Opinion: Ska Is Still the Best Music Genre To Be Chased by Mall Security While Rollerblading

Posted on by Chris Bowen

Ska music seems to be the proverbial “whipping boy” of the counterculture music scene, but there is one vibe that ska is absolutely the best at capturing. Say what you will about the cheesy horns and even cheesier lyrics, ska provides the perfect soundtrack to when you’re in a race for your life with a rent-a-cop through a crowded shopping mall.

Don’t believe us? Just picture it. You and a couple friends are already in a fierce race with a rival rollerblading gang—who also love ska—and some bozo mall cop tries to step in and put a halt to all the zaniness. Not on your watch. And once those trumpets and upstrokes hit, you know that security guard will end up splashing around in the mall fountain while you blade away.

I guess you could outrun the mall Gestapo while playing punk or heavy metal, but to me, it just wouldn’t be the same. There’s no fun being chased to a song like “City Baby Attacked by Rats” or “Number of the Beast.” Where are the walking basslines? Where are the trombones? You need this happily bombastic, musical silly-string of a genre to successfully maintain innocence while also defying the law of the land.

So next time you or someone you know happens to be stuck in a situation where they are rollerblading in a mall that people still actually go to and a shithead mall cop tries to put a damper on your fun, just remember that the only proper way to escape the wrath of the bloated, tyrannical pseudo-gumshoe is to do it in style. The checkered, odd, geeky-yet-fun oriented style that comes with ska music.

We Caught up With the Forgotten Fifth Bar in Black Flag’s Logo

Posted on by Zachary Wolf

The Black Flag logo is one of punk’s most iconic images. It’s four simple bars that any drunk punk could quickly spray paint on a cop car. But behind those bars is a secret that not many people know. The original Black Flag logo featured five bars, not four.

After years of loose ends, sleepless nights, and ruined marriages, we finally tracked down the fifth bar. To protect its anonymity, let’s call it “Ricky.”

The Black Flag logo was created by Raymond Pettibone, a prolific graphic artist and brother of guitar player Greg Ginn. “Ricky” had collaborated with him on previous art installations, mostly as parts of letters with long straight pieces. Pettibone hired Ricky for the new logo, apparently, Ricky was never on board with the band’s iconography.

The Hard Times: Thanks for taking the time to talk with us. You’re not an easy bar to track down.
Ricky: No problem. No problem. It’s about time I tell my story.

Okay, so what exactly happened with you and the rest of the logo?
Back then you to be fucking hardcore to hang out with the ‘Flag, you know? I wasn’t about any of that weak shit, unlike bars two and four.

Was is that simple? Just a difference in lifestyle?
Hell yeah, brother. Lifestyle is everything in hardcore. What’d you think it was about, the music?Posers.

So what have you been doing since the split?
Same thing as always. Living real. I ain’t no theater kid who wants to jump around a stage playing rockstar. I’m real art.

Do you ever speak to any of the bars anymore?
I saw bar three a few years back. He’s in bad shape since they replaced him with some generic vector. Fuckin’ scab.

Thanks again for the time. Any plans for the future?
Hell yeah. Word has it that Bad Religion is looking to hire a new cross part of their logo, so you might not have seen the last of old Ricky after all!

Punk Clairvoyant Sees No Future

Posted on by Chris Bowen

RICHMOND, Va. — Local clairvoyant Brian Tilton allegedly possesses the ability to perceive one’s destiny but ultimately turns up seeing no future at all, multiple curious sources report.

“It seems as if every time I try to gaze into the future, I see none whatsoever because all evidence shows we are a damned species on a dying planet,” Tilton said before reiterating that he prefers to go by his professional name of Punk Rock Edgar Cayce. “As I peer into the vomit-filled toilet bowl of mystery, all of what I see is dire and bleak. It could be the fact that the current world climate is nothing but a cesspool of melancholy and despair that makes the future seem so shitty, or maybe it’s because I’m drunk right now and seeing doubles of everything and the room won’t stop spinning. Either way, I’ve been given this gift, and I aim to use it for the good of mankind.”

