Sunday, January 3, 2016

The Hatefucks redux

2016: I recently found this as a Google document I had - so here it is; notes, spelling errors, etc. A couple of people in here or alluded to are friends to this day, some I have lost contact with. This is a snapshot into the past - about 10 years ago.

It makes no difference whether or not it’s true, this is the story of one of many undocumented bands in Las Vegas, a look into the microcosm of a music scene. Why document a band in Las Vegas, one that is small and unknown? There is a story to tell before it’s too late. Las Vegas is a town perpetually changing searching for its’ identity, imploding its history and making way for its idealized future…

It's been about 18 months since Karl was last in a band and it was time to start one with his buddy, Danny.  Karl quit his last band, Bakla, because there were too many problems associated with drugs.  The urge to write music and hang out with friends who shared a common interest were too much and so in 2001 Karl and Danny started the Hatefucks - but through alcoholic haze, the origins can't be clearly pointed at.

The main reason for starting the Hatefucks was an excuse to hang out with friends and jam to some music, not really to start a band.  Karl is a veteran of many bands and it was no big deal to do anything like touring or playing in front of a live crowd.  It was all old hat.  Karl took it upon himself to teach Danny to play bass and eventually Danny picked up lessons himself and learned how to play at a level enough to keep up with Karl.  Musically, Karl had an idea what he wanted to have, a thrash/hardcore punk sound with some Ramones influence... it was Karl's idealized vision and nostalgia of what hardcore was in the early 80s.  Listening to groups like the Locusts, Spazz, One Life Crew help served as inspiration.  Initially there were many times when they'd just drink and listen to cheap Havoc and Slap A Ham crappy records that were ordered from the back of Maximum Rock n Roll zines.  

The soul behind the Hatefucks was to embrace what society wouldn't.  And there were always some kind of inside joke that people couldn't understand, and that was fine by them.

In the early days, band practice consisted of walking down Koval Lane to buy more beer and yelling lyrics.  Koval Lane is a small side street east of Las Vegas Boulevard (aka "The Strip").  Koval was a street where the refuse of the glam of the Strip once lived, however because of recent changes in the way Las Vegas is trying to reinvent itself, vacation timeshares and high rise condominiums were replacing the ran down apartments. Koval was important in the early formation of the Hatefucks.  In fact, Karl, Danny, and Justin would call themselves the Koval Lane Krew.  One time Karl and Justin got into a fight over where was more hardcore, Cleveland or Las Vegas.  Every time Danny got drunk, he'd tell Justin that he was kicked out.  Justin was usually the voice of reason while Karl and Danny were usually the troublemakers.. 

You'd always find something going on Koval Lane and usually with the Hatefucks some kind of story to follow.  There was a time when Karl, Danny, and Justin were walking down Koval Lane drunk as fuck when they stole a homeless person's shopping cart for no reason.  The shopping cart was a treasure chest of old Las Vegas casino workers wardrobe along with a bunch of clothes that looked like rejects from Liberace's closet.  To add that special touch, there was even a lice comb hidden in it's treasure.  The next day, all three Hatefucks woke up with a serious hanging over wearing the clothes from the shopping cart! 

One time Danny got into a fight in front of Robertos, but Karl had to break it up because they had to go home and watch the latest episode of South Park.  Another time at the same Roberto's, Danny jumped the counter, drunk, and started drinking the horchata straight from the machine.

Fortunately before long, there were two demo tapes done.  In each of the demo tapes, Justin was talented enough to play almost all the instruments in all the songs... whether it needed drums, guitar, or bass.   It was here that Die Fucking Die was recorded along with other songs and skits to go with the music.  With inspiration of skater movies like Search for Animal Chin and Johnny Rad doing the Skateboard Shuffle, the Hatefucks were inspired to nothing more than just pure genius.  Trying to keep a scene alive is difficult, especially when you have a very small but loyal audience, hence the Hatefucks had started their fanzine.


