DVD Documentary Review: In Heaven There is No Beer: The Kiss or Kill Music Scene

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

In Heaven There is No Beer

Directed by Dave Palamaro
No Money Enterprises / MVD Visual / Modern Distributors
89 minutes / 2013
www.moderndistrib.com
www.mvdvisual.com

Of course, every music scene has its own subscene, based around specific clubs or groups. For example, during the early 2000s, there was the Brooklyn-locus Punk Temple collective. From 2003-2007, Los Angeles had the Kiss or Kill scene, which is the focus on this documentary. Many variant settings have common overlaps, so just be warned I will be using a comparative analysis as well as an individual one.

Kiss or Kill is the name of an organization that gave a place for a scene to foster and grow. It’s also a collective of supportive bands that played once a week on a Tuesday work night (to assure fewer adults in attendance?). The story goes that the members of two bands, Cooper of Bang Sugar Bang and Johnny 99 of Silver Needle were tired of – and rightfully so – the whole “Pay and Play” scheme of many music venues (it swept New York, as well, before all the clubs moved to Brooklyn), as well as the elitist attitude of some of the audiences, such as those in Sliverlake. Now, I remember when Eddie and the Hotrods played Max’s Kansas City in 1977 or ’78, they complained about the audience being like that by us not dancing – not that there was any place to dance at Max’s).

Here is a bit of interjection and presumption on my part: as with everywhere else, there are so many bands that trying to find a known club to let you play is a tiresome game of calls and trying to fit on bills. In part, that’s why the evil Pay and Play works, because bands are desperate for a space to play, and will do so even if PandP is involved (any mic is a Marshall, you might say). Around the time as the origins of Kiss or Kill (KoK), bands starting taking matters in their own hands, and putting on their own showcases. In the mid-2000, the showcases put on by Brooklyn band The Nerve! at Peggy O’Neill’s in Coney Island, for example, worked in very similar ways to KoK: find a place that would house you that has a stage, and you put on your own shows. My presumption is that while KoK had its heart in the right place, it was also a means for Bang Sugar Bang and Silver Needle to play often, as well as getting their friends onstage. Perhaps that it why it stung so bad when BSB were not the first band out of KoK signed? I’m speculating

Starting out in a stripped down bar that used to be a bowling alley called Mr. T’s Bowl in Highland Park, KoK was eventually closed down due to overcrowding and fire hazards. It is almost exactly what happened to the Punk Temple in Brooklyn, a rented out basement of an old Bensonhurst neighborhood synagogue; it would be torn down a few months later after not meeting safety codes following neighborhood complaints. I bring this up because most scenes follow a similar pattern.

As always, in any scene, there are the regulars, here self-given the name of The Punters – at first not knowing that it originally was meant as an insult in the British punk scene, and then not caring, much like the designation of punk.  Many of the KoK crowd are interviewed here, such as Mike TV who booked the shows, Front Stage Joe who would go on to front the punk rap Pu$$y Cow (their spelling), along with members of other bands such as the Muffs who attended regularly.

After Mr. T’s Bowl, the scene changed from larger to larger venues, due to need thanks to local, national, and international media (referred to here as “the vultures”) bringing in more people, including one place in the dreaded Silverlake area, before eventually ending up at a club on the Sunset Strip, becoming what they started against. CBGB’s had the same problem, in my opinion. When we started going there in the mid-70s, nobody wore brands (with the possible exception of Ked's Sneakers and Levi pants; hey ho, good enough for the Ramones, good enough for us). Then, after Duff of Guns ‘n Roses wore a CBGB’s tee to the Grammys, suddenly it became cool, and then CBGB’s itself became a brand, which is why I will never wear one. New York Scene icon Gyda Gash told me that when Hilly would give her a tee-shirt, she’d go home and take a black marker to it to cover it (I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s a great story). But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

To become a KoK band, there were rules to follow, all good and one of which I agree with wholeheartedly: if you play a gig – either in support or headlining – you stick around and watch the other bands. This has always been a pet peeve of mine, when bands would play and then leave (unless for a great reason, like needing to get on the road to the next gig, or to fly ahead to wash your socks in Iowa). Note that being strait-edge was certainly not one of the rules.