Rachel Reynolds sought out the services of Tilton in order to get some mystical insight into her future endeavors.

“I was at one of those psychic fairs at the Holiday Inn and that’s where I met Brian,” Reynolds explained. “I was feeling pretty good about my new job, new place, and new relationship, but that dude really made short work of that. Basically made me feel like shit about everything. He just kept singing ‘no future for you’ from that one Sex Pistols song over and over. I’m beginning to think he’s not a clairvoyant at all. I mean, I paid him 70 bucks for that bullshit! Thanks, douche.”

Local expert on prophets and seers John Rourke revealed that clairvoyants are often not who they make themselves out to be.

“Many alleged soothsayers of past and present haven’t actually predicted anything,” Rourke said in a clearly fake European accent. “A so-called seer by the name of Baba Venom claimed to be the world’s first heavy metal clairvoyant, but mostly just told you if you are or are going to be a poser based on what you were wearing at the time. Also, a clairvoyant who was really into ska was said to have foreseen the Less Than Jake song from that ‘Good Burger’ movie, but only made the prediction years after it came out. Last I checked, you can’t predict the past.”

At the time of press, Tilton was seen making the wildly accurate prediction that the girl you like won’t make it to your show.

Ska Band Roadie Sick of Having to Untangle All the Trombones Before Every Show

Posted on by Joe Rumrill

TULSA, Okla. — Local Hankerin’ For a Skankerin’ roadie Yancy Reynolds is reportedly sick and tired of constantly having to untangle the band’s jumbled trombones before each set, exasperated sources confirmed.

“I can’t believe I used to complain about having to untangle messes of cables. This is a thousand times harder. Why can’t they just put their trombones back neatly after they’re done?” said the long-suffering Reynolds. “The brass of the horn is so un-malleable, it takes me about two hours every night to separate them, and I can feel the crowd getting angry with me. It’s not my fault.”

Band members on the other hand had no plans to alter their post-show rituals, even if it would lead to streamlining the process.

“Look, I’m only one of nine trombonists in this band. If I’m expected to end my set and not just toss my ‘bone into a pile with the others, then the other eight are going to have to agree to that too. And those guys party even harder than me!” said Hankerin’ For a Skankerin’ trombone player Tabor Whitley. “The guy knew the job was dangerous when he took it. Try to find me a ska roadie that says they aren’t constantly untangling brass instruments I’ll show you a liar.”

Reynolds has reportedly taken his complaints to the top of the chain, sending his pleas to the Mayor of Ska Rudy “Rudeboy” Guiliskani.

“I have looked over the roadie’s appeal and let me state, for the record, that I am denying Mr. Reynolds’ motion to make Hankerin’ For a Skankerin’ a hornless band,” said Guiliskani. “I will see to it that something like that never, ever happens under my regime as Mayor of Ska. The notion has rocked me, and my community, to its core. So let it be known, if Mr. Reynolds sees a jumble of trombones lying on the dressing room floor before a show, he will have to do what we in the ska community have been doing for centuries. And that’s pick it up.”

At press time, Reynolds decided to quit the group entirely after hearing the band discussing adding 12 sousaphone players to fill out their sound.

Band Playing House Show Being Upstaged by Terrarium

Posted on by Joe Rumrill

WEST ORANGE, N.J. — Sullen members of stoner metal group Doom Daddies played to a nearly basement Friday, as the majority of the crowd went upstairs to gawk enthusiastically at the house’s sick terrarium, dispirited sources confirmed.

“It’s a pretty bad sign when the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ coming from people looking at a damn lizard or whatever are louder than three Orange amp stacks. Only three people watched our set, meanwhile the terrarium had a mosh pit going in front of it any time the salamander poked it’s head out,” said Doom Daddies drummer Cary Pomerantz. “And the worst part of it all is, by the time we had finished and gone upstairs to check it out, all the animals were hidden inside the little castles in there, asleep. We wanted to see too! Worst show we’ve ever played by a long shot.”