Eventually Justin left back to Ohio, Karl and Danny moved to different parts of Las Vegas. Karl was laid off of his job from a local casino and it gave him time to drink and write music.  There was rarely any practice cause it was really just an excuse to just drink and listen to music, while playing Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 2 and 3.  However things started to come together a little more solid when Kendall came on board.  There were lots of good times and adventures that were forgotten, mostly because of the large amounts of booze consumed.

Kendall was Karl's girlfriend's brother.  Karl respected him because he was a skater kid and was fairly nice.  In fact when Kendall was younger, Karl would loan him his Thrasher magazine to Kendall.  But he started hanging out at Koval Lane, whether it was out of bordeom or drama from his girlfriend, Kendall become a regular staple.  Kendall liked the electronic drum machine and started to play around with it and when Kendall went to the Blood For Blood concert with Karl and Danny, he was destined to become a Hatefuck.  Eventually Kendall picked up drums and taught himself how to play using Danny's crappy set.  It become fairly apparent that Kendall's drumming was mediocre at best and it probably would be in his best interest for Kendall to sing the songs.  Kendall became the front man.  The transition to frontman was a fairly easy one that Kendall quickly became accustomed to.


In November of 2004 while at an Agnostic Front show, Karl ran into someone he knew from other bands, a guy named Mike.  Depending on his mood, he was either Hardcore Mike, Metal Mike, or Punkrock Mike... more often than not, he was known as Punkrock Mike.  At the Agnostic Front show, Karl and Mike started to catch up on old times.  Mike was primarily a bass player but said that he liked to drum and was looking for a band, Karl on the other hand was looking for a drummer.  It seemed like a match made in heaven.  Mike told Karl that he had to go to jail for a month and that when he got back and was still interested, to give him a call.  Of course out on parole a month later, Mike showed up with his drum set and Mike became the drummer for the Hatefucks. 


The band was able to find a permanent place to practice when Danny moved to Caliente in 2004.  Unless a phone call was made, band practice usually happened, and for Karl it was usually drinking two 40oz on the way to practice.  To make efficient use of time, the booze was usually consumed on the way to practice.  Drinking and driving for a cause.  Then sometimes there would be minor things to look after like picking up some mic cords, or guitar strings - but there'd always be a stop on the way back to pick up more alcohol.  If it wasn't fueled by alcohol it wasn't good, plain and simple.

It was there that the PA system, mics, amps and speakers could stay in the dinning room along with Mike's drum set. Then on Wednesday and Saturdays the band would get together and start practicing. Even when the band was playing at full volume the noise was usually muted by the house and could barely be heard from outside.  This was a blessing because you could easily practice at full volume and not disturb the neighbors.  You could tell it was a practice day because Danny would come in carrying a case of Coors Light on his shoulder like a ghetto blaster. Usually when the beer would run out during practice there would be a beer run to the local 7 Eleven.  Mike would come to practice and get totally hammered because he had to sit his weekends in jail or house arrest - so he'd get so fucking hammered that he'd still be drunk and sleep his time away.

Kendall progressed to becoming the singer for the Hatefucks and as he got more emboldened to sing, he gradually took it upon himself to start writing lyrics as Karl came in with some new tunes.  Kendall's singing can be described as explosive singing, often stunning the audience from his yelling.  Kendall had always said that he couldn't sing regularly and that if he screamed his songs, it didn't matter if he knew how to sing.  Whatever the magic was, Kendall put it to good use.  Whenever a song was sung, Kendall would grab his 50' mic cord and and run around through the audience.  He'd basically clear out a pit that he had hoped people would join in for some serious punk rock, unfortunately most of the audience were pretty intimidated by Kendall's style and would stand back.  But he would pace around like a shark encouraging people.  The only problem there was with trying to pit to the Hatefucks was that by the time you get up the nerve to start stomping some heads, the song would be over. 

