I’ve been handed a lot of credit and some of it is applicable but for a good portion of it there is a lot to do with what I’ve brought up on here before but may have gone over people’s heads. I use the word penance in a title, I talk about chilling out all the fighting that was unnecessary and really trying to make things ultimately a better place for everyone to come and enjoy. I am happy to be recognized by my peers for my efforts but there is a lot to be said for making up for things in the past. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve ruined someone’s day. Hence the slogan “We had fun, it’s a shame no one else did” as an entry title. The amount of work I put into the shows really only started to progress when I took an active role in cleaning up the messes I would personally make. Shows were that were NOT mine were always open season, venues good or bad were never thought of as commodities. Fighting for pride, for cool points, for a release took precedent. There were times when I could say that I wish I had ME then to choke me out.
But that wouldn’t have happened. We’ve always had a working “respect” for those poor souls who were charged with kicking us out. Robby Redcheeks always spoke highly of my ability to be told to leave and never give a fight or an argument. I can recall being asked to leave a show on many a night for punching someone and just asking to get my bag. It was a far cry from the days of the Troc with that sly silent smile Sloan would give me and then have me tossed for blasting someone for god only knows what. I really liked the era when my friends became the bouncers at the TLA/Electric Factory. Hell even the troc for its new added barricade had a level of fun still because we’d become the regulars and hell could be raised within reason. Beatings were far from uncommon and some sets would require a fight a song. Kids can’t fathom that now. Internet gossip mongers on sidekicks would have a field day acting like court stenographers recording things blow for blow and really working up a sweat to be the first to post the results on the local messageboard. But it happened. And it was good for what we had, needed. Things at the Church slowed down when a fight at H20 stopped Robby from being allowed to book there. Then came the glory days of the lineups like Hot Water Music and Promise Ring and 800 kids packed in there tight as a nun’s cunt. It wasn’t pretty but the lineups were amazing. I even gave Sean a hand in those dark days at one particular show to keep some of the idiots out because the show was WAY over sold out. In those days they ran the line down the street towards 22nd. One the crazy nights it would go to in front of the Mutter Museum.
I booked my shows and helped my friends but never made an impact like I would be able to because there was always a clear and present danger in coming to shows out of downtown/west philly. There we had dominance and although fewer fights then you’d believe it wasn’t deemed safe or cool to travel to Unity Street Hall, G and Erie at the Sports Center or the Frankford Y or St. Pauls on Castor. We did however corner the market on great Bad Luck 13 moments. The first show I recall them being called Bad Luck 13 Riot Extravaganza and not Snail Trail was at Unity Street Hall. I could be wrong but it was the first I recall. That night guys in luchador masks threw trash cans at each other and the crowd rejoiced. Later I got a different venue near North Catholic and a great lineup deemed worthy enough to have an awesome time. However I wasn’t quite 18 yet and the guy gave me a hard time about only having 120 at the door and so he tried to take all the money. His avarice paid him off well with Bad Luck 13 taking the stage and igniting the place in what made for their first great “video”. There were tables flying, the windows were smashed and a ladder was even thrown through one. I recall being locked in the venue after the owner left the place bleeding from a headwound. When the cops showed up we played dumb and walked out scot free. Life was fun like that.
It stayed like that for awhile. Book a show, have a blast, shit would happen and I’d get another spot. I did a terrible job that summer booking shows at the Sports Center but it was better then nothing. The biggest shows I did that year had Etown and NJ Bloodline. I did Clubber Lang and one of the last BurnSide shows I can remember. The place was too big and the manager who “hired” me never stayed on long enough to make things right with the place. Either way it was a blast. Those were the days of the white camaro, the punk rock house and so many other fabled stories that I won’t spend em all right here but needless to say it was a time for decadence. A friend of mine got his nickname 40 boy that year by standing out front of the Y where Robbie did a handful of shows with a different 40 oz per band. We were always drinking, usually drunk and fights happened quickly. The Y was awesome, fights never got too out of hand but there was that level of scumbaggery there that makes me squirm a lil when I think of how we acted. That year they put up the barricade at the Troc and I remember hating shows there since. That and getting banned from it the following year helped in my quest to not fuck with the Troc until lately when I will show up for the metal shows that come through and that’s about it.
