into working security – somebody’s ass came over the barricade and landed squarely on my face) at the Grady Cole Center – Bojo hasn’t returned since.
So, I took his place as the new indie promoter in the South. That summer I did: Widespread Panic, Helmet, Testament, White Zombie, Bad Religion, Agnostic Front, Colonel Bruce Hampton, L 7, and I grabbed a couple of Social Distortion shows, with openers Reverend Horton Heat and Paw, for Savannah at Congress Street Station and in Charleston at the Music Farm. The band was supporting their new release aptly entitled, “Somewhere between Heaven and Hell” which was exactly where I was about to be.
Savannah was always a little troublesome, promotion-wise. You did have the art school there but when you promoted shows in the summer, everyone moved to work in Hilton Head forty-five minutes away, so surfers and skaters would have to travel. Now that Live Nation has a monopoly and rock’s appeal is definitely more selective (and with $10 canned beer), its commonplace that shows start around 8 PM but back then club shows usually started around 10:30 PM and ran until about 2 AM so the bar could sell some booze.
When I arrived on July 24, 1992, the city looked abandoned. I was worried to death. And the band was touring with this Samoan sound man – charging me an extra $500 for monitors. I remembered this guy. He was a real pain in the ass and loved to start shows way too early so he could load out at midnight even after I objected and gave him the set times. The Samoan did the same thing to me on a Testament/C.O.C./White Zombie bill at the Purple Gator – I lost money on that one too. That afternoon I popped my head inside Vinnie Van Go-Go’s while the band grabbed some pie. The employees assured me that the show would do well which, for the moment, put my mind at ease.
Paw hit the stage at 8:45, Reverend Horton Heat at 9:40, Social D at 10:30 – and I got creamed. People were showing up at 10:45 and Social Distortion was already playing. They had missed Horton Heat, who had a good buzz at the time and easily seventy-five people turned away. I don’t think it was the band’s fault. They just show up and play when the Samoan tells them to.
I was frantic – about $1200.00 short at the door plus I had no reserve cash and no way to get any on a Saturday. Back then, there wasn’t a cash machine on every corner and I doubt they were gonna take a check. I remember sitting in the Congress Street manager’s office and the Reverend was bitching at me in a drunken stupor, “Why don’t you pay us our money, man?” After some interrogation, Quincy, one of the club owners, agreed to loan me the $1200.00 as he placed his fire arm on the table. Quincy, with his mustache, mullet, and gold chain, alongside a 6’ 4” goon named Larry, would then follow me in his Sedan Deville to Charleston with the intent of collecting his cabbage after the next show. It was a scene right out of Burt Reynolds’ Gator.
The Charleston show was a whole ‘nother ball a’ wax. I made sure the show started later – but since it was a Sunday night show, the club had advertised it as an early show. Needless to say, Social Distortion packed it – the show was a huge success with the support of the Music Farm, and WAVE-FM. In the wake of the Battery being rebuilt, Charleston was also manufacturing an involved and supportive local music scene. So I paid Quincy off, and got him off my back –then I drove back to Myrtle Beach with $13 dollars. I barely had enough gas to get home.
Fast forward some twenty years later. Social Distortion had come through town last year as the opener for Foo Fighters at Time Warner Cable Arena – I guess this is one of the stories where the times have changed. Then I heard they were coming around again. So, I contacted Andy Somers, their long-time agent and he put me on the list (I occasionally have to remind him of my sufferings those many moons ago) and when I arrived, there was a ticket, an “After Show” and a “Photo” pass. I take pictures with either a digital camera, or screen capture from my Flip – I love being in the orchestra pit with the hoity-toity photographers and their big lenses because they always look at me peculiarly, wondering how I got there.
Lindi Ortega and the Biters ably opened, a three-piece conjuring feigns to P.J. Harvey, and Jucifer with hints of The Del Fuegos and maybe the more contemporaneous sound of Heartless Bastards. After running in to a handful of old school punks mixed in with the crowd of transplants, I took my position stage center in the orchestra pit and got settled. Mike Ness came out wearing a suit, tie, red suspenders, and a fedora – and boy did he rock the house. I forgot all about the $20 I just spent on a beer and Jagermeister and happily contemplated my youth. With that undeniable, soaring guitar sound that would wake Les Paul from his grave, Mike Ness played with all the intensity and angst of a teenager sneaking out on a warm summer night to the sold out Fillmore crowd.
