hour Southwest in Lebanon with no cell phone. Therefore, Seattle has gained an extra three days
of mayhem.
I know this will be the most devastating of all. There are no Detroit refugees to back me
up, I have only 4 or 5 band numbers, and I am totally ignorant of the cities layout. I also expect it
to stereotypically rain non-stop. It will be San Fran Part II, and more quixotically vicious then the
48 hour push of NYC. Think that was gruesome? Try a 224 hour 12 straight-day marathon. I’m
not playing around anymore -- I’m going out with a bang, just for you, my loving dear
audience…
I’m so hardened by this year that what I would’ve considered a cataclysmic situation only
8 months ago is now but a fleeting inconvenience. I was a wobbly cup of Jello when I left
Michigan. Now I’m the T-1000, even though I can’t form arm knives with liquid metal.
I’m prepared for the absolute worst, but for the first time I have some money to play with
-- $300 for the week and a half expedition. After living on $15 a week for the past year, this is a
jackpot. I’ll be able to kill time with plenty of grub and not have to walk three miles to the next
checkpoint because that $2 bus fare is my food budget for the entire day…
It’s another 4 hours before we roll into Seattle, which explodes on the horizon after a sharp turn
of the mountains. Its foundation is compactly based in a valley, squeezed together like a shining
jewel. The Space Needle rides high like the Eiffel Tower, calling all the ships to port. The
landscape recalls a miniature San Fran, as if the center of the Bay Area were instead based on
Mackinaw Island.
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Hi-rise freeways run the length of the Puget Sound, the lake-like water basin that is
something between the coast of an ocean and a Scottish loch. Its coast is dominated by gigantic
white and orange cranes that lift train-car sized hunks of steel onto cargo ships. They look like
abstract giraffes, or Imperial Walkers from Empire Strikes Back. In the distance are multiple
islands with mountainous peaks, as if King Kong lurks discreetly.
The freeways themselves are architected with a postmodern, futuristic flare -- three
stacked directly on top of one another, like triple-stacked wafer crackers, vehicles hauling where
the chocolate filling would be sludged. Bridges everywhere, the town’s center surrounded by hills
and lakes that shine in the glistening sun. Luscious green vines crawl up every viaduct and many
of the buildings, like the Charlton Heston New York of The Omega Man. This is without a doubt
one of the most physically beautiful cities in America. Even the Greyhound station is
phenomenal, housing its own hi-grade Thai Restaurant.
Standing on the street-corner for 30 minutes I’ve already been approached by a handful
of crusts and middle-aged heady liberals for no real reason other then I looked interesting. That
distinct Andy of Mayberry Portland vibe is amplified, and it is obvious that the seething mass of
1960’s radicals who flocked North of Frisco over the years have wholly terraformed this city. I
can just feel a rumbling artistic capitol shaking the earth…
LORD NIXON
It’s Friday, August 10th, 2pm when the white cargo van rolls up. It usually doesn’t run this
smooth. Only an hour into this and I have my first interviewee, whom is a living legend. His
name is Kyle Nixon, he runs the high-traffic site Seattle Punk Rock (dot com), and was the
vocalist of SOLGER, the first-ever hardcore punk band from Seattle (circa 1979).
Kyle’s a calm speaking manic-depressive in his mid-40’s; medium build, short black hair,
one iota under 6 feet tall. He swings us by Dick’s, which is the famous punk rock hamburger
joint. It’s sort of a cross between a high-grade White Castle and an oldschool Daly’s: “I used to
take every touring band that would come through up here. Black Flag ate here, Poison Idea. It’s
kind of a ritual. In the old days you could feed an entire band for $10.”
Bellies full we zoom onward to The Funhouse, which is the major punk/metal bar. It is
easily distinguished by the giant evil clown head on top of the building. Its location is fitting,
being stationed directly across the street from the Space Needle its neighboring kiddy carnival.
It’s so abruptly perfectionist -- this haunting, John Wayne Gacy, booze ridden hangout of tattooed
and mohawked freaks that the children gaze upon while riding miniature Big Wheels and Pyrate
Ships. “Is that my future mommy? That clown is scawe-wing me.”