One of the aspects of what I liked about the KoK scene, and it is discussed briefly, is that it was “girl friendly” (as a female fan states). Lots of women in their bands, lots in the audience. That’s really the way it should be; same with LGBTQ(etc.). In the Punk Temple scene, guys did outnumber gals by 60% onstage, and were given a lot of respect. There were also many females in the audience, especially right up front, though not many in the pit. However, there were definitely some misogynist/sexist comments about female regulars on the BBS for the Temple, which I didn’t understand (e.g., the reference to “coatracks”). I had thought we were beyond that. It is not mentioned in this film, but while you do see stagediving, you don’t really see much of a mosh area.

The first 50 minutes or so of the documentary is about the rise of KoK, and then, very subtly, we start to see the unravelling as the two top bands begin a rivalry over ego and stubbornness, after one, the Dollyrots (one wears a Rattlers tee in a PR shot!) gets signed. This signing also leads to more press, more crowds, and a thinning of the herd as other bands get deals and move on to more established venues and tours, or break up (or both).

Eventually, as tends to happen in scenes, people get disenfranchised as the cohesion of the “family” gets replaced by the needs of the venue (the Sunset Strip club, in this case; overselling tickets in the case of the Punk Temple; the break-up of The Nerve! as the lead singer strikes out as a solo singer-songwriter). While most scenes eventually crash and burn (as a quote by Kurt Cobain states at the film’s opening), one person from the band The Knives correctly points out that at least KoK didn’t break apart because of drugs or violence, as most do. Much like the Bowery in New York, the KoK was killed by its own success.

Sorry, one more quick, random comparison: Just like in the KoK collective, there was also a great band in Brooklyn called Midway that played the Temple. I digress…

And how is this as a documentary? Well, there are some cliché’s, such as having title cards between each segment, talking heads interviewed mostly individually and then all mashed together, and a mix of talk and live music. Okay, that being said, this was really a well-made mixture of oral and visual history. There is a lot of music here, gratefully, and the fact that nearly all the major principles, from band members to organizers to fans, give a very cohesive storyline that’s easy to follow. A nitpick is that some of the text that tells you who is talking comes and goes a bit too fast, but at least they’re shown often, rather than just once (thank you).

The sheer volume of music played – 140 songs, though never a complete one – gives a good impression of what made the scene so special. There are tons of still photos of, well, everything and everyone involved, and the viewer gets to know them a little bit, which of course elevates it to more than just talking heads. It’s all put together very well.

Lots of extras here, as if the film didn’t give enough, but I’m grateful! There are four extended Deleted Scenes (10:43) that is totally worth watching unlike so many other documentaries; complete Live Performances by Bang Sugar Bang, Midway, The Waking Hours, and The Dollyrots (13:43); a Photo Gallery of stills narrated with a commentary about the whole process that delivered this documentary by director Palamaro (2:44); and four related trailers, including the one below and a filmed radio interview with Palamaro (6:09); and images of Palamaro’s handwritten production notes (0.54, but you can still frame).

It’s said every scene is worthwhile. KoK did a lot of good and arguably changed the way music business was done in Los Angeles. That’s impressive. So is this documentary.

 

I’m On the List

Text and image by © Robert Barry Francos

Did you hear about the poseur punk? He paid to get in.

That’s an old joke from the ‘70s. While I’ve paid for more shows over the years than have been on the guest list, I have also had the honor of having my name at the door quite a few times.

I don’t really remember the first time I made the list for my work on my fanzine (1977-88), but most likely it was either at CBGB (RIP) or Max’s Kansas City (RIP). However, making the list itself could have come earlier, in 1976, while I was Arts Editor of my college paper and had the opportunity to see a number of shows for free, such as Sparks and Mott at Avery Fischer Hall, or Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers at both CBGB and the Bottom Line (RIP).

