10 March 2006


The first time I saw DOA they were the support act for the Ramones one of the times duh bruddas visited Dope City. Their half hour set was enough to let me know Joe Shithead was no pencil neck geek, Randy could jump pretty high for a drunk fucker and that Chuckie B. could pound a simple drum kit like Keith Moon.

Next time they scheduled a gig it was an all ages affair not too far from my haunted punk rock apartment in Fort Royal. Ted from England was visiting and all he could talk about was Sid Vicious. I told Ted DOA were like three Sid Viciouses with hockey sticks so he was game to check them out.

Me and the boys and Ted were all long hair redneck fucked up motherfuckers of the first degree at the time and we did not fit in visually with Dope City's already identifiable young punk community. Stubby, who played for a short time with DOA and for a longer time with the Dope City Disaster known as The Rabid, took it upon himself to see if we were going to be trouble that night. When he realized Ted was a big Sid Vicious fan and me and the rest of the old Sliverville crew were '70s rejects just like him before he cut his hair we had a friend for life. Too bad Stubby's life would be cut so short.

Stubby asked, "Where you fuckers from?"

We answered, "Sliverville."

Stubby stepped back a bit. "I should have guessed by the green mac jackets. I thought everybody from Sliverville were redneck fucked up motherfuckers like Bill van der Vanker."

"Don't call us no van der Vanker."

Van der Vanker, perhaps the most affable fascist in Canadian history, would go on to become Premier of British Columbia. We knew him from before he learned English, when he was mayor of Sliverville. Not being handy with English is a prequisite for becoming mayor of Sliverville. And being a fascist sure gave you a leg up on the competition.

Like most all ages shows I guess there were three or four bands that may have played. Fuck if I can remember. I do remember Phil Smith's band with Pebbles on bass played. We tied up their shoe laces together as they tried to entertain us. We all got hard looking up Pebbles' slender pale legs. They were no Nazareth but their song with the line, "No more pain/There's a wire in my brain," was to become an often chanted call of the wild on future camping trips and other excuses to get drunk and turn the music up loud enough to attract a visit from the police or the park ranger.

When DOA got into their set I was hooked for life. These guys were obviously one of the best punk outfits any place in 1979. Joe had a bad cold and he was blowing snot all over the fucking place. Several times during their show snot hung like thick green rope between his nose and the neck of his guitar. The guy was more of a trooper than the guys from Trooper. And when I heard the description of what disco sucks like, "Like shit, like shit, like a steaming fucking hunk of shit," I knew just what Joe was singing about: Disco sucks like the government, man.

It was a good Canadian experience for Ted. One to be followed up on the next weekend when he got to see two junior hockey teams set the record for most penalty minutes in a game ever. The American team bus had to be escorted to the border. That's Canada for you.

There was no light show, strobe lights, smoke pots or fog machines or any of the other crap too many bands rely on to trick you into thinking you are rocking like a hurricane at the DOA show. Just guitar, bass, drums and some asshole hollering into a microphone about smashing the state and 2+2.

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