Inside The Funhouse it is a conglomeration between Burt’s Tiki Lounge (ABQ) and The
Old Miami (Detroit). Cheap drinks, small “4 inches off the ground with a two speaker PA” stage,
comfortable leather booths alongside the walls, skinny collectible concert posters galore, band
bumper stickers slapped everywhere, and a privacy-fenced open area out back complete with a
BBQ tent and a basketball hoop for drunken subculturals to play HORSE:
Kyle Nixon: “I’m a native. I started off as a promoter, got into punk rock November of
‘77. I was of the first group putting up flyers for the Dead Kennedys, their first Seattle show. That
was ‘79. By 1980 I threw my first show and right after that we played with Black Flag. We played
with The Neoboys from Portland. You might of heard of Poison Idea from Portland. Before they
were Poison Idea, a couple members were in a band called The Stand and actually broke up at
my apartment. They had a big fight with some rockers that night.”
“Where does the name SOLGER originate from?”
“It’s soldier, it’s a misspelling. If you look at the Civil War, you read these letters of guys
writing their loved ones and they spell soldier ‘SOLGER.’ Because they were very illiterate, and
that’s how it sounds.”
“Your albums still have a cult fan base…”
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“If you look up the band on the internet, and you read the reviews of the first record
[1980], you’ll find it goes about a $100 on EBay. The last one sold for $115.”
“Was it a self pressing?”
“Yeah. I didn’t believe in labels and I didn’t believe in quality either. The songs are great
but I transferred the master to a K-mart tape. So just fuckin’ super crustie. People listen and
they’re ‘holy fuck, this is so bad but so good.’ But then I had Jack Endino, the guy who did
Nirvana’s Bleach remaster everything, and put it on CD in 2003. In 2002 I also sang for The
Fartz, before they broke up for the last time. “
“What year did SOLGER break up?”
“We broke up in October ‘80. We played with Black Flag before…”
“Was that when they had Keith Morris?”
“No, Keith never toured. The first tour up here was February 15th & 16th, 1980. They
crashed at my house. I tried to sneak in, couldn’t get in. I was 17. I met up with them the next day
and got to sing ‘Nervous Breakdown.’ I had the only copy at that point of their EP. I got it from
the promoter ‘cause it was nothing to him. I walked around with this like ‘fucking god’… I
booked them to come back for an all ages show in May.”
“What was Black Flag’s guarantee back in the day?”
“There was no such thing as guarantees back then. The Subhumans got a $100 but didn’t
play ‘cause the place turned into a miniature riot. A guy tried to commit suicide onstage, this all
out brawl happened… That was the beginning of hardcore in Seattle. That show was Seattle’s
first taste of what hardcore punk was all about. Some people got it, some people didn’t.”
“Were you in any bands after SOLGER?”
“I did a fuck band, one called Shit. Our guitar player joined The Fartz and I played with
The Fags. There was another, like a ska type band called The Niceboys. It was with Tommy from
The Fartz… Our first show was opening for Neoboys. In August we got Black Flag up here
again, then we played Portland with them the next night for a whopping $25. Afterwards I went
back to promoting. Did another Black Flag show in ‘83. I had booked Circle Jerks, we sent them
$600 dollars. They didn’t show. We had an insane bill for them too. We had Husker Du and
Malfunction, which later became Mother Love Bone… We’d play the Russian Hall on Beacon
Hill and cops would come and start beating on kids with batons, tell them to get out of the
building. We’re trying to get out but we’d have to go through a gauntlet of batons. Why don’t you
just let the kids leave the building? They didn’t understand punk rock back then. And now they
pose no threat at all. They’ve seen a 1000 Mohawks. They know it now -- just kids, teenagers
doing their thing…. So I just did a lot of oddball shows. Black Flag was giving out my number on
the East Coast so I was getting a lot of phone calls. I quit promoting in ‘83. Just took a vacation
from punk rock. It was pretty much dead in Seattle.”
“What was the main thing that killed it?”
“The lack of imagination; creativity severely lacking… The thing about punk rock – the
exciting part is white hot passion. When you’re really into it it’s your world, it’s fuckin’
everything. And then once you’ve been on all sides of being a promoter the passion just goes. The
acts that come up are far and between that excite you. The good thing about punk is anybody can
do it, the bad thing is you can suck and start a punk rock band. There’s a few great bands, a bunch
of good bands, a ton of shitty bands. Once you lose that passion its time to take a break. Punk
died ‘84, ‘85. It really reached its peak. Hardcore in ‘84 was probably its last push, then
everything started sounding the same. Very chunky styled riffs, Discharge, GBH… The English
explosion in the late 70’s was fantastic. New York had it’s scene with The Ramones and Blondie.