Actually, there are different levels to the list. The primo is considered the backstage pass at a bigger show, which usually results in a laminated card that is either hung around the neck or clipped to your clothes. As I mostly review independent artists (I’m still proud to say I turned down a chance to interview Duran Duran during their heyday because, well, who cares), the odds of the pass being that sophisticated is unlikely. In fact, the only laminated pass I have ever received, as far as I can remember, was to see the revived New York Dolls play a private concert at the now defunct Tower Records on lower Broadway, in 2006. Admittedly, I had nothing to do with it really: my pal’s son, Ben Kugel, used his influence to wrangle a pass for himself plus one, which ended up being a very fortunate “Uncle Robert.” We even got to hang out a bit with the band after the show.

When going for a guest list at the level to which I am used to, there is no fancy memento, even for some of the relatively bigger names. The end result is usually my name handwritten on a sheet of paper at the front door, hopefully with a “+1” following it. Now, it is always a gamble that you’ll get down there, and either you were forgotten, the band isn’t there yet with the list, the management suppresses the list because it’s that much less money for them if you get in free, or you were lied to because it’s easier to say yes and then ignore it after than confront a requester. If this occurs (and it has happened to me a number of times) you’re standing there saying “I’m on [band name]’s list,” only to find them responding, “No, nothing here.” In fact, this is so common that when I went to see D.O.A. at Amigos in Saskatoon, I brought along a printout of the email from the record company, Sudden Death, saying that if there was any problems at the door, to have them “find Joey” [Keithley], the band’s frontman. Occasionally, the door person will believe you anyway and let you in, but that is exceptionally rare, even for the smaller venues.

And just what does one do in that situation? Do you say screw it and pay anyway, or do you say screw it and walk away? Well, for me, it depends on a formula based on the factors of who is playing, how much is the cover charge, and how much cash do I have in my pocket. Since I’ve been to Saskatoon, I’ve been pretty lucky, and every time I’ve been on the list, my name was there. But more on that in a sec.

Back in Brooklyn, when I learned about a club called the Punk Temple (RIP) in my own Bensonhurst neighborhood (held in a Synagogue basement) in 2002, I contacted the guys who ran the place via email and asked them to put me on the list in exchange for photos that I would give to them and the bands. The answer was solidly no, because there were people already taking pictures. Yeah, I thought, teenagers with little to no experience on cheap digi cameras (I still used film then). So, I went anyway, gave my $8, and handed in the pix in anyway. That was the last time I paid at the Temple.

I got there early for the Temple shows (something I still like to do) and started hanging out with the guys who ran the place, making myself known to them and the bands, many of whom invited me to other gigs elsewhere. And when the fans formed bands, they in turn asked me to come. Honestly, I don’t think I paid for a single show from 2002 until 2009. Somewhere towards the end of the Punk Temple heyday, around 2004, I was in the space waiting for the show to start. While the mean age was probably 19-20, I was in my mid-40s. Some pimple-faced smartass approached me and asked, “What are you doing here, you fuckin’ old man?” Unperturbed, I responded by asking to see his wrist. After some “Wha?” from him, he showed me his stamp. “See that stamp?” He affirmed in a “What about it?” I continued, “See the stamp on the hands of everyone here? See the stamps on the band setting up?” He was getting angry(ier) and wanted to know my point (though he stated it in different words). I held up my clean hand: “Do you see any stamp on mine? No? That’s because I can walk in and out of this place any time I want. Can you?” At that moment, members of two different bands came over to me. “Robert! So glad you could make it,” giving me that man hug/back pat. I looked over at the kid, and he could only shrug his shoulders and walk away.

Yes, I like being on the list. The show could be for $50 or 50¢, it doesn’t matter. It’s sort of like the old First Nations’ “coup” (a bloodless game of war where you won by touching the opponent). But for me, no matter how I joke about this, it’s not something to be taken lightly, ever. When I’m on the list, for whatever the price of the ticket, for me it’s a contract that I intend to honor. I have never thought, “I’m not in the mood for the show; I’ll just blow it off because I didn’t pay for the ticket.” No, it’s a sacred bond; a promise on my part.