Attendees of the house show reported being so zealous for the reptile enclosure that most didn’t even know there was a band playing downstairs.

“Dude, we were so fuckin’ pumped on that terrarium. Skinks, geckos, chameleons, even a bunch of little anoles skittering around puffing out their neck dewlaps…everyone was going nuts for it. At one point, someone brought out a bag of crickets to feed them, and people were bouncing off the walls. It was really something special,” said showgoer Latoyah Philips. “I heard later that there was a band playing downstairs the whole time, but lucky for us, you couldn’t hear them too much. Best show I’ve ever gone to by a long shot.”

Professor of Herpetology Dr. Timothy Milsap says it’s no surprise that a crowd of people would flock toward a terrarium over a band.

“It’s a proven scientific fact that even the suggestion of possibly seeing a reptile in the flesh releases a flood of endorphins to the brain, equal to a full body massage. It’s little wonder why nobody wanted to watch the band. I mean, c’mon…there’s a terrarium!” said Kramer. “It’s no contest, and the human brain knows that. It’s just plain instinct.”

“The power of music is certainly a palpable thing,” Kramer added. “But it will always lose out to the power of gawking at an iguana.”

At press time, Doom Daddies decided to let bygones be bygones and join the terrarium on a three-week West Coast tour this winter as its opening act.

If Buying Booze for Underage Kids Is Wrong Why Am I Suddenly the Coolest Teacher in School?

Posted on by Doug Kolic

I’d like to start off this hearing by stating for the record that this is an absolute witch hunt. The faculty members and parents who’ve been complaining about my behavior are nothing more than a bunch of haters. Look, people. If buying booze for my students is so wrong, then why the hell am I suddenly the coolest teacher in school?!

If thinking outside the box gets our students excited to come to class, what’s the problem? Sure, some of them may be there strictly for the booze, but I made sure to give those students C’s so it’s all good. And so what if it’s technically illegal. I’ve got the lowest truancy rate in this school and, more importantly, these kids think I’m a legend. Nobody gets as many compliments slurred at them in the hallway as I do.

I didn’t become an educator because I care about things like math or science. I got into it after I watched “Dangerous Minds” and realized I could make a difference by wearing a leather jacket and doing sick martial arts. Michelle Pfeiffer became a hero in that movie for bribing her students with candy bars and amusement parks and I did the same thing only with peach schnapps and vodka. Yet Pfeiffer won a Blockbuster Entertainment Award, yet the only thing I’m being asked to accept right now is loss of employment and possible jail time.

What, you want me to be like all these other boring, loser teachers at this school? You ever see Mr. Johnson get hoisted up on his students’ shoulders in celebration? Sure, those drunk teenagers stumbled and dropped me pretty hard, but fortunately I was blacked out so it didn’t hurt until the next day.

We owe it to our students to try new methods to get through to them. And if those methods involve a classroom kegger every now and then, who are you to judge? Your honor.

Tour Bus Driver Still Picking Up Morning Commuters Out of Habit

Posted on by Joe Rumrill

PORTLAND, Ore. — The recently hired tour bus driver for indie darlings Cobwebs continued to consistently pick up local commuters out of sheer habit, frustrated sources confirmed.

“Look, I’ve been driving city buses for 30 some-odd years, and only been driving this tour bus for a couple weeks. Making the stops on my route is practically second nature to me. It’s gonna be tough to kick a habit that ingrained in me,” said bus driver Gene Drexel. “I see people waiting at the bus stop, so I pull over and let them on, that’s the life I know. I know the kids in the band wanted to tell me to quit it, but they were too respectful of the ‘Do Not Bother Bus Driver While In Motion’ sign.”

Band members were concerned at first, but have since eased up on their opinion of Drexel’s frequent stopping.

