Fix video surfaces Fresno, 7/4/81

July 4, 1981, Fresno, Calif.

Funny how you remember things, and I was prompted by this footage from Fresno, Calif., to do so.

This is early in the set, we opened with “Signal”, part of which is seen here.  Then go into an unrecorded song that I can’t remember and another. We’d rewrite these and move parts, they were flexible elements of the set, setting up songs like “Rat Patrol” and “Off to War.”

The Fix came to play this July 4 show opening for the Dead Kennedys at the behest of Biafra, who was kindly good-mouthing our first single. We got into town, did a sound check and left.

Anything is better than hanging around a venue all night waiting to play. Nothing good comes of that.

We were staying at the home of Ralph, the singer from Capitol Punishment, a local band. His parents were out of town, he lived with his parents. Nice place. although it didn't take much to impress us. It was a place grown ups lived. (BTW, Ralph's bandmate, Dale, is doing a great job in recent years of documenting those years in Fresno) 

On the way back to the Belmont Ballroom, we stopped for some food. This was a part of the tour where we still had some money left over from playing Texas and Arizona. We ended up being late to get back, and the promoter was cool but you could tell he wanted us to get the fuck up there. Missed 7 Seconds, who opened. I look at this video and realize we stood real close together, the Michigan guys against this crowd. At one point, a guy came from behind me out of nowhere and launched himself off the stage as the crowd started to dig into the pit halfway through.

That night we went back to Ralph’s and had a pretty good party.  At one point we had a blackout, the kind where the electricity went down. A couple nights later we headed over to Reno to play against with 7 Seconds. About a week after that, we recorded Jan’s Rooms in LA at the Music Lab with Spot. We weren’t making any mistakes.

Old, tattered, used, overplayed 7-inch record sells for $3,760

$3,760 for this. A first class ticket to Europe.

I wish I could say I accept this, but I still can’t get over the collectabilityof the first single by the Fix.  Whoever bought this came in at the end of bidding; it wasn’t someone who had been repeatedly trying to get it. Seller is a record store in southern Ohio. It's a good record, yea. Record collectors are interesting to me in that I love what they collect, although I am a spectator, not a participant. I don’t like stuff, and am able to live for long periods of time in a small room. I have all my music in iTunes Match, have a Jawbone speaker for my MacBook Pro or my iPad or iPhone. And I like to travel, so my spare change goes to that. So it’s especially stunning when people shell out this kinda cash for a record. I’m honored, but perplexed. 

91-Year Old Punk Rock Mom

 My mom turns 91 on June 10. As she will tell you, it’s not recommended to get this old.  She makes due. But on Saturday night, she called me around 11:30 and asks if I just called her.  She’s up until 2 or 3 on most nights, watching old movies, reading the Wall Street Journal or some Michael Connelly book. Not unheard of for her to call at any hour except morning.

“Did you just call me and ask me about the Fix?” she asks. Of course not, I said.

The deal is that she got a call from someone in Winnipeg, Manitoba, inquiring about the Fix. See, in 1981, when we put together the sleeve for Jan’s Rooms, the second 7-inch for Touch and Go, I had the bright idea of putting a contact number on there in case our fans, which numbered in the dozens, wanted to reach us. None of us were stable enough to have a steady phone number, so I put my parent’s number on there. Who would think anyone would ever call us? It only took 30 years.

So on the night of June 2, 2012, a punk rock kid called.

“Is this the Fix?” he asked my mother.

“No, who is this?” she said.

“Steve,” is all she could recall. She heard a good party going on in the background. Music, girls and boys laughing.

He explained the number was on the record and he just wanted to see if the number was any good at this point.

“Who is this?” the caller asked my mom.

“This is his sister,” my mom said. She may be 91 but she sounds  - and looks – much younger.

More music, laughter. The caller was polite and cool about it.  He thanked her and said good-bye.

“It sounds like you’re having a nice party tonight,” my mom said kindly.

I remember reading about Richard Hell telling his mom what he did and she was cool about the whole idea of him being an artist.

This couldn’t be further from that – I’m certainly no artist although I admire any expression of brute force and passion.  There’s no word for that. But that’s all the Fix were. My mom doesn’t need to get that. But she’s sharp enough to bluff out some drunk, well meaning and righteously curious kid north of the border into thinking I have a sister. 

Old Days are Todays

I’ve never uttered the term ‘back in the day,’ mostly because the past is always at hand and to infer that things were better before is a self-inflicted wound. These better be the best days, otherwise what’s the point?

That said, I sometimes forget how much I remember until asked. This column for Revueis hardly as reflective as it began, but it morphed into an ‘oh yea’ sort of thing. It was a cool idea that came from Rich Tupica, editor of the far superior Mid-Michigan version of Revue. 

I've never quite forgotten the mediocre  Gun Club show at Bunches, with Ward Dotson and Rob Ritter, pre-Congo Powers. Probably because I saw the band put on two of the best shows I've ever seen in my life at Todd's in Detroit in 1984 and 1988.  Two nights after that 1982 Gun Club show, the band had a show scheduled in Ann Arbor. Because it was something to do, I rode down there with Craig, a bandmate of mine in the Fix, and a few girls. On the way down, one of the girls mentioned that she had a wing ding with a couple of the guys in the Gun Club after the EL show.

“Well, you should get in free,” one of the others noted. Yes, I thought, and moochingly added, “can you get us in free, too?” I really didn’t do the heavy lifting in those days.  That’s one I hope to fix on the next go-round.

There was a lot I could have added to that Revue story. Sonic’s Rendezvous Band played two nights in 1979 at the Rainbow Ranch, which was a barn-shaped place across from Coral Gables. It was amazingly loud and rock-ish, hitting that sweet spot between guitar wanking and punk rock. Destroy All Monsters played there as well as many other places, always failing to achieve said sweet spot.

The Dickies played at Dooley’s as did the post-Gang War version of Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers. Walter Lure broke a half-pint of vodka in the urinal before hitting stage and Thunders literally fell down trying to do a rock acrobatic in front of the drum set.

The music that came to Lansing was better than I remembered, taking place mostly at Club Doobee and Bunches. I may have forgotten to mention the Fast at Doobee for good reason. The guys who handled bands there had to be spoon fed most things, often via our loud mouths. Having Dave handle booking at the latter ensured quality. Tav Falcoplayed there, I am recalling randomly just now. It was cool to check back on those memories that shaped a bunch of us and I’ll do it again. But it’s even better to wake up every day with a new set of past and present.