I’m not a musician, though I’ve tried both the guitar and bass. I’m untalented musically since I cannot remember chord streams and I have absolutely no sense of rhythm when it comes to actually playing. However, I still want to give to the scene, so what I do is a write and I photograph, making the photos accessible to the bands. This is how I contribute. Whenever I have been put on a list, I have reciprocated through documenting the show through reviews and/or photographs (lately, mostly on this blog). The bands can then use my thoughts and images for their own publicity. See, when I don’t pay cash to see a show, I still give my time, my mind, and my art in exchange, so it remains two-sided.

Since being in Saskatoon, I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Johnny Winter, D.O.A., the Saskatoon Reggae and World Music Festival (including Jah Cutta), the Oral Fuentes Band, and Absofunkenlutely [AFL], while being on the entrance list. For the last three, it was pretty easy because I’m friendly with Oral, who is my neighbor, and through him met Randy Woods, leader of AFL; Oral also runs the Reggae Fest. Even with the personal connection, I have contributed solidly through photo and review.

With Winter and D.O.A., well, I asked their management or record company through emails. I had reviewed a bunch of Winter’s material previously, such as one DVD collection of his performances from the 1980s, and another of his shows in Germany from 1979. The management was uncertain about letting me in, I could tell, but after I published the review, they were quite happy and informed me they would let me know when any of their other artists hit town. For D.O.A., well, I’m sure Joey knows about my fanzine from the ‘70s-‘80s, which may have given me some extra credibility, and I’m hoping they liked the review and photos that are two blogs back from this one (see the list on the right).

Most of the time when I ask, especially with larger touring acts such Simon & Garfunkel or Roger Daltry who were to play in town (both cancelled), odds are I won’t hear anything back but the tumbleweeds, but it never hurts to ask. As S&G may have said, this is my blog for the asking, if you will.

That being said, do I consider myself a freebie whore? No, because part of the deal on my part is that I will be honest. If there is some act I see and don’t like, I was say so. I don’t whitewash just for a name at the door. When I agree to see a show, my end of the bargain includes my true opinion. I have had bands mad at me for saying they sounded out of tune, or were boring. Without honesty, there is no credibility. I am not merely a human press release, so it is a gamble for the band because of my sense to truthfulness, but it’s also one for me because the show may be, well, crap. Fortunately, most of the time, I have not been disappointed, and have had a blast.

So, you acts out there who are either in town or on tour coming this way, let me know, and if I say yes, I will be there, with camera and notepad in hand. But please, don’t forget to put me on the list (plus one).

Punk Temple Faces, Pt 2: May 3, 2003

Photos and text (c) Robert Barry Francos

This, the Punk Temple, of Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, was a very loyal scene, supported by a group of kids who went to see shows, no matter who was playing. For this, the got to see the lows (such as Pop Star Kids) to the highs (so many...Miracle of 86 [with Kevin Devine], Monty Love, The Nerve!, and TreePhort, and some unknown bands, like the Plain White T's). Brooklyn was represented with bands local like the Inhuman and Dreams Forever Drowning, but there was also some national touring bands from the whole East Coast that would play.

Because of this support, you may likely see some of the same faces come up again and again.

Onstage with Army of Me

The Crew

Unimpressed by the Pop Star Kids

Moshin' to Casey Scores a Goal

Some Punk Temple scene vets

Producer of cable access show Videowave, Alan Abramowitz, checks out the scene

The next few are taken during one of the scene's much-loved bands, The Nerve!

Divin' to the song "Ass Plastic"

Turned on by the band

Tony SQNS (pronouced "sickness") and Liel getting so excited...

...that Tony needs to fly!

Punk Temple Faces, Pt 1: May 3, 2003

Text and photos (c) Robert Barry Francos

Those who read this know that I was a frequent flyer at the Punk Temple, the best (even if only) punk club that was not only in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, but in a Synagogue basement (and yes, they had shows on Saturday nights, which always confused me).

While it was great seeing all the bands that played there, and there were a multitude of amazing shows thanks to the great guys that ran it, one of the enjoyment of going there was to see the audience, who were enthused about what they were hearing and seeing.

