The year is 1974. Your band Van Halen is starting to get a little bit of buzz around Pasadena and the surrounding areas of Los Angeles (you will be huge in Glendale). Of course, you want to start looking more professional so it’s about time you go take some band photos. But how do you do it? Here is everything you need to do to be in a Van Halen photoshoot circa 1974.
1. Have at Least One Member of the Band Ready To Receive the Heimlich
Preferably the beautiful guy up front — he’s the one who’s been eating all the brown M&Ms, and you know he’s not taking the time to chew them properly.
2. Go 100% On Hair, 0% On Makeup
Let the acne fucking fly — who cares? It’s 1974. Skincare won’t be invented for another 20 years. Hell, sunscreen with an SPF higher than 2 wasn’t invented until 1986. Skin means nothing. HAIR, baby.
3. Never Let Anybody See the Tip of Michael Anthony’s Left Elbow
Keep that shit out of the frame. Worst elbow in rock. Rumor has it, his elbow was so reviled that the entire band was forbidden from entering Germany unless he removed his arm at the shoulder. Worst sneakers, too — but that’s a story for a different day. Don’t bring it up again.
4. Counteract Impending Baldness With an Abundance of Hair Elsewhere
And by elsewhere, sweetie, we mean anywhere: sideburns, armpits, chest, back, knuckles, a little tuft coming through the crotch. Play it off as a mistake, but let it be known: “Hair” is not a problem in this band.
5. Alex Stands In Back.
If you don’t have Alex stand in the back it messes everything up. Drummers are never meant to be up front. If you see any of Alex’s lower half it will be a disaster. Put him in the back where he can loom over the others. Loom!
Conclusion: Beautiful, guys. No psychos in this photo. Prepare yourselves for a long and fruitful career with absolutely no turmoil.
The “Mad About You” theme song is one of the worst examples of white guy jazz there is. And nobody has ever moshed to white guy jazz. 
All horns and strings in this theme song. But somehow it’s even worse than ska, at least you can skank to ska. There is no skanking to this theme, not even close. 
The “Law and Order” theme kind of goes hard, but it never gets you over the hump. Ideally, you are compelled to mosh by sheer force of will, not because you’ve been standing around for an hour and your knees hurt. 
For an album with such a bold title, there’s not much going on here. It bounces around in a lot of directions, but none of them are very interesting. It’s one of those albums that seems like it was made just to trip up Name That Tune players, because few of these tracks will stick in your brain. They should’ve called it “Punk Goes Elevator Music.”
“Does This Look Infected?” was an intentional attempt to grow beyond the pop-punk sound that the band established in their breakout debut album. The result is a record stuck in an eternal, awkward adolescence, like it’s got a wispy little mustache on the cover. Sure, it’s “more mature” than their previous work, but when your last record’s hit single had a line about laughing at old people falling over, does that really mean anything?
If you need evidence that these guys are more than just Canadian Blink-182, look no further than this album: they’re also Canadian Greenday, circa “American Idiot.” Sum 41 has never been afraid to be a little derivative — sometimes to their benefit — but it doesn’t quite work out for them here. The production feels a little low rent at times, like the tracks were just normalized in Audacity. Still, one of the songs almost got frontman Deryck Whibley deported because some Republicans thought he was threatening to kill Bush, which is pretty fuckin’ cool.
You can’t really discuss Sum 41 without mentioning this EP. I probably got a dozen computer viruses trying to track it down on Kazaa. It was a pretty prescient glimpse of the band’s future, being a mainly punk work with a couple of metal songs tossed in for good measure. Fun fact: since the total playtime comes in at 26 minutes and 27 seconds, the title of the record is the most accurate accounting of time in punk history.
It’s a small tragedy that the moment Sum 41 had largely evaporated from the public consciousness, they started releasing some excellent albums. It took them a decade and a half, but these boys figured out how to fuse pop-punk and metal, and it freakin’ rips. The return of guitarist Dave Baksh certainly helps — the solos might not quite melt your face, but they’ll for sure soften it up a bit.
