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Hard Core Logo

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by Michael Turner




  MICHAEL TURNER

  HARD CORE LOGO

  Copyright © 1993 by Michael Turner

  Third Edition: 2009

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical—without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may use brief excerpts in a review, or in the case of photocopying in Canada, a license from Access Copyright.

  ARSENAL PULP PRESS

  Suite 102, 211 East Georgia St

  Vancouver, BC

  Canada V6A 1Z6

  arsenalpulp.com

  The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the British Columbia Arts Council for its publishing program, and the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and the Government of British Columbia through the Book Publishing Tax Credit Program for its publishing activities.

  Some narratives in this collection were first broadcast on CBC Radio

  Photographs by Ingrid Percy

  Book design by Shyla Seller

  “Hard Core Logo” logo by David Lester

  Printed and bound in Canada on FSC-certified paper

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Turner, Michael, 1962-

  Hard core logo / Michael Turner.

  ISBN 978-1-55152-341-5

  I. Title.

  PS8589.U748H37 2009 C813’.54 C2009-904169-3

  Dedicated to the memory of the California Golden Seals.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  1. Ladies and Gentlemen, Joe Dick

  2. First Rehearsal

  3. For Immediate Release

  4. By Joe’s Calculations

  5. Il Presidente at the Wheel

  6. Set List by Committee

  7. Bucky Got Drunk, Told Stories

  8. A New Tune to Practice

  9. Something’s Gonna Die Tonight

  10. Ladies and Gentlemen, Joe . . .

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My top 100-plus list includes: Ingrid Percy (for her love), my family (for theirs), Brian Lam (for his editorial input), Wendy Atkinson (for her promotional efforts), and Patty Osborne (for her professionalism).

  The musicians: the Animal Slaves, the Battered Wives, Art Bergmann (mortgage-payment bar bill), Billy Bragg (ditch the band), Meryn Cadell (return my calls), Johnny Cash, the Clash, Phil Comparelli (helped me eat a handful of dirt once), Stompin’ Tom Connors (outdrinks everyone), Country Dick (drank our rider), Country Joe, cub, Devo, the Dils (and what came next), DOA (that was now, this is then), Elvises, David Gogo (Fender Mustang, heavy gauge), Gun Club, the Guthries, Gerry Hannah (eats at the Frontier), Hard Rock Miners, Joe Hill, Chris Hillman, Jr. Gone Wild (featuring ‘Mom’ Simmons), Hudie Led-better (will tune your 12-string while you sleep), Lost Dakotas, Luther Victim (try their “Cavernous Roll”), Ewan MacCall, Malcolm’s Interview, Meat Puppets, the Modernettes, the New York Dolls (why Buster, David?), the Nips (get back, Shane!), Herald Nex, Phil Ochs, Gram Parsons, the Picketts, Pointed Sticks, the Ramones (fuck the guitar solos), Jimmy Rankin (thanks for the cigarette), Jean Redpath, Rheostatics (too good for their own good), Keith Richards (share your millions), Jeannie C. Riley (country music P.T.A.), Roots Round Up (for getting Ford on waivers), Kevin ‘Lemon Loaf ’ Rose, the Saving Grace, the Seegers, Show Business Giants (’cause I was paid to say it), Slow (the Hamm years), the Smigglers (the Roman Candles of Canadian pop), the Smiths, SNFU, the Sons of Rhythm Orchestra (and Jerry Jerry), Subhumans (always already), Teenage Head, the Undertones (right, Ike?), the Velvet Underground, Violent Femmes, Rufus Wainwright, John Williams (not that John Williams), Lucinda Wiliams, Robert Wiseman, X (the Knitters, too), and Neil Young (please make more inaccessible music).