Nearly all of the Hatefucks song were about a minute in length, except for a couple which came pretty close to the three minute mark.  This made the songs extra special because it was thrash punk rock at it's absolute minimum.  No fucking bullshit, just straight-to-the-point lyrics and a burst of lightning strikes.  In the earlier days, Danny was the main writer for a lot of the songs.  He'd fit the lyrics into the songs as it was needed, and Danny usually came up with some of the funniest lyrics as well.  Kendall would study the song a little bit before finally writing, and by late 2004, Kendall was already took over the process of coming up with the lyrics. Sometimes there would be no practice session and instead there would be other distractions, like going to other punk shows or playing Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater.


The set list was always the same ten songs in the same order. So whatever the Hatefucks would practice was what they played, and in that order. Every once in a while there would be a new song written, but there usually wasn’t enough time to have it memorized and perfected in time for an upcoming show. And because the music wasn’t written down the new songs would be forgotten or even reworked completely. The most difficult part to learn was not so much the music, as it was the lyrics. Lyrically, the songs got more sophisticated and as the song progressed, structurally it could change, whether it was through different drumming, change ups, solos, etc. There just wasn’t enough time.


As time progressed in the later months, their music got tighter and better sounding. The music started to click together, so by the time the band started doing shows the Hatefucks already sounded like a veteran band.

After practice, usually things would settle down until the drinking had its fill.  Watching Music Choice at the end of Cox Cable and listening to the Metal channel help provide some intellectual stimulus needed to continue the music.  Eventually driving home was a bit of a challenge to try and avoid the cops.


There was one desert show the Hatefucks were supposed to play, but couldn’t because of the short notice. Typically a show had to be known about a few weeks in advance so arrangements could be made to have the time free, and figure out some of the logistics. Because we couldn’t play the show, we decided to go out to the desert and see the other bands play.


We got to the end of the paved road before we turned off onto a dirt road and just followed some rudimentary directions. We probably made several missed turns, all the time other cars following us to the show as well – we all got lost together. There was one point where we came to the edge of a cliff, good thing we weren’t speeding, otherwise we’d probably end up in Lake Mead.


Eventually we found the show because you could stop and listen to hear where the music was coming from. So following our ears we finally made it to a desert show in the middle of a creosote forest. As we parked, a bunch of paintball freaks jumped up from a hill and told us to leave. We told them to fuck off because we were there for a show.


So while at the desert show there were a bunch of punk bands taking their turn at the generator playing music. There would be the occasional tribal dancing followed by a huge plumb of dust, and smoke from a bonfire. It was a surreal experience because out in the clearing of the creosote bushes there was a lamp and a punk band playing their hearts out.


The whole show was filled with a lot of people there checking out the local scene – most were under aged kids who had no where to go on a Saturday night. The last band to play was CZSF. At our urging, we convinced the band to play one of their songs “New World” four times in a row, which they did. After their show, they found out we were the Hatefucks and it was as if someone just met Minor Threat. The lead for CZSF were pouring us with alcolades and how they always wanted to play with us and how we supposedly did all of these crazy shows. Did our reputation already precede us?


CZSF was a young punk band still trying to find its roots – they knew they wanted to be a punk but really couldn’t find a reason or identity for it. But we decided to invite them over and check out our practice sessions. Maybe CZSF could open for us at our next show… they certainly seemed eager.


There were a couple of times when CZSF wanted to practice with us. For some reason all it turned out to be was more or less hang out during practice. I guess you could say that CZSF didn’t really have a practice session, rather they went through their regular set. Of all their songs, only two really stood out, “New World” (their own work), and “Anything, Anything” (a cover by Dramarama). But in the end nothing really worked out because CZSF wanted to do a show with a bunch of other bands that were socially unacceptable to us (right-wing Nazi-type fucks).