If I told you Sum 41 wrote an album about how divisive politics are these days, you’d probably roll your eyes and do a jerk-off motion. But it actually works! Okay, maybe not as genuine commentary, but it’s a crystallized, laser-focused distillation of everything the band has been trying to do. It’s driving and intense, but still catchy. Plus, have you seen how divisive politics are these days?
“All Killer No Filler” may have been the biggest thing to happen in 2001. Well, top three, anyway. It was impossible to escape this album. I’m pretty sure every single track was featured in a movie or TV show at some point. It’s the kind of album that could convince a 34-year-old comedy writer that he could still learn how to skateboard, despite the fact that he’s never done so much as an ollie. It is pure magic.
After dragging themselves through the crucible that was “Does This Look Infected?” Sum 41 emerged on the other side ready to craft their masterwork. Part of me sometimes wonders if my affection for this album is just a vain attempt to gain cred on long-defunct online music forums, but my concerns fall away immediately whenever I listen to it. It’s varied without feeling directionless, intense without becoming grating. Exactly like everyone on the old message boards said.
When it comes to queercore, these guys are the daddies so to speak. I don’t mean that in the fetish sense, more they were one of the first and best queer punk bands out there. Though, given their advanced age, I suppose they technically fall into the daddy category.
Fronted by LGBTQ icon Beth Ditto, these Arkansas punks met at Evergreen State College and were a part of the Kill Rock Stars lineup. Their sound is perfect for the more dance-oriented queer clubs. You could theoretically open a pit on the dance floor but best to read the room before trying.
Frontman Seth Bogart frequently performs in nothing but a leather jacket and a leopard print thong. Hunx takes the late 70s snotty sound of Richard Hell and The Dead Boys and adds more than a touch of John Waters-style camp and ’60s girl group hooks. Though you’d be forgiven if you spent the whole time just staring at his beautiful ass.
As we do not do bi-erasure here, we’re including the iconic ‘90s punks fronted by openly bisexual Billie Joe Armstrong. “Coming Clean” is an introspective track about one’s sexuality. Also, let’s not forget that ode to gender benders “King for a Day.” So now that you know Armstrong is bi, that one line in “Basket Case” kind of makes more sense, yeah? Way to be heteronormative.
I guess this is a bit of a stretch as they didn’t sing about queer topics, though their lyrics had that sort of detached shade that only gay men are capable of. I guess that’s why Joe Genarro wrote such great lyrics. It was kind of nice to learn that the frontman of one of the best ’80s bands is a fellow butt boy.
Before St. Vincent, Portlandia, and even Sleater-Kinney, punk legend Carrie Brownstein played in this early riot grrrl outfit out of Portland that also was rooted in the queercore scene. So I guess they were a twofer? Anyway, listen to this album anytime you hear a more recent Sleater-Kinney record and are wondering what went wrong. This or any of Sleater-Kinney first eight albums.
Grant Hart and Bob Mould are bisexual and gay icons. But more than that, they made some of the best guitar music of the ’80s. Mould and Hart later clashed over creative control and drugs, which, if you’ve ever been out on a Saturday night in Bushwick or West Hollywood, you’d know is pretty gay. If your favorite bear night has been overrun by twinks, consider seeing a Bob Mould show.
Taking their cues from early queer punk legends Randy Turner and Gary Floyd, they brought a queer sensibility to the otherwise macho hardcore scene. So keep that in mind before queuing them up on the jukebox, the bartender will likely skip them for killing the place’s “vibe.”
Coming out of the Olympia, WA scene, these riot grrls were brash, loud, and unapologetic in singing their truth. Play “One More Hour” a track written about Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein’s romantic relationship coming to an end and try not to feel heartbroken as well.
Fronted by all-around badass Laura Jane Grace, Against Me! May possibly be Florida’s only positive contribution to contemporary music. Transgender Dysphoria Blues is a modern punk classic dealing with Grace’s gender transition. Play them as a nice fuck you to any Daily Wire spewing aunts you have to deal with.
