12-12-2008, 03:59 PM
Hi All,I would like Honest criticism. I'm a big boy. I think I am finished with the forward of my Hardcore Flyer book, but would love for some nitpicking.I just want to make sure this all sounds ok.ThanksPat------------------Where do I start?As with so many other kids that grew up during what I see as the height of the American Hardcore movement, however short lived it was. It seemed liked this music scene was the only place that we fit in. Sure there were cliques, you had, kids from good homes, kids from broken homes and kids with no homes. The music brought us together and I can, without a doubt, say that my best friends are people I met back then. Quite simply it was the most life changing times of our lives.Everyone has a different story but for me it started when I went to Warehouse records and tapes out in the suburbs, and met a guy who went by the name of Hatch Boy. He worked in the store and was in a local band called Shell Shock. Hatch steered me towards the hardcore selections that they offered with a bounce in his step and a smirk on his face. I remember him pulling out various albums that he "knew" I would like. Black Flag, Suicidal Tendencies, Dead Kennedys, Circle Jerks, and some compilation albums like, Let them eat Jellybeans, This is Boston-Not LA., and When the Men were Men and the Sheep were Scared. He also threw a 7 in. of his band called No Holds Barred. Hatch also helped concrete my decision on the records by only charging me $15 for all of them. I took them home put them on the turntable and haven't looked back. This early selection of albums were played over and over. I couldn't get enough of it. As soon as the first record was over, i was hooked for life.There were only a few places in New Orleans that would allow these types of bands play in the early days. The VFW hall on Franklin Avenue is the one that stands out in my mind the most. We would have bands from all over come through and entertain us for a few hours. I can remember showing up early just to hang out, and bullshit with friends. It didn't matter if you couldn't come up with the $3-$5 to get in, there was always a good time to be had outside and as the night went on and bands left the stage, the price of admission would go down.The VFW was this little raised shack on a dead in street. It was up a hill and right between the ghetto and the train tracks. Inside there would be a stage made out of plywood and milk crates. All of the kids would be singing along and dancing in the pit. It looked very dangerous, but if you fell in the pit, someone was there, right behind you, to pick you up without missing a beat so you could get right back into the mix. Along the back of the hall were older people watching the bands. I always wondered who the older people were. It wasn't until much later that I would figure it out. I can remember showing up hours early just to hang out, and bullshit with friends.Some of the bigger bands would play at Jimmy's (now called The Frat House) or Storyville Jazz Hall(which is now the ridiculous neon and parrot covered eyesore known as Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville) For the bands that would play over 18 shows, it was Jed's and Capps (although if you were under 18, it didn't much matter anyway). Through the early to mid-nineties the places to play extended out to Legion halls and Lion's clubs in Metairie. Also the occasional teen club would let the bands take over for a night.____________