As the rigors of adolescence continued to scar my fragile id, I began
to yearn for the music I loved (see above), except with an edge. My first
taste of this was when I happened upon a Surf Punks cassette called Locals
Only, swill. Later, after I had matured sufficiently, I was given a promo
copy of the Social Distortion CD, SOMEWHERE BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL. This
was Buddy Holly or more exactly, this was the classics
of country and western--the roots of rock-n-roll--with all the edge, darkness
and aggression that my lonely and (obviously) troubled adolescence had
bequeathed me. At about the same time I went with an old friend, the already
introduced Dale "Crunch" Berry, to a Ramones show. This was a primordial
experience. I watched an engrossed throng pogo through the entire set.
I heard the one, two, three, four.. which heralded the arrival of the next
two minute burst of energy--Buddy Holly with contacts and a bad attitude.
My personal experiment with the evils of rock-n-roll convinced me that
rock-n-roll will rot your brain so I am happy to take my place as the four
(albeit I only need two) stringer of the Underachievers.