One night in May of 2005 after band practice, a bunch of us got together to go and check out Minnesota pop-punk band, the Soviettes play.  Apparently their venue had been cancelled because of a shooting the previous week, so to substitute, a quick show was put on at the Cheyenne Saloon.  The Cheyenne Saloon was a typical bar with a big screen t.v. and a small stage area next to the fireplace.  We saw the Quitters and Grab Ass Charlestons play as well.  In between the show, Mike and I inquired about doing a show there and we filled out some basic information.  Something was amiss about that night of the Soviettes because it was then that Mike first said something about hating local bands.  In the midst of the alcohol I thought we all got into the music, later we find that Mike started talking shit the Soviettes and I had to actually grab him and take him to the car so we could head back to the house.  That should've been our first clue that Mike's edge was ever too present.

One day we got a call from the Cheyenne Saloon and they said they would like to have the  Hatefucks play at their bar.  The Hatefucks first show!  The date was set - July 27th!  Over the next few band practices we tried to get as much publicity as possible to advertise the show - most of it was through word of mouth.  But Karl being the artist in the band, made up some flyers and we ended up going to different places to drop off the flyers.  The only thing that we worried about was the fact that Kendall was underaged at the time, there were plenty of thoughts about fake IDs or sneaking in, etc.  But that never became an issue in all the shows that we did.

We were in the middle of practice when Danny got a call from Kathy.  He said, hell yeah come on over.  So Kathy brought the band she was in, along with a bunch of other bands on the practice.  By then practice was over and a couple of outstate bands showed up along with a bunch of other crusty punks who were looking for a show.  Apparently the venue that they were supposed to play was cancelled, and so Danny told them to come over to Caliente; nobody was there and we already had our stuff already set up.  To get things going, the Hatefucks started and actually played in front of a small audience (including band members) - it was just like a practice session and everything seemed to proceed fairly smoothly.  After the Hatefucks played, Kathy's band was up, Kontrol.  Kathy was the drummer of Kontrol and were friends with both Karl and Danny since she was a young teen on Koval Lane.  A couple of other bands played, including one that had Corey Feldman as its' guitarist, Chaotic Alliance. 

By the time  Chaotic Alliance started playing, there must've been close to a hundred people wandering in and out of the house, smoking and drinking.  I just remember it being fucking HOT!  Several cases of bottled water was quickly consumed and there must've been a sea of beer bottles and beer cans all over the place.  Suprisingly the cops never came because of the music or the crowd, so it was so far a good night.  Some of the out of state bands started making some inuendos about the Hatefucks not being very good and were actually sounding like a bunch of dicks.  The drinking came to its peak when some people were playing with the darts.  I mentioned that it would be punk rock if we can throw darts at someone's ass.  Danny, wanting to show his punk rock side, said that for a dollar a dart they could throw a dart in his ass.  For whatever reason people thought he was joking.  Danny went in front of the dart board, beer in hand, and I started to collect the money - a total of $7 for 7 darts.  Every time someone missed Danny gave them the dart back and told them to throw it like a man and stop being a pussy.  The first dart landed in one of his ass cheeks and everyone gasped - Danny didn't give a shit.  He pulled it out and the next dart went flying - one landed right near his elbow in his forearm, shoot it again, dammit!  Another dart ended up in Danny's lower back - again another gasp, but everything was fine.  Eventually all 7 darts made their mark, either left or right ass cheek.  An easy way to make $7!  But the next day, coming to his senses, Danny went to the local Quick Care and got a tetnus shot just to be safe.  Unfortunately it cost him a total of $25, so if you subtract the $7, Danny actually came out in the negative. 

Mike was getting pretty drunk that night and his personality had flipped into something I haven't witnessed before.  Mike was almost out of control; he'd stare down some of the different band members.  Sometimes you wonder if he was looking for a fight or some kind of confrontation.  Mike got some spray freshner and was running around spraying it in his mouth and barking like a rabid dog, it'd be foaming profusely.  Mike would shake his head almost growling, then with his other hand grab his beer and drink it.  How he didn't get sick or puke all over the place I have no clue.  Eventually Mike's girlfriend came and got him and took him away.