The band opened with “Far Far, Away” followed by “Bad Luck”, “Highway 101” don’t take me for Granted” and “Machine Gun Blues”. The show was breath-taking – and loud. Ness continued to woo onlookers with favorites like “Cold Feelings”, and the perennial “1945” – “Telling Them”, “Bakersfield” and the jangly-hillbilly tune, “Sometimes I Do, and Sometimes I Don’t”. The band continued with songs like “Black Magic”, “Company C” and with Ness’ rendition of “Ring of Fire” it was evident my sojourn had come full circle.
Social Distortion continues their tour through December and January, returning this week to where it all began; Orange County – playing five shows in Anaheim, then to Las Vegas, West Hollywood, and San Diego.
I think this quote from one of Ness’ latest entitled, “Still Alive” sums it up: “With a guitar in my hand I stand a little taller, and I’ve been to hell and back. I ain’t falling off this track, from the back to the front page, from the gutter to the stage.” I don’t long for the good old days, but I do reflect on them fondly. And as for these “cats” – Social Distortion are among those “Anarchists” I spoke of. Mike Ness did whatever he wanted, and it looks to me like he has a great time doing it.
The celebrated actor/singer/activist talks Lebowski and Crazy Heart, music and politics – and his role with the “No Kid Hungry” project (photo: Michael Plumides).
BY MICHAEL G. PLUMIDES, JR.
Foraging through the carnival-esque streets of Charlotte, North Carolina during the opening ceremony festivities of the Democratic National Convention, it occurred to me that I didn’t recognize my town anymore. On my bicycle I traversed the once familiar byways to find CNN had invaded the EpiCentre with its moniker erected on the side. I contemplated I was actually in Atlanta or even New York as people bustled and newsmen reported on the street corners. It was alien to me.
Not one to overly reminisce (well, maybe…), it had come to mind that the old warehouse on 5th Street, once home to my legendary 4808 Club where the infamous GWAR obscenity arrests had occurred in 1990, had been leveled and is now paid parking. In the blink of an eye, the city had grown up with all the unadulterated commerciality of any metropolitan area. The Daily Show was taping live in the Queen City as was Colbert, Tom Brokaw was rushed to the hospital after mistakably taking a morning Ambien, Chris Matthews was broadcasting live, and Scarlett Johansson was somewhere. Even more enthralling, one of my all-time heroes, Jeff Bridges, was performing songs with his band “The Abiders” in the middle of Tryon Street.
I originally thought I would approach this article with an attempt at some sprawling New Yorker type shit as any tragically aging hipster turned political pundit would – but my page count and subject matter were not only prohibitive but cautionary. Although my charge was to cover the events that transpired at the convention, this article’s focus is primarily representative of a legendary man; a man who is truly a priceless piece of Americana. In my opinion Bridges is, and has been, a quintessential example of an American Patriot: An entertainer, philanthropist, devoted father and husband, Jeff Bridges truly is “The man for his time and place.”
BLURT: First, let’s talk about the new record on Blue Note you recorded last year. You worked with T Bone Burnett on your self-titled album, Jeff Bridges.
JEFF BRIDGES: T Bone and I go back maybe 30 years. We worked on a movie together called Heaven’s Gate. Kris Kristofferson starred and he brought along a lot of his musician friends – Ronnie Hawkins, Norton Buffalo, and T Bone. And you can imagine having all of those great musicians there. We played a lot of music together. We had a wonderful time and we remained friends all these years but had kind of lost touch.
You have collaborated with Burnett on numerous occasions, for instance on the Crazy Heart film and soundtrack. Did you usher T Bone into the Coen Brothers fold on The Big Lebowski and is that how he garnered the attention and later collaborations with the Coens?
We hooked up again when T Bone was music supervisor on The Big Lebowski. I don’t think I introduced Bone to the Brothers. It was just a coincidence. Crazy Heart came down the pike and originally I turned it down. Although it was a good story, it needed music, so I sent the script to T Bone to see if he had any interest in it and he said, “If you’ll do it, I’ll do it.” So I said, “Okay, let’s go”. The movie, Crazy Heart, was dedicated to Steve Bruton. He died shortly before the movie came out. “What Little Love Can Do” off the latest album is a Steve Bruton tune. But Steven wrote a lot of the songs from Crazy Heart. “Falling and Flying” is one of his.