Yes, I enjoy taking pictures of the bands, but the show includes the fans, and I've always tried to capture the moment of the whole show, on stage and off. Here is a one-day view of some of the action. The date was May 3, 2008, if you haven't guessed that already. Captions are before the photos; note that not all these bands exist anymore, but I listed them as they were then. Hopefully, this will be the first of a series of 2003 shows. I went to more shows than in 2003, but this is the year I had them scanned (pre-digital). Enjoy!

Waiting for Tracer's set to begin

Yes, Stray 76 has lots of male fans, too

Eva and Ilya

Surfing while At A Loss plays

They asked me to take their picture

Diver during At a Loss not sure what do to when the song breaks

Moshing during Friendly Fire

Getting a "kick" out of Friendly Fire (yeah, I know, too easy)


Just after the guy in front got his tooth chipped when he got pushed by moshers and his face slammed the stage during Friendly Fire


Waiting for 5 Cent Deposit to start their set


This gaggle of girls were the most consistent to attend shows at the Temple


Vonny standing her ground and saying, "No!" to potential diver while 5 Cent Deposit play on


Surfin' to 5 Cent Deposit

I'm Old, So What?: Aging in a punk rock world

Photos from various sources, as noted

Photo from Vonny Website

Vonny has a tattoo that swirls her ankle, which comes from a quote by the band Monty Love: “Being Young is only in your head.” She is a scene veteran, and is 19 years old.

I was just barely 20 years the first time I stepped into CBGB’s and saw Talking Heads (their first performance) opening for the Ramones, along with a dozen others in the audience. Since then I’ve lived through underground, punk, new wave, no wave, the garage revival, emo, techno, new romantics, superpop, grunge, hair metal, and multitudes more – both ones I liked and didn’t – than I can remember offhand. And now I’m 53 years old.

The first time I went into the Punk Temple in Brooklyn, 5 years ago or so, I first saw Vonny with her friends, and this was not her first show. I was older than just about anyone else by 20 years or so. I felt a little out of place. Many shows in the city had people closer to my age group, but not at this all-ages venue. When I went back a couple of weeks later to see the bands, after the show someone stopped me on the way to the exit as I passed them and said, with good wishes, “Hey, it’s great you stayed for the whole show!” What I said back, equally kindly, was “Well, odds are I’m going to see more shows this year than you will see in your whole life.” Then I left the premises.

But what he said, along with my feeling the age difference, stuck with me. That night I joined the Temple’s BBS. I started out saying something like, “You may have seen this older guy with a beard taking pix, and wondering why is this guy here? Well, let me tell you…” Then I bullet-pointed about 2 dozen things I’ve done (e.g., my fanzine), band’s I’ve seen, people I’ve interviewed, people I’ve hung out with, and those I’ve met. I ended with, “Please, if you read this and see me, come by and say hello.” And they did. Amazingly enough, pretty soon I was talking to more people under the age of 20 than I did when I was that age. As these people either formed bands or kept going to shows, I still see them, and it’s always pleasant.

Miracle of 86, 2003, by RBF

One life-changing moment at the Temple along this topic is when I went to see Kevin Devine’s group, Miracle of 86. There was an older man taking pictures of Kevin and assumed it was his dad, as this was quite common there. I took a snap of him, and send it along to Kevin. He wrote back saying, “Why did you send me a picture of Jim Testa?” Immediately, I got in touch with Jim, as I’ve always enjoyed his mag Jersey Beat, and he knew my fanzine FFanzeen, but we had never met. He emailed me back after I sent him the picture and how I thought he was Kevn’s father (not sure how he would take it), and he LOL’d, explaining that he saw me taking pictures, and figured I was another band member’s dad. Before long, I was writing for Jersey Beat, and soon after had my own column, “The Quiet Corner” (www.jerseybeat/quietcorner.html).