Later in the evening when everyone started leaving things got quiet.  I was really exhausted and so I laid down in bed.  I helped Danny do a quick clean of Caliente putting away trash, there must've been 2 or 3 huge trashbags completely filled.  Karl had meanwhile gotten into a conversation with Corey Feldman, and before you know it, he had smashed his hand through the window of Chaotic Alliance's van. Metallica is not punk nor was it... ever. Being so called anarchists, they called the cops before taking off... Danny and I didn't know anything and that was that.

7/27 Sunrise Ranch

 8/15 Show on North Nellis Blvd, a house show. There are an argument over who was going to play in the middle for best billing/audience - in usual fashion we were like FUCK YOU!, if you're going to argue about this bullshit, we'll play first. We ended up playing second just prior to Seattle's Bristle who had a show cancelled on them and was playing this show. I still got their CD and a patch to this day (2016). This was one of those shows where Kendall would jump off the stage and run around with the mic scaring the shit out of the people who'd watch - and the other case where once they got up the nerve to mosh, the song ended. Our Starbucks song was probably the only one where people actually mosh and pitted because it was nearly 3m long and man, there was a dust storm from hell that resulted. Well, that's what happened when you only have dirt for a backyard.  

At the end of every show, Kendall would drum and then Mike would sing - the song we would always close with was BITE IT YOU SCUM by G.G. Allin. Mike was great in that aspect because the spirit of GG would come into him and things got intense. Usually at the end, Mike would stage dive into the drum set as Kendall continued to play as best as he could, then everyone would throw their guitars in as well. This show was the last time it happened.

It started with friction over Myspace and who controlled what - slowly but surely things got slowly out of hands, even while it was just listening to records like Anal Cunt. Mike is kicked out twice first time while jamming mike was kicked out because of his anticts.  he had various issues that had to be resolved like his anger management.  He was offered help as long as he was trying to help himself.  After a couple weeks he would apologize,  but same shit over again. second time same as first; and then finally one night, Mike just loaded up his drum set and drove off. That was that.

Kathy comes on board because Konflict thought they were going to make it big and she wasn't apparently "punk" enough. Because we needed a drummer, and Kathy was awesome, we was a pretty smooth edition and added up. I had a crush on her, but that quick subsided as I got distracted elsewhere. Kathy was a technical drummer who was damn gifted versus punkrock Mike who was more of a natural drummer, untrained and a bit more raw. The best part, she loved to drink.



N. Nellis again at a house show with Acto Humanitario, and a couple of other bands. People would yell out "Kathy and the Hatefucks" - and it sort of became an irritating inside joke. The cops came near the end, but were talked/bribed away by Kathy; that same night, some girl was overly drunk and had to have her stomach pumped from too much alcohol. Trying to be a show promoter and keep everything in line was a tough job when you're being pulled in all kinds of directions.

9/9 We also played with the Mentors and Kurt, Karl's brother, was to have his band play, but didn't. Either way, everyone was completely trashed and at the end, I was making sure the PA, and the rest of the instruments didn't get damaged beyond repaired and in the car. Drinking by the pitcher will eventually do that to you.

12/9 Our last show was at the Cooler Lounge with Klinefelter.

The end finally came when Danny decided to go to Harley-Davidson school in Colorado and moved there. Karl and I tried to start up a band but by then, a lot of things couldn't come together. We did a few demos but that's about it.

Was it time to grow up? No. Karl and I continued to listen to records in his "listening room" that had his stereo, fliers all over the wall, his computer, and comfy couch. He'd drink, we'd listen to records, talk shit, check the mail for more records, etc. Occasionally we would jam.  Plus there were always shows to still go to, whether it was at a dive bar or house show.


