California Über Alles

A look at Hardcore California: A History of Punk and New Wave

Hardcore California: A History of Punk and New Wave is a strange little book. Published in 1983, the book is split into two halves documenting the LA and SF punk, new wave, and hardcore scenes. It’s been in and out of print for years and floats somewhere between essential document and cult classic. The book goes for big bucks on the resale market and has been a collector’s item for years.

A big part of the book’s appeal is its format. It’s not quite square, not quite 12” by 12” (like an LP), but it’s close. The book is only about 125 pages but is loaded with hundreds of photos, many of which you won’t find anywhere else. It’s like reading an oversized zine without the minuscule type and faded newsprint that can make reading old fanzines a challenge. While it lacks a proper index most of the photos are meticulously documented. If the photographer’s name isn’t known the provenance of the photo is provided.

Cover photo by George Sera

As near as I can tell, the book had three editions (August 1983, September 1984, August 1989) but Amazon lists a 2015 edition, which I’ve never seen. It also lists the dimension of this mysterious edition as 6” x 9” and is probably incorrect. Online listings for all the big retailers are auto-populated so if an error appears on one listing it can spread to all of them, which really sucks. The book is no longer listed on the Last Gasp website. I have the 1989 edition and that’s what I’ll be referring to. (If you have an edition after 1989, and/or if your copy lists additional editions, I’d love to hear from you.)

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Hardcore California is that it was published as the punk movement was unfolding. Perhaps in 1983 the scene wasn’t thriving, or seeming to thrive, like it did in the late ’70s, but landmark SST albums like Black Flag’s My War, Meat Puppet’s II, Hüsker Dü’s Zen Arcade and Minutemen’s Double Nickels on the Dime were still on the horizon, which inspired (and continues to inspire) countless punk labels.

The book is a bit schizophrenic in its tone. The LA half was written by Craig Lee and Daniel “Shredder” Weizmann. Lee played in the Bags, a band from the first wave of LA punk, and Shredder was a teenage zinester who covered the punk scene for Flipside. Their writing captures what it was like to witness LA’s weird and wonderful punk explosion. It has style for days: “Sid Vicious was dead and the Hong Kong Café was open.”

The latter half was compiled by Peter Belsito. I say compiled because it reads like a scene report that dutifully documents where the shows were held, who organized them, and who played. The music itself is often an afterthought, which is a shame. I think it’s fair to say that the bands from the fog aren’t as well known as the bands from the smog and a more robust depiction may have changed that, but I’m probably kidding myself. Punk rock is, and always will be, obscure. Seeking out music that others reject has always been part of its appeal, and I’m grateful for the meticulous way that Hardcore California was assembled because it makes that search a little easier.

The book was edited by Peter Belsito and Bob Davis—both from San Francisco. Belsito was the co-founder of Damage zine, which formed in July 1979 and ran for 13 issues until June 1981. (You can download the entire run at Circulation Zero.) Fans of SoCal punk will find scene reports from Brendan Mullen and film reviews from Joe Carducci.)

Davis was a musician and sound engineer who taught at City College of San Francisco. Both co-authored, along with Marian Kester, STREETART: The Punk Poster in San Francisco. Their visual aesthetic is what makes the book such a compelling document all these years later.

One thing I’ve never been able to understand about Hardcore California is the front cover. The title and subtitle are in big bold letters but the photograph is one of the worst in the entire book. It features a blurry photo of the singer of San Francisco’s Bad Posture. I like Bad Posture. That’s not what I have issues with. There are plenty of great photos of the frontman, a seven-foot-tall giant who went by the name 4-Way (named, apparently, for blotter acid that could be divided four ways), but this isn’t one of them. (No disrespect to George Sera, who took the shot.) My guess is the editors didn’t want to be saddled with picking a single artist that would serve as the face of California punk. So they chose a dark, blurry photo of a performer whose head is thrown back and could be anyone from anywhere. It was a ’90s vibe. If you told me it was Guy Picciotto of Fugazi in the photo I’d believe you.

Photo by Edward Colver

Compare that to the back cover (because you’re only good by comparison) that features Edward Colver’s shot of a punk kid with a Wasted Youth patch mid-flip at Perkins Palace in Pasadena. In my opinion, it’s one of the best punk rock photos of all time and should have been on the front cover.

Belsito and Davis write, “Every 18 to 24 months a new generation passes through the scene.”  Although Bad Posture played a ton of shows in the early ’80s, it was late to the scene and then relocated to New York. Although “G.D.M.F.S.O.B.” was included in the comp Not So Quiet on the Western Front, Bad Posture is an odd selection to represent California’s punk, new wave, and hardcore scenes. Again, nothing against Bad Posture. Here’s their entire catalog:

I read the first half of Hardcore California in 2020 while researching Corporate Rock Sucks and didn’t read the second half until last week. After meeting Judy Gittelsohn, Carol Detweiler (Pink Section, Inflatable Boy Clams, Longshoremen), Penelope Houston (Avengers) and Debora Iyall (Romeo Void) recently in Watsonville, I wanted learn more about the scene they participated in and helped create.

I also made a playlist of San Francisco bands mentioned in the book. It’s not comprehensive. Not all the bands are from San Francisco and not all of them stayed there, but it’s a start.

What happened to the creators of Hardcore California? I don’t know what Peter Belsito and Bob Davis are up to. Daniel Weizmann is still writing. He’s got a novel coming out in the spring and just last month he wrote this stunning tribute to Redd Kross. Here’s an excerpt:

Like all greats, Redd Kross are also notable for what they don’t do. They don’t drown in solipsistic gloom (Nirvana), they don’t virtue signal (U2, Pearl Jam), they don’t front that they’re stereotype bad boys (Guns ‘n’ Roses), they don’t trade in nihilism and Armageddon (Sonic Youth, Jane’s Addiction), and they don’t mug for the cameras like minstrels while leaning on black culture (RHCP.) They make no excuses or apologies, need no “mature” context.

They’re like the MGM lion: rock for rock’s sake.

Craig Lee went on to write extensively for the LA Weekly and the Los Angeles Times and continued to make music. He passed away in 1991 at the age from 37 from AIDS. You can find a moving tribute to Lee’s life and work here.

The Fast and the Furious (and the Very Expensive Ride in an Ambulance)

Yesterday the power went out at our house because someone crashed their car into a utility pole and took out a power line. As a result, 5,000 residents of Paradise Hills were left without power for approximately 12 hours. (I’m writing this post by candlelight on a laptop powered by a butter churner.)

Last week I was eating burritos with esteemed San Diego writer Ryan Bradford in my studio in Barrio Logan when we heard a car go screaming down the street followed by squealing tires and two loud thumps. We went to investigate and saw that a BMW had crashed into the VFW.

I don’t believe either of the drivers were killed nor were others reported injured but there’s been in uptick in fatal car crashes nationwide. So be careful out there and keep your head on a swivel or you could end up like this:

Event Alert

I’ll be joining Nolan Knight for the launch of his new book Beneath the Black Palms at Skylight Books on Saturday October 1. Nolan is an old friend and a hell of a writer. Come ask us questions about the unspeakable horror of the literary life or else we’ll talk about the Dodgers until they throw us out.