  The clubs: the Albion, Amigos, the Arlington, the Bronx, Call the Office, the Cameron, the Club, the Commodore, Crocks ’n’ Rolls, the Diamond, the Flamingo, the F.O.E., Le Foufoun Electrique, the Horseshoe, John Barley’s, Luv-a-fair, the New York Theatre, the Oddfellows Hall, the O-Zone, the Power Plant, the Railway Club, the Spectrum, the Town Pump, Le Tycoon, Ultrasound, teh Venue, the Westward, Wilders, Zaphod, and all the oogans who ever pogoed, stage-dove, and/or drank a beer full of cigarette butts.

  Those behind the scenes: Audio Plus, Cattle Prod, CBC, CFRO, Bruce Charlap, CITR, Lincoln Clarkes, Miles Constable, Chris Cran, Gary Cristall, Chris Crud, Greg Curtis, Christ Dafoe, Sherri Decembrini, Discorder, the Einstein Bros., Richard Flohill, Gangland, Ted Herman, Elliot L., Bud Luxford, Grant McDonough, Laurie Mercer, MoDaMu, the North Bay Steves, Jay O’Keefe, Quintessence Records, Greg Reely, Tony Ricci, John Ruskin, Cherie Sinclair, Kevin Statham, Jeff Stillie, Jerry Stoll, and Teamworks.

  The structure I hate also hates me, but it makes me, and that’s where the problem starts

  —Jeff Derksen, Dwell

  “I have got to get this skiff. I’m getting on in years.”

  Miranda said without challenge, “I wish I could understand.”

  “It’s the only thing I can do half right. It’s as simple as that.”

  —Thomas McGuane, Ninety-Two in the Shade

  ONE

  Ladies and Gentlemen . . .

  Joe Dick

  March 11

  Mr. Joe Dick,

  My name is Laura Cromartie and I am writing to you for two reasons: 1) because you don’t have a telephone; and 2) because I am wondering whether your band, Hard Core Logo, would consider doing a reunion show in order to raise money for the Green World Coalition.

  The G.W.C. was formed two months ago with the intent of furthering global awareness through aggressive recycling campaigns. The benefit in question will be held on April 30 at the Arlington Cabaret and your band will be paid the sum of $800. Production is included.

  If you would like more information on the G.W.C. or the benefit show, please don’t hesitate to contact me. We don’t have much time and there is still a considerable amount of work to be done. I was a big H.C.L. fan at university, and I would be really excited if you could help us out.

  Sincerely,

  Laura Cromartie

  LADIES AND GENTLEMEN . . .

  JOE DICK

  My name is Joe Dick.

  I formed the seminal punk band

  Hard Core Logo

  back in 1977.

  I was eighteen years old.

  It was my ninth band.

  I am now thirty-two.

  The band is defunct.

  It was a friendly ending,

  but we played up the dissent thing

  ’cause that’s what people wanted.

  We were the populist band.

  We manufactured our ending

  to fit the mold.

  That was the most commercial thing

  we ever did, breaking up.

  BILLY TALLENT, JOE’S OLDEST FRIEND

  Billy Tallent is my oldest friend.

  He is by no means my best friend.

  We met in kindergarten,

  and right from the start

  we got in a fight:

  he cut my lip

  with a conductor’s baton.

  We were the only two in high school

  who knew how to play guitar.

  We’d just turned thirteen

  when we formed our first band,

  Peckerhead.

  It lasted five minutes.

  We’ve never played music

  without one another.

  JOE PHONES BILLY

  You’ve reached 227- 4040. I’ve gone down to the dump to shoot rats, but I’ll be back around five. Leave a message after the cool lick:

  Yah, Billy, J.D. here. Listen, I’m wonderin’ whether you’re
interested in getting Hard Core Logo together for a jam. There’s this benefit thing comin’ up and we could probably make a couple of hundred bucks apiece.

  BILLY GETS THE MESSAGE

  What have I done since the band’s broken up? Gotten depressed?

  Sure. Do I drink more? Yep. Am I happier? Not as happy as I thought I’d be.