“Sure it’s a little crowded now, and I have to give up my seat to anyone pregnant, but it’s honestly livened up tour quite a bit! Now we look forward to Gene’s stops and can’t wait to see who gets on our bus,” said Cobwebs rhythm guitarist Corinne Gails. “Meeting new people is one of the best parts about taking the band on the road, and at the rate Gene’s going, we’re meeting a new person every other block. Even more at rush hour.”

New York businessman Blaine Applegate was glad for the free ride to work, but lamented that it would be weeks before he got there.

“It’s nice to get to know everyone on this journey, and I’m admittedly a fan of music, but the simple fact remains: I’m now 216 hours late for my morning meeting in Midtown Manhattan,” said Applegate, while looking at his watch. “And keep in mind, I’ve been wearing the same suit that entire time. I guess that’s life on the road, but usually one chooses that particular life, rather than having it thrust upon them.”

“I’ll tell you one thing though,” Applegate added. “I’m not lugging any more amps. I don’t ask them to file my spreadsheets, so I don’t see why I have to drag speaker cabs across parking lots just because I was trying to get to work on time.”

At press time, Cobwebs were dismayed to find out that Drexel would cause them to miss their San Francisco, Oakland, and L.A. shows due to the bus suddenly going express from Portland to San Diego.

Punk Promises to Attend Friend’s Next Wedding

Posted on by Patrick Crooks

STOCKTON, Calif. — Local punk Brian Hammond assured longtime friend Chris Wilson that although he could not attend his upcoming wedding, he would be sure to catch the next one, sources close to the two reported.

“Listen, no one loves them more than I do—hand to god. It’s just this weekend was the worst possible date he could’ve picked,” said Hammond. “Look, I wish the two of them well and all, it’s just that Chris has found his soulmate more than a few times before, so I’m sure this ‘once in a lifetime’ event, as he describes it, will occur again. Besides, I gotta work a double at the Vault this weekend, he knew that. He should really consider his friends’ personal schedules before setting a date for a wedding. How incredibly selfish.”

Wilson, for his part, was disappointed that Hammond could not make it but was confused by the phrasing of the invite decline.

“Not that I give a flying fuck, but just what the hell does he mean by the next one?” asked the exasperated groom-to-be. “I mean, he’s been around me and Haley before, so I don’t know why Mr. High and Mighty assumes I’ll be getting married again. I mean, sure, this is my third wedding in as many years, but things are different this time. I actually enjoy being around this one this time, and that’s why I asked her to marry me after only six months of dating.”

Relationship experts noted that these flippant interactions towards life-changing moments were nothing new.

“These boys are just going through the time-honored ‘bros before hoes’ paradox like most male friendships eventually do, and some can’t really be bothered by events that don’t involve them specifically,” noted relationship expert Dr. Ruth Westheimer. “These two are probably used to spending most of their time together and now that one is diverting their attention elsewhere, the insecurity causes them to lash out on the fear or loneliness or jealousy that their ‘boy’ so to speak has an easier time getting laid than they do. The phrase ‘Friday is for the boys’ is based in reality.”

As of press time, Hammond revealed he couldn’t attend Wilson’s stepdad’s funeral but would definitely try to make the next one.

Review: Killing Joke “Hosannas From the Basements of Hell”

Posted on by Joe Rumrill

Each week The Hard Times looks back on a notable album from punk history. This week we took a look at Killing Joke’s 2006 aural sledgehammer “Hosannas From the Basements of Hell”…(sigh) but unfortunately, that’s not all we’re reviewing today.

I suppose I should come clean at the beginning of this review that, in an effort to supplement my (already supplemental) income from the Hard Times, I’ve taken on another review assignment from lawncare blog The Yard Times to give my thoughts on the “Duke #16 Offset Bear Trap” on the same deadline. It really shouldn’t matter, as the two reviews shouldn’t get in the way of one another, but I just thought I’d mention it in the spirit of full disclosure. Anyway- Let’s rock!