One show we went to was to see Capitalist Casualties at a house show. I got a shirt early, tucked it in, and watched the opening bands - being on a quiet suburban street: the cops by the dozen showed up. While CC was ready to start, someone yelled "the cops are coming" - though already there. The lead singer yelled "Fuck the cops! One, Two, Three..." and then Capitalist Casualties played four of their best songs before grabbing their shit and making a run for it. Karl and I took off too, of course, because like CC, we were the oldest there. It was probably the best shortest show ever.  


For shits and giggles we also went to see Suicidal Tendencies at the House of Blues - that turned stupid because they were no longer skate punks, it was more of a metal show than anything. Being older and bulkier in nature we usually don't go into pits during shows, we're by the pit or up front near the stage. Perhaps that year we didn't go into the pit, but we went, Karl ended up getting knocked about and ended up taken backstage by paramedics. He refused to go to the hospital and in the end, we just ended up at Roberto's for our bean burritos post-show recap.


But by then, the outlet was gone an the Hatefucks was nothing more than a forgotten memory. Danny and I both got HATEFUCKS tattoos (done old school with a pianowire and cassette recorder motor)... one one my shoulder, the other on Danny's neck (before he left). Karl likes to keep fliers of shows and has a nice collection of them.

Monday, December 21, 2015

350

No I'm not talking about 50 extra Spartans taking on the Persian Army led by Xerxes.  I'm talking about 350 pennies.

Prior to Ann breaking up with me, I had on order a yearly 'zine/comic called As You Were, along with a few CDs that I decided to pick up.  As the 'zine wasn't out yet, it was a pre-order.  I got an email saying that my order was placed and shipped... since I originally thought Ann had a shelf life longer than a candy bar, I had it order sent to Wilsonville.

Apparently my order had arrived and I'm assuming that Ann had forwarded it here in Vancouver without postage.  So today, the postman was making his late night delivery for signatures and to collect his fee.  The only thing worth mentioning was that Frank's Christmas present arrived - a Jack Skellington with an electric guitar.  Then there was the mysterious thing that would cost $3.50 - Frank didn't want to pay for it there and then and instead said he'd pick it up tomorrow.

Upon looking at the orange receipt (for pick up and essentially ransom note), he said it was for me and that it mentioned where it was from.  Then I remembered the As You Were, again (a month later), and we figured that Ann had it sent here minus the postage.  I told Frank if he wanted he pick it up tomorrow he can and if he didn't to just throw it away (I would of course repay Frank).  So I don't know the fate and don't care.

I had found As You Were (minus whatever CDs I ordered), in Portland a couple of weeks ago when I was on Mississippi Street browsing through the 'zine store and comic store there.  So I already had a copy and therefore it no longer matters.  In fact when I told the girl at the small-press store (forgot the name, sorry), about what happened, she gave me a 50% off the price because she felt so bad for me.  Either it was an awesome sad story, she had a heart and felt bad - but she must've seen the genuine look in my face that lit up when I saw the zine.  That was awesome and helped put a damper on the hundred bucks spent between the shop, the record store (for a bootleg copy of Joy Division live sessions on vinyl), and the comic shop.

Like all good thing of Ann's, if Frank does pick it up, it'll end up in the trash... well, except the tunes.  I don't even know what music I bought.  Fortunately I wasted some of her time and in return none of mine - well, except to write this.

Update: 1/06/2015: I don't know if the USPS gave up or what, but the package was eventually delivered minus the 350 Lincolns requested.  I thought about just writing on a black Sharpie "deceased, return to 8422 SW Curry Drive, Unit C, Wilsonville, OR..." etc... but I didn't.  So it officially arrived - I opened the package, gave the 'zine to Frank, took my CDs (Shang-A-Lang), and apparently a comic in there I forgot I ordered, Nothing Nice To Say.  Being inspired by the sudden bounty, I went to No Idea and then ordered the free cd, sticker, and a new release by Chris Wollard and the Ship Thieves... (this time coming here, not there).