  What am I doing about it? Making demos of guitar feedback.

  Going to Seattle to audition for bands. Looking for a woman who’ll understand me.

  What can I do about it? Join a cover band and get off welfare? Take a trip to the detox centre? Let Joe Dick blame me for ruining his life?

  JOE’S OLD WOUNDS

  I have ninety percent hearing

  in my right ear,

  ten percent in my left.

  I have two vocal nodes

  that are inoperable.

  People are always telling me

  that I’m too loud, that I shout.

  Half the time I can’t even hear

  what the hell I’m saying.

  It’s a conundrum, really.

  The more your hearing goes,

  the louder you become.

  And the louder you become,

  the more strain you put

  on the vocal.

  If the strain goes untrained

  you get nodes on your throat.

  Overgrown nodes cause complete

  loss of voice.

  BILLY PHONES JOHN OXENBURGER

  Hi. I can’t come to the phone right now. If you leave a message, I’ll call you back as soon as possible.

  Hey John-O! Billy here. Long time no talk to. Yah. Did you get a call from Joe about some benefit thing? Hmmmm. I don’t know, man. Call me back, will ya? I’m still living at the same number.

  JOHN GETS THE MESSAGE

  The last time we broke up I felt this huge sense of relief. We had accomplished everything we possibly could; and anything else would have been, like, diminishing returns. But this feeling of relief wasn’t a sustained one.

  Three months after the breakup, which was the longest we’d gone without reuniting, I began going through withdrawal. My job at Canfisco was like a ball and chain. My girlfriend left me ’cause I didn’t care. And, for a week or two, I’d even considered suicide.

  I guess it was the way we ended it. After our last show in Toronto our road manager called us into his hotel room, one at a time, gave us our money, then split. Nobody was speaking to anyone anymore, even though we all flew back to Vancouver on the same flight. It just didn’t end right.

  PIPEFITTER PHONES BILLY

  You’ve reached 227-4040. I’ve gone down to the dump to shoot rats, but I’ll be back around five. Leave a message after the cool lick:

  Dumb message, Billy. Yah, I was talkin’ to John about this benefit thing and the next thing I know I’m walking down Main and I see this poster for the gig already: Hard Core Logo at the Arlington. What the fuck’s goin’ on? I thought we buried this band two years ago?

  PIPEFITTER GETS THE MESSAGE

  I need money. My clutch is broken. My only means of income is hauling away other people’s garbage; and if my truck isn’t working, I’m not making any money. So I need money.

  In the twelve years we were together we made okay money. I never really had to work during those years, even though I knew I’d have to get into something when it all ended. When it did end we each got a big chunk of dough from the farewell tours. That’s when I got the notion to buy a truck.

  Things have been pretty slow lately. Partly the economy, partly my own laziness. It used to be fun chucking old chairs and tree branches into the truck all day, then driving off to the dump. But I’m not as energetic as I used to be, so I’m not taking as many jobs. I guess I should be, though. I need the money.

  BILLY GOES OVER TO JOE’S PLACE

  So I talked to the band.

  Let’s fuckin’ do it!

  TWO

  First Rehearsal

  FIRST REHEARSAL

  If we do this

  it’s gonna have to be different—

  no Marshalls, no bass cabs, nothing loud.

  I wanna do this completely acoustic.

  Pipe can play snare. John, the stand-up.

  I mean it, Billy.

  All those years cranked at ten,

  I can’t even hear the doorbell anymore.

  OXENBURGER’S BASS

  I’ve got this busted stand-up.

  Paid fifty bucks for it.

  Never played one before.

  So what I’m going to do

  is colour code the fret board

  like The Clash did for Simonon.

  Went looking for strings last week.

  A brand new set’ll cost me

  twice what I paid for the bass.

  I’ll also need a pick-up.

  That’s another two-fifty.

  The woman I bought it from

  got it from her husband.

  He was a bassist for the TSO.