“Lift up your spirits!” Jaz Coleman triumphantly bellows to kick off KJ’s twelfth studio alb-aaaaaand I’ve stepped in the beartrap. Ow ow OWWWWWWW…Ok ok, uh… Drat, uh, oh gosh that really REALLY smarts. Dear LORD the gip on the pain is, god, it’s tremendous. Um, not unlike the tremendous 27-year history the band had experienced up to Hosanna’s release. Speaking of: Hooooooooooo-SANNA, my leg really hurts.

Oh, and um, the next song rips too. Title track, I believe…gah, my vision is getting blurry…Uh, yeah so, it rips, like I said. Almost exactly like an ankle bone might rip from beneath one’s skin…aaaaHHHHHHHH I looked at it. I shouldn’t have looked at it. Ok, moving on.

Alright, difficult for me to tell how the next few songs are because, in a brutal twist of irony, a bear lumbered into my yard and swiped my earbuds. The bear seemed to be bobbing its head in a vaguely head-banging fashion, though so I suppose that indicates it’s still kicking ass. I was honestly more preoccupied with debating whether I should start gnawing my foot off, to free myself. I attempted a couple times, but winced and chickened out. It seemed to amuse the bear though. Anyone else getting woozy?

Anyhow, after that everything went pretty hazy and I woke up a couple days later lying in a heap in my backyard, with my neighbor yelling “Holy Moses, is that a bear trap?” from over the fence.

“Buddy,” I mustered feebly “this here’s the Duke #16…it’s THE bear trap.”

Score: Unconfirmed, as we couldn’t reach the bear for comment. He listened to most of it. (But I’m not sharing the $30)

/**/

5 Other Mary Shelley Stories About Reanimated Corpses That Make It Pretty Clear the Shelley’s Marriage Was Failing

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

Mary Shelley is one of the most well-known authors in history due to a little book called “Frankenstein,” the classic tale of a scientist who accidentally creates a monster whose primary goal is to acquire a mate at any cost, even murder. But few modern scholars know that Frankenstein was just the first of a number of stories about corpses animated through heretical science that strongly indicates Mary Shelley’s marriage was on the rocks.

A few others of the many stories Mary Shelley wrote that could be used as legal grounds for divorce include:

Bodasius; or, The Modern Unemployed Slob
This 1819 novella covers many of the same themes of Frankenstein, though here the creator is named “Professor Bodasius” and his monster spends a lot of time sitting on a couch eating a 19th-century snack similar to Cheetos and talking about how he was going to write some poems any day now.

The Lonely Soul Only Wants to Talk About His Dead Friend, Bord Lyron
In this dark tale, an unsuccessful and very short poet is brought back from the land of the dead by his beautiful, talented bride, only to spend the entire time talking about his cool buddy, Bord Lyron, and how they should all go on another vacation together. Or maybe just the poet and his friend, if that’s cool.

The Last Man; or I Married a Fucking Loser
An early example of the post-apocalyptic genre, “The Last Man” is an epistolary novel composed of the diary entries of the wife of the last surviving male in the world who claims that, after an unexplained global catastrophe, he can’t get a job because of “all the reanimated corpses taking the poet positions.”

An Electrical Monstrosity of Pleasure in the Bedroom
For two centuries, critics have been unsure how to classify this work, which appears to be a stream-of-consciousness poem in which a brilliant woman devises a way to revitalize a very specific male body part and then runs away with it, leaving her husband behind forever.

Fuck My Husband, Who Is Made of Corpses
Perhaps Mary Shelley’s most controversial work, in part because the author seems to have forgotten halfway through the book to use pseudonyms and just wrote, “Fuck that guy Percy” for a few hundred pages.

Stay Updated on The Latest Punk News

Get the latest punk news delivered straight to your inbox

We'll store and process this information to provide you our products and services. You may opt out of this at any time.