There’s been some reference to the newest album; that it’s “gloomy” and “slow”, even a bit “dirgy” which, to me would reflect dissatisfaction of some kind in life. But with all your successes in film, art, photography, and now music – let’s face it, you are a pop icon – you are “The Dude.” Although your persona is one of melancholy with a hint of realist-positivism, do the songs that you contributed to the album reflect that tint of sadness you possess?
As a human being I have my dose of melancholy as we all do. You know, it’s funny. Even when you’re at the top of your game it doesn’t mean that you’re happy all the time. “Falling Short” is an old song but one I can relate to. It’s about never quite hitting the mark. Being obsessed with perfection and sometimes that desire can keep you from enjoying life. “Everything But Love” was written by my old friend, Johnny Goodwin. We go back to the fourth grade. It talks about what an incredible thing love is. You could be on top of the world and if you don’t have love, you’ll be wanting and hurting. “Tumbling Vine” is an up song, in a way. It speaks to my thought process. I’m what I would call Buddhistly bent. I kind of lean toward that philosophy.
A review of your live set on Austin City Limits by Ain’t it Cool News described the show as “good-time music- hand-clapping, toe-tapping and yee-hawing.”
That doesn’t sound so melancholy. (laughs)
There are your obvious influences: Dylan, Johnny Cash, The Grateful Dead, The Beatles. What about more obscure influences such as Frank Zappa, or Dr, John?
I was sort of a Captain Beefheart fan over Frank Zappa. Leonard Cohen is a great poet. I love his stuff. My buddy, John Goodwin, I love his stuff. I don’t listen to a whole hell of a lot of music. I have an iPod. I don’t text, or use Facebook, or tweet, or anything that sophisticated. I do have a website though.
You know, you being from Charlotte, I’m surprised you didn’t ask me about my North Carolina connection.
And what is that?
Well, one is I was in a film with Gary Busey, another actor-musician, called The Last American Hero, about the life of Junior Johnson, the race car driver. The other is Benji Hughes, man. He’s a wonderful cat. I love his music. He sang back up on my album. You should check out Love Extreme on iTunes. I had a wonderful time hanging with him at the convention.
You know, someone said that to me at the DNC. I mentioned Benji in my book, Kill The Music. Okay, I have to ask you a serious question.
Oh, wow. Go ahead.
Do you really hate the fucking Eagles?
(Laughs heartily) That was a character I played, man. No, the Eagles have made some good music and I don’t hate them. But every time I see one of those guys at a party around town they give me a dose of shit.
You perform some songs from Crazy Heart – a film you won your first Academy Award for. But Rolling Stone referred to you as a “Cleaned up ‘Bad Blake’ or a ‘Dude with ambitions beyond the bowling lanes’.”
That’s not so bad, is it? I don’t see that as a dig.
You touring with The Abiders, and as your good friend, Sam Elliot narrated in Lebowski, “There’s a man for his time and place”… you are doing so with a few secular purposes, one being “No Kid Hungry” – which I think has really raised consciousness about hunger in America. Expand on your different roles as an entertainer, a philanthropist, a musician, but mostly as an American.
Basically, I consider myself a product of nepotism. My father, Lloyd Bridges, was on a television show in the ‘60s called Sea Hunt. If you’ve ever seen it you’d see a little chubby kid. That was me. I grew up in the entertainment business, and all the other actor’s children were becoming actors. My father helped me get my first break. When my acting took off in my teenage years I was still interested in music. It was my dad who told me stick with acting. The great thing about acting is you get to use all sorts of different aspects of yourself. I’m glad I listened to my dad because he was right.
But as I got older I started thinking about being not only an American but a citizen of the world, man. An Earthling, you know. And my dad brought home a book one day called, The Family of Man, a photographic essay that looked at all the different people of the world as a big family. I started thinking how we’re this little speck out in space and all this fighting doesn’t make any sense. That’s when I realized we’re all in this together and we should try to make it a good trip for all of us. That train of thought led me to my hunger work with the “No Kid Hungry” program. In America we have sixteen million kids hungry. It wasn’t a matter of how to end hunger, but to create the political will to make it a priority. I just felt that safety net they talk about was starting to get holes in it.
In Esquire you said, “Live like you’re already dead, man. Have a good time. Do your best. Let it all come ripping right through you.” So, is politics next? Do you have any political aspirations?