Being young may be in one’s head, but I don’t physically feel young anymore. I tire more easily, get grumpy (see my blog below on cell phones), and if I see a listing where a band starts playing at midnight, well, I hesitate. There was a time when I would go to a club like CBGB’s while it was still daylight, leave at sunrise, stop off at White Castle for breakfast of 6 cheeseburgers, shower, get dressed, and then either go to work or school. I would love to have “young” go from my head to my body, but not only isn’t it going to happen, I’m okay with it.

Mind you, even when I was young, I was a bit physically limited, thanks to the onset of arthritis at 19 (same kind as Mötley Crüe guitarist Mick Mars), which gives me my wonderful posture. But even then, I had high energy.

Johnny Thunders, ~1984, by RBF

I have to add, most strongly, I am not sorry to be this age, having seen the nascent Ramones, the Heartbreakers with both Johnny Thunders AND Richard Hell, the original line-up of the Runaways…so much good music first-hand. If I were young, I would have missed all that. And other reasons, such as the event below:

I had a friend in my late 20s who was the same age as me, and was repeatedly going on with “I wish I was young again.” It was a steady theme. One day I said to her, “You realize that if you were a kid, you’d have to go through High School again, too.” That was the last she brought it up.

It’s really is okay being older. I looked at my gray streaks one day and realized that there are so many others I’ve known in my life who will never get to see their own hair change. In fact, the only time in my life when I ever had an issue was about 15 minutes before I turned 20, when I realized I would not be a teenager anymore. And about a minute after my birth time (12:10 AM), I was over it. In fact, I’ve often thought it would be cool to be 5 days older, so my birthday would be 5/5/55.

Looking forwards doesn’t scare me much, it’s more the looking back that I find shuddering sometimes. One example of this is when I was reading a book, can’t remember which, and the author commented that more time had passed when he wrote the book since the break-up of the Sex Pistols than from the advent of rock’n’roll (1955, in his example) until the Pistols ended. Yikes. And as mind-boggling as all this rearview mirror looking (as Marshall McLuhan famously called it) feels, I’m still not afraid.

One last thought about going or not going gently into that good night, I am reminded of a song written by Jim Testa, as fine a musician and songwriter as he is a publisher. In it he comments that it sucks turning 50. However, he whistfully adds at the end, it beats the alternative.