  Played there twelve years,

  then ran off with a cellist.

  LOW VOLUME BILLY

  This is stupid. Acoustic guitars, a stand-up bass, Pipe just playing a snare drum. Everything about this band had to do with being loud. You take away the volume, you have nothing.

  JOE CALLS OUT THE SONGS

  Let’s start with “The Bootlegger Song.”

  Instead of the feedback intro

  maybe Pipe you’ll do one of those

  rut tut-tut tut-ta things.

  Rut tut-tut tut-ta . . .

  THE BOOTLEGGER SONG

  (FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING)

  He’s a crazy man with no front teeth

  Lives in the basement down the street

  He’s got yer beer and a bottle of Screech

  At four o’clock in the morning

  You can see him out in the afternoon

  Having breakfast at a greasy spoon

  He doesn’t say one word to you

  ’til four o’clock in the morning

  It’s time to go to the ol’ bootlegger

  I’m getting drunk and I want to go later

  Fifty bucks and I’ll owe you a favour

  If you get me a bottle from the ol’ bootlegger

  A bottle of Screech from the ol’ bootlegger

  He’s got to be at least sixty-five

  He’s been selling booze since ’49

  He goes by the name of Mud-In-Your-Eye

  At four o’clock in the morning

  His room is full of pregnant cats,

  Dried up food, and kerosene lamps

  The smell will knock you on your ass

  At four o’clock in the morning

  He’ll offer you a plug of chew

  Then chase a cat from a tin spitoon

  He’ll try and tell you what’s good for you

  At four o’clock in the morning

  But just one thing now before you go

  He’s got a .38 pistol that he wears down low

  If you rip him off he’ll let you know

  At four o’clock in the morning

  JOHN GOES, YAH!

  This is essential Hard Core Logo! I love it! You can finally hear the words! People are finally gonna know what this band is all about! I’m getting a really good feeling about this. Now if we can just learn the songs again.

  A NEW TUNE FROM JOE

  I’ve got this new tune.

  It’s about Robert Satiacum.

  I noticed he died the other day

  at the cop shop on Powell,

  just down the street.

  The papers made a big deal

  out of his last charge.

  Child molestation.

  But he was responsible

  for a lot of good things, too.

  A-one-two-three-four . . .

  LET’S BREAK ROBERT OUT OF JAIL

  He’s been victimized all his life

  Trying to serve his nation

&nbs
p; The F.B.I. called him a crook

  While Nixon planned a break-in

  Let’s break Robert out of jail

  Let’s break Robert out of jail

  Now’s the time to tell the tale

  Let’s break Robert out of jail

  He paid no tax on his cigarettes

  ’cause tobacco was related

  To the labour of the indigene

  That the Old World had invaded

  We granted him an amnesty

  And our country proved safe haven

  There was no way to extradite

  The native of all natives

  But soon enough a case was made

  That he was a child molester

  And when he answered to his charge

  We let him die in a remand centre

  PIPE DOESN’T GET IT

  What the hell was that all about? Who’s gonna give a shit about an Indian dying in some lock-up? I hope Joe doesn’t have anymore new songs.

  FOLK SONGS WE CAN COVER

  The Preacher and the Slave

  Give Me That Old Time Religion

  Union Maid

  Sail Away, Ladies

  The Death of Mother Jones

  Black is the Colour of My True Love’s Hair

  The Man That Waters the Worker’s Beer

  Four Nights Drunk

  John Henry

  I’ve Been Working on the Railroad

  Die Gedanker Sing Frei

  The Great Speckled Bird

  Hold the Fort

  House of the Rising Sun

  MORE HARD CORE LOGO SONGS

  WE CAN DO

  Rock ’n’ Roll is Fat and Ugly

  Who the Hell Do You Think You Are?

  Something’s Gonna Die Tonight

  The Big Bush Party After School

  Edmonton Block-Heater

 

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