When LA had their scene a lot of people had the same attitude – ‘Fuck the English.’ In the same
way, they were saying ‘Fuck New York.’ The hardcore style, the attitude was you make your own
scene. Make your own music that’s a little more intense and vivid. And then it just got so shitty.”
“Did you get into any of the grind stuff when that started blowing up?”
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“One of the things I didn’t like was the speed. You can play really fast and hide all your
mistakes. So the whole speedcore, the whole grindcore -- where there’s no melody, no structure,
no songwriting, and it comes down to shouting… Darby had his own singing style. Jello had his.
Even Dez from Black Flag, he was different then Keith and Henry. It got to the point where all
the bands were sounding way too much alike and it got boring. Originally, when new wave and
punk were the same, you’d see the weirdest shit. It was Halloween every night. And now a bunch
of people wear Misfits clothing. The whole cool factor was that we made our own shirts. If you
dug Crass you’d make a stencil on a shirt. There was no stickers, there were no shirts. I’ll buy a
shirt, but I support pretty much only the little guys, like some local out of Portland or Oakland. If
I don’t know you, I’m not wearing your fuckin’ shirt. I don’t go for uniforms, the studs and all
that stuff. To me that’s the 1982-84 type look. People should be more creative then that.”
“That much said, what do you think are some bullshit attitudes in general that need to
go?”
“I like personal lyrics in a more thought provoking way. It’s easy to jump on a band
wagon and bash the administration. Right now for punk it’s good 'cause we have Bush. Reagan
was great for punk… There was a time where you could wear a swastika. People don’t get why
Sid Vicious or anybody back then would. The whole oxymoron is that if you were a punk rocker
in Nazi Germany, if you are a deviant, you would’ve been killed along with the mentally ill, the
weak, the life unworthy of life. They took artists that did weird art, they killed them and
destroyed their art. And people still have their head so far up their political ass they don’t
understand sacred little things like that. I like to see a guy up their singing with a goddamn
swastika. Singing about the most fucked up shit in the world. It doesn’t mean you support Hitler.
That swastika literally goes back thousands of years meaning good life and positive things to
Indian cultures. Fucking all over the planet it meant great things. It never had a negative
connotation until 1933. Now punks just preach a direct message instead of something indirect.
We had a song called ‘Raping Dead Nuns.’ It got attacked by feminists. It wasn’t about fucking
raping women. The song was about fucking with the church. We were an anarchist political band.
Part of this, its anti-authority but no state and no god. So in the no god attack aspect, ‘Raping
Dead Nuns’ means this dead old church. People can’t get over any form of shock symbol. And
we got these new skinheads which are supposedly anti-racist but they’re just as fucked up as the
racists. Back when it started in Seattle, a good portion of us, myself included, had sexual
experiences with the same sex. We were open minded as you could fucking get. We didn’t let that
kind of crap get in our way. We just took any mind-fuck that came up to fuck with people’s
heads. The punks either got it or they didn’t. Now most of the lyrics are fairly direct. They just
spout out their philosophy. It’s like politics -- it’s just another preacher.”
“You mentioned being an anarchist band. Were you a total purist?”
“I was a purist when I was a kid. When you get older you kind of loosen up your attitude.
Your so hardcore you fuckin’ focus on little things. When I was in a punk rock band I was about
destroying punk rock. I was about destroying music, destroying everything. Now I look back and
I think all of it was great back then. I think it was so much better when it was all mixed together.
Everybody was there at the show. You’d see the same people. Scenesters, the gay crowd, the art
people, the new wavers, the poseurs, the real punks – they were all there. It’s just nice to see all
the assholes. This is your town, this is your scene, and you’re the ones to show the prestige of it.
And the bands, even if they weren’t great, at least you’d get to network and talk.”
“Do you think Black Flag went in the shitter when Rollins came up or do you dig that
stuff?”
“I kind of bailed on them before the experimental shit happened. Henry brought in more
of a macho, masculine posturing to the band, whereas Dez was the fuckin’ nicest guy in the
world, Ron was really cool. They were like regular folk. And the crowd, they weren’t football
players that turned into punk rockers. The pits were still wild, you could still get your ass kicked
or a fight could break out. But it wasn’t against a bunch of fuckin’ huge ass strong dudes that just
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got into punk rock. Henry’s crowd turned that way… Maybe it was just bad luck on his part.
There were a lo