(Laughs) Yeah! As for politics, not really. I’m best used outside of politics, but I went to both the Democratic and Republican National Conventions because I felt American children going hungry is a non-partisan issue. I was happy to find that the Chairman of the Governor’s Association informed me both the Republicans and Democrats are all on board. Governor O’Malley from Maryland and I jammed together at the School of Rock (at the NC Music Factory in Uptown Charlotte). We rehearsed and we were supposed to play but it rained on us so it didn’t happen.
You know that you have 1257 fans on Facebook for you as a “write in” for President in 2012.
Really?
The slogan at the top of the page is, “They say America is becoming a third world country, but, like… that’s just their opinion, man.”
Yeah, I don’t think that’s an accurate quote (laughs).
What about a Clinton/Bridges ticket in 2016?
Oh, God. That would be something, wouldn’t it? Only in the movies, man.
Interacting with the politicians at both conventions, what have you learned first-hand about the political process? My guess is you’ve met a lot of “Big Lebowskis” stealing from the “Little Urban Achievers”?
You got to hand it to these guys, you know? Politicians, people willing to get into that game it takes a lot of courage and a lot of heart. Just like every aspect of life there’s corruption, but there are those that are really good people. I had dinner with the Secretary of Agriculture, Tom Vilsack, and he was inspiring on the hunger issue – it was heartening that he was so supportive. It gives you a feeling of hope when you can talk to guys like that. When I heard about Paul Ryan’s plan to cut food stamps by a hundred billion dollars over the next ten years, I thought that was a bummer, man. We had to get motivated.
So, I’m throwing all these ham-handed Lebowski references at you. But didn’t you just reunite with your cast mates in New York?
That was a kick off for The Big Lebowski Blu-Ray release at Lebowski Fest. We all got together and we were interviewed on stage in New York. It was wonderful seeing everyone again. I have a film coming out with Julianne Moore next year called Seventh Son.
And your Thunderbolt and Lightfoot co-star Clint Eastwood stole the show at the Republican National Convention. I think it was a publicity stunt for his upcoming film release, Trouble with the Curve. Care to comment?
That’s one of the great things about being in the movies. You get to work with people with all kinds of “opinions” as The Dude might say.
Speaking of past co-stars, she won a Golden Globe and a SAG award recently for her role as Constance in American Horror Story, also recently received an Emmy for her role. Describe what was it like when you first laid eyes on Jessica Lange in 1975 for King Kong?
Oh, God. She was and still remains a wonderful woman inside and out. She was gorgeous. In that movie, King Kong, playing the airhead was so far away from her, actually. She was a smart person and a talented actress.
Have you thought about doing television?
I’m open to anything. I wouldn’t rule it out.
You’ve got a thing for blondes. You are married to one. And they are a big inspiration for you. Your daughter even has a new album, correct? Jess Bridges?
Jess has an album that’s up on iTunes. She’s been my assistant on the last three movies I’ve been in. We shot the last one in Vancouver. We ended up playing a lot of music together. Jess liked it so much she stayed two months afterward to record some music. They’ve got a wonderful music scene up there.
My niece, Alexandria’s favorite movie is True Grit. Of all of your films, give me your top five and why?
Oh man, that’s gonna be hard. I’ll just mention my favorites, the ones that come to mind. The Last Picture Show, that stands alone. It sits there all by itself. Great performances by Ben Johnson, Cloris Leachman, and Sam Bottoms. Sam was great – he passed away recently. The cast was wonderful. It’s films like Picture Show that have a home movie quality to me. Lebowski, True Grit, it’s always great to work with the Brothers… Crazy Heart, Fabulous Baker Boys, The Fisher King with Terry Gilliam. I’ve made some great movies, man.
Do you have any advice for filmmakers, musicians, photographers, writers, or artists in general?
You’ve got to just do it. There’s so much fear involved in life. That’s why you’ve got to be afraid and then do it anyway. Follow your dream.
Michael G. Plumides, Jr. is the author of KILL THE MUSIC, about his experiences in music during the moral hysteria of the PMRC years available on Amazon. Also a filmmaker, Plumides’ concept, GHOST TREK, is in development. Plumides recently contracted with Morgan Creek Productions as a Creative Consultant on “Clive Barker’s Night Breed”.
THE YEARS OF SOCIAL DISTORTION
Michael G. Plumides Jr.'s The Decline of Southern Civilization 