Memories of the Punk Temple

All FFotos by Robert Barry Francos Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, has a history that’s checkered. It’s best known as the home of the Kramdens, Son of Sam’s last killing, the locale for Saturday Night Fever, and the shooting of Yusef Hawkins (and subsequent marches by Al Sharpton). Jordan, Sid, Loni at Punk Temple entrance But during the late ‘90s and early 00’s, deep from the heart and basement of a local synagogue, a voice had risen up. The proclamation of DIY music came from what was known as the Punk Temple, a non-profit venue that showcased both local and national punk, rock, and ska shows. All money at the door went to rent the room; the cost of the show, and the rest went to the groups who played. Bands varied from the local borough or Staten Island scenes, such as Miracle of 86 (Kevin Devine), Monty Love, The Nerve!, 5 Cent Deposit, Inhuman, Up For Nothing, Clearview 77, and those who were then on the rise from around the country, like Plain White T’s, Treephort, BigWig, and Blind Luck Music. All were welcome by the enthusiastic, all-ages crowd. Breaking bands from other parts of the country seem both surprised and happy to see the audience singing along with the songs of the group’s indie releases, and sometimes even physically with the band as spectators were known to jump on stage and share a mic or two. And the groups loved it. It was a tight and growing scene with open arms for new music. It was a common sight to see the audience showing off newly purchased CDs of the bands playing, purchased at the street team table at the venue ballroom. Will Noon, of the now gone Philadelphia band Breaking Pangaea, stated at the time, “The kids that come to the Punk Temple are young and enthusiastic. And the crowd is pretty diverse. We've had a great experience with it, and look forward to playing there again.” The Punk Temple was started in December 1998, by ex-Friendly Fire vocalist, Jordan Cooper, and played well over 100 shows. Jordan booked the local bands, counted the change, was Webmaster, and was the overall kommander of operations. Skanking up the joint Starting out by being a dj of punk music while attending Kings-borough Community College in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, Jordan found out how hard it was to get bands booked through his own band experience. Eventually, through connections, he started the Punk Temple. At first he was losing money, as much as $600 per show. Loni and Sid, who often attended shows, decided to help out, eventually becoming part of the core six-member Temple crew. Loni Berman booked and coordinated national bands. “With me handling booking agents, Jordan handling local bands, and Sid doing some occasional booking, we were really clicking,” says Loni. “Everyone knew their tasks. It took a while, but once we got into a groove, it got a lot easier. The average attendance of 60 grew to an average of 100. We generally pulled in about 200 kids per show, no matter who played.” Will Noon posited, “Loni is a great guy. It’s really great when you come across someone who's doing things for all the right reasons. He cares about the kids and the bands, and wants to make sure everyone is safe and has a great time.” Loni also handled the nascent label, Temple Recordings (a joint venture with Blackout Records). One of their releases was by Friendly Fire, and they were to have a compilation album of bands playing the Temple coming out. What happened to this is unknown to me. At the time, Loni’s “day job” was then Manager of A&R at Artemis Records. Temple heartthrob Chris King, of 5 Cent Deposit and Stray 76 Sid Kaptsenel ran the door, collecting the entrance fee (usually $8). He also set up the stage before the bands arrived, and handled the flyers for upcoming shows. Sid said to me in 2002, “Me and Loni decided that we should offer our help to Jordan to make sure the Temple stayed alive. Shockingly, he accepted, and there we have it. The shows have gotten better and better, bigger and bigger, and way more frequent. Things are great right now. Our basic philosophy is that we want to give kids of all ages a safe place to go to see shows, and get into good music. “ Jay Miller, also known as Monty Love, handled the stage during the shows, setting up the mics and checking the speakers. He was in charge of the area of promoting, and dealt with the newer, local bands, which worked out well since he could give them a sympathetic ear: He led his own group of joyful punkers, Monty Love (one of my favorite bands of that and just after period). And speaking of Templers who helped with the stage and had their own band, Mike Cherchid worked the soundboard, helping with the stage sound, and drummed for the band Stray 76. He would later open a club called Third Rail where metal club L’Amours once stood, but that has since closed as well. That leaves Rob Pasbani. One could often hear him screaming over the sound system between bands, “Check…your…coats” or “Buy…a…drink.” He was in charge of that stuff. Mike Inhuman Mike, of the Brooklyn band Inhuman, said back then, “Inhuman have been playing the Temple in Brooklyn since the beginning really, like late ‘98-early ‘99. At one point I was even booking the shows there in conjunction with Loni and Jordan, and I also co-founded the annual Brooklyn Fest that happens every summer.” But what matters was the chance for the fans to see the bands. For much of the audience, some of whom were still in their teens, it was their first chance to see a live performance. This was a nascent scene, and these kids were growing up with the bands. They lock back now and are able to say, “hey, when I was a kid, I saw so-and-so when they were first starting out.” Kevin Devine in Miracle of 86 As Mike Inhuman, had put it: “We have had some great shows and some iffy ones, but I have fun there no matter what. I like the fact that the crowd is really young and not jaded; kids there wearing a Korn shirt today, may hopefully be sporting a Gorilla Biscuits or Sick