The killtime really picked things up for Philly right when we needed it too. It wasn’t too long before we were drinking and fighting in front of there again. I can even recall once being sober fighting 3 guys by myself for a few, with one of them being on crutches. It was the first time I’ve seen a toaster used in a melee. It was for me the beginning of Punishment and some of the weight that I carry now being placed upon me. I think quitting drinking lead to me being more rational then the rest. I’d started the band and wanted it to be able to play. It never stopped me from throwing punches and will never stop me but ultimately the nonsensical brawls slowed up at that point. Sure at the E Town show during the Punishment set I jumped off stage to get into a mess and it later came back onto the stage but I was only 19 and still learning the ropes of these things. Ha.
I can’t seem to think of when I took an active role in the face of what we were doing. I will say by around 03 most of my friends had seen a few of us locked up, a lot more being done with hardcore and those that were left didn’t have the fight in them as much as we just liked being around each other. It didn’t stop the random loser who didn’t know any better from getting knocked out but it stopped us from ruining the second coming of the church shows. I can really say that it was the beginning of the second run that lead me to start working security and wanting to see better things happen for the Church. I had the HP shows pulled right out from under me and it was a blow to my actual hard work and true efforts to eliminate some of the shit I’d mentioned previously. Every show at HP I ran had zero fights, and almost 100 more kids then the last. It was a good time for what I’d started embarking on but without the results or proximity to downtown to really hit a homerun.
I wanted more for the Philadelphia I started seeing growing from bands like One Dead Three Wounded, Blacklisted… we had so many bands growing like Passion, Heidnik. Shit even Russ had the short lived “Face Mask”. It was time to get things on point with the Church and get the right direction and mindset in place with the rest of my boys. I truly think had I not been doing so much touring in 05 that I would have done something similar to TIH then. Ultimately the timing was right when I thought of it on tour post 05 posi #s how things needed to be on a more even footing for the smaller working bands that seemed to not get the notice because of the size and importance of the fest. Bob had done well for himself but these things grow into monsters as we saw in 05 with the end of Hellfest. Not that its ugly head won’t be rearing back up again but I think we are still a few more years off til when bands can’t play an entire state from jun to august for one weekend. It seems silly but it becomes overwhelming now in trying to do good for all, by all to have to pick 40 bands or so out of the near 1,000 or so available. It really becomes a needle in a haystack situation. I can’t even use the argument well if things were run tighter on time we could fit more bands because I honestly can’t get another band wedged on the fest if I could manipulate time. It becomes a lot to swallow. Having people expecting one thing, not being able to deliver. Hoping a band will be interested playing while being polite and saying no to about 100 or so bands in a single week. Its really a ballbuster.
But what is the alternative? To be in my late 20’s and punching kids for poor mosh etiquette or for random dumb shit? I’ve shifted the mindset I had towards good and the rewards are seen for the scene but there is a time when I wish I could go back to just dancing with a cueball or showing up without a care in the world about the show. I sometimes feel the need to help when not asked because others seem to be unable to get things in order. I don’t mind, someone has to do it or it will just grow out of control and land in your backyard you know? I would like to ultimately have better stress management but I am still waiting on the winning lottery and 12 inch dick I’ve asked god for about a million times.
I appreciate everyone seeing what I do and being thankful. That in itself is enough, but please understand had this been 10 years ago you’d might be saying the exact opposite.
I’ve grasped the concept of the word Penance. I’ve learned of the heights to which I may soar beyond the clouds only to grasp and claw another mile forward. There is no goal in sight as it’s all in payback. My best efforts will receive no validation, no reward and no sense of satisfaction. Like the cup that you make drink your heart and belly’s content only to be thirsting evermore. It’s the new way I will take each breath and stir restless each night. To never hold in my hand the prize for all my toil. To know its warmth and its beauty but to only have the tingle of memory to keep me dazed and pushing forward. To know not the sweet taste of her lips or the sensual aesthetic of her silhouette undressed upon my bed. To always roll to a cold side of a bed too big for one, I will crawl through each day with her visage in every reflection tantalizing my heart and poisoning my mind.
To know you’ll never be number one in someone’s heart again or be the shoulder to lean upon and sob. To wake up each day wondering how your children have slept and if they’ll understand why their father disappeared into insanity. To choose to serve where you once lead. It’s a miraculous irony to open my eyes to what she once had months after she gave her last gasp of hope away to the arrogance and selfishness. To lie awake each night wondering if she wrote or if she’s lying in bed with another. To hope that each call coming in is from her and she’s en route ala ’03 and we’ve got that big kiss coming up.
