Tag: punk

A day to remember a lost friend: D Boon

d.boon

Dennes Dale Boon died on this day in 1985. Some people like to remember John Lennon on his death day, for me it’s D. Boon and the end of the Minutemen.

D. Boon was a fat guy in a uniquely weird punk band. He was a working class guy with a great mind and a huge heart. I went to countless Minutemen shows for the two years I had the privilege of being his fan. To me he meant a whole world view: resistance to Reaganism, the DIY ethic, punk rock that was passionate for change, and just plain old big sweaty fun.

I saw the Minutemen at colleges, in bars, on big stages, in record stores, on the street, in the middle of nowhere, anywhere they played. I jumped up and down and shouted and sang the lyrics with them, dived for the set list after shows, yelled out requests and got them played. Double Nickels on the Dime was a life-changing record for me.

I want to thank D. Boon for teaching me that resistance is possible, that art is for everyone to make, and that you can dance your ass off and make your point at the same time. I’ve missed him for 20 years now, but he gave me that.

Here’s the first of their songs I ever heard, in 1983 on KPFK:

Little Man with a Gun in his Hand (MP3, 4.5M)

Oh those patio nights in those patio hills?

The '57

Got stuck with Flip-Top Peg-Leg tonight on the patio. He came and sat at my table and talked at me about his home electronics. Listening to a known Peeping Tom/psycho girlwatcher go on and on about his video setup makes me want to sleep in an autoclave tonight. Also, boring. Very, very boring. I gave up on getting rid of him and concentrated on admiring his toupée, which is a perfectly oiled 1963 pompadour in steel grey.

He also showed me what high-quality video you can get on his camphone. OH CHRIST I did not want to know that.

Movie Guy Dan showed up later and we traded punk rock stories. I guess he booked Club Fetish around the time I was working for the Reader. I must have met him back then. I told him this story: The other day I was entering the supermarket and a guy coming out had a Hell Comes To Your House II T-shirt. I almost physically stopped him. “What the hell is that shirt? That was a GREAT album!” He smiled delightedly and told me there were only 75 of the shirts ever made, and that his friends who had them all kept them in collections, but he liked to wear his. We traded a couple of stories and shook hands warmly.

NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE

I really like The Pope.

I say this not because I’m friends with the one guy’s fiancée and met him a couple times, but because I just finally got the mp3-trola on myspace to work properly and listened to their music and it blasted my pants right off.

You’re supposed to mention at least two bands they sound like, old rock crit rule. So I pick Half Japanese and Mission of Burma. They have that “this entire record was recorded inside a coffee can” sound that I love from Half Japanese, and they’re anarchic and noisy as fuck. There’s an element of “Help, I am being kicked downstairs into the trash bin” listening to this stuff that really makes me warm and happy inside.

But they’ve got melody and guitar riffs, and the songs go from point A to point B instead of just being slices of noise. I can’t be down with the slices of noise thing; it puts me to sleep. This sound is more like giving a very talented and angry ADHD victim access to drums and guitars and asking him how he feels about his mother. BAM BAM RAAAR YEE HAW CLONK BLONK RRRROAR WHAMMEDY BLAM.

Oh yeah, and Flipper. A lot like Flipper. Anyway I just ordered their CD.