of it All shirt one day, you know?” "My impression of the crowd at the Punk Temple is that the people seem to beenthusiastic about being there,” added Fred Mascherino, also of Breaking Pangaea. “If the bands are willing to have a good time, the fans will be right there with them. It was packed when we played, and I hear that that's the way it always is.” Temple regulars As with any scene, there are regulars that showed up. One saw the requisite Rancid and NoFX shirts, wool caps, and even the occasional ‘70s full out punk bondage gear, including Mohawk spikes (one even had what he called a tri-hawk) and metal studded jackets and bracelets. The mosh pit was fast and wild, with speed circles, skanking, windmills, and twin twirling (two people holding hands and spinning as fast as they can for as long as they can). Sometimes you’d see some young teen with a Ramones shirt, with the original line-up. The only things banned on the premises were smoking, drinking, and drugs (though they seemed to be happening outside on the steps of the synagogue). But one thing a Temple attendee got was a good show. “The kids at the temple are always really enthusiastic,” claimed Brendon Thomas of Blind Luck Music during the early ‘00s. “They go off for the music, and in turn we go just as crazy for them onstage. A good show is all about the energy interaction between the band and the audience. At the Punk Temple, there always seems to be this positive vibe that everybody just feeds off of, and in turn, we all always seem to have such a great time. Meeting and talking to people there is fun too, especially since we're from Vermont and we get to experience firsthand how different life is for all these kids in the city, and yet, see how similar we all are when it breaks down to the basic emotions that come out in the music.” Blind Luck Music The surrounding neighbor-hood was sometimes suspicious of the Punk Temple crew, and had a bit of a “redneck” attitude. Between sets, one night in April 2002, there was trouble at the nearby Burger King when some local “Tony Monaro” wannabes assaulted a couple of Temple attendees, a scene right out of “Billy Jack.” Tolerance and understanding wasn’t exactly a neighborhood historical trend, though even then it was actually better then before that time. But the Temple goers had a strong sense of community, into which just about anyone was welcome. As Sid said, “The Temple has become a nice little community where almost everyone is supportive and is there to have a good time and enjoy the music and atmosphere. What I get out of it is a sense that I'm giving back to a music scene that basically made me who I am today. Punk music and underground music in general has been probably the most important thing in my life since High School and the great thing about punk is that its so easy to get involved and be a real part of it. I figured giving some time to this is the least I could do after all I've gotten out of this music and subculture.” Back then, the Punk Temple was part of an unofficial triad of punk clubs in the surrounding boroughs, including Dock Street in Staten Island and the Red Zone in Queens, but you would find lots of people who regularly attend those clubs showing up at the Temple come Saturday Night. Show styles varied: most of the time it was punk, but the guys who ran the place did a great job of blending genres, as long as it was DIY. “I just wish more HC shows would happen there, or heavier Punk shows, but Emo and Pop-Punk bring in all of the money, so I can see their point. I'm just glad that Inhuman is welcome and a part of the original group of bands that continue to play there. Actually we may have been the first legit NYHC band to play there, and that's pretty nice,” said Mike Inhuman. But the overall philosophy of the Punk Temple was that it was something special. Loni explained before it closed, “The Temple is not Irving Plaza, it is not run by Clear Channel or Delsner-Slater. The Temple is a DIY venue. What that means to me is that we can make it whatever we want to make it. We don't have to worry about selling a certain amount of tickets or having a particular type of show or having a particular kind of crowd. The Temple is also about community. It has become a place where kids can be themselves, and they can make friends with others. So many friendships have been made at the Temple. I really feel like we are making a difference by doing the shows because I feel we have made a lot of people happy. I have a love for music, and I love being involved in it in any way. Putting on a show and seeing 350 kids come out to see a band that doesn't draw that much anywhere else makes me feel like we've done a good job, promoting the venue, and promoting that band.” Tony, who formed the band SQNS The Punk Temple closed in 2003 after a summer’s evening show featuring Leftover Crack. The venue had been oversold due to so many kids wanting to see it. The basement was tremendously hot, so many people stayed on the sidewalk between bands. And those who wanted to get in but couldn’t also hung around, possibly to hear whatever music leaked out, or be with friends. This led to drinking and being loud, which resulted in the neighbors calling the police. Because of the overcrowding of the club, it was shut down by law enforcement. After that, the synagogue would not rent the space out for shows. Shortly after that, the synagogue, which was struggling financially, was torn down for a high-rise condo complex. The guys who ran the Temple, Len, Loni and Sid, basically disappeared from the scene after that. Monty kept it going during Monty Love shows at Dock Street until the band broke up. The Nerve!, who played the Temple, started shows at Peggy O’Neill’s in Coney Island for a couple of years, and when they broke up, the shows stopped there. It’s been five years since the Punk Temple closed, but it is still sorely missed and was a great place to see the bands. Many more pictures here:

http://groups.msn.com/PunkTempleshows2003byRobertBarryFrancos/pictures