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I was on the Internet the other day when I came across something that I don’t normally see; a blogger (http://feelinkindafroggy.blogspot.com/) posted music that I had an actual part in creating.
Not only did he post the first record I ever played on, he posted the entire catalog of recordings (long out of print) that my band, the Alter Natives, recorded during our eight-year existence from the mid-’80s until our demise in 1992. I hadn’t heard our music in years and a flood of memories hit me as I listened to our instrumental recordings from yesteryear.
We got signed to SST Records in the spring of 1986. I had called former Black Flag bassist, booking agent and label head Chuck Dukowski to find out when one of their bands, Saccharine Trust, was touring the East Coast again to see if they needed anyone to book a show for them in Richmond. He said they had no immediate plans to tour, but what he wanted to know was if the Alter Natives would be interested in recording for the label. I couldn’t believe my ears. We all
were huge fans of SST and being on the label was our collective dream. I managed to keep my cool during our conversation, but once I hung up the phone, all coolness soon vanished. I started screaming like we had hit the lottery. In my mind, we had just hit the big time.
After a couple of weeks of discussions, it was decided that we would record our debut release for the label at Radio Tokyo Studios in Venice Beach, California. Not having a van at the time, we convinced a friend of ours to buy a used Ford Econoline and the six of us (four band members and two friends) set out to make our masterpiece.
On that trip I learned a valuable lesson; don’t be a dick to people that you have to live with in close confinement. Good lord, I was a horrible asshole. I lit firecrackers on my sleeping comrades, exposed them gleefully and repeatedly to the smells of my rancid bowels and putrid feet and generally made it my duty to make life miserable to everyone within the cramped confines of the van. I thought I was being funny. At that point it time, my feet produced a stench that can only be described as the worst possible odor in the world. It was crippling. All I had to do was just expose the heel of my foot and the van would fill up with my noxious fumes within seconds. They would be truly sickened. Whenever I would attempt to take off my shoes, they would all scream, “enforce the rule” and physically force my shoes back on my feet. Before we even got out of Virginia I was strictly forbidden to ever take off my shoes.
When we arrived at the SST offices in Lawndale four days later, we got out of the van and were immediately stopped by the police who thought we were a gang. They seemed amused by our collective innocence and let us go on our merry way. During the trip across the country, we decided the first thing we should do once we got to California was swim in the Pacific Ocean. It was our mission. We got to the beach a little before sunset and immediately started shedding our filthy clothes racing one another to see who would be the first to jump in the water. It didn’t take long before we realized why all the locals were looking at us in disgusted befuddlement. The water was filthy. It was like swimming in a Porta John. Disgusted, I bodysurfed a wave back to shore straight into a full bag of trash. Back on shore we had to pick the trash off one another before we could put our clothes.
Welcome to California.
To be continued next week…
Hey Bopst, I found this article by looking for old Richmond bands like Alter-Natives at the site you mention above. I have some archived stuff and am looking for more if you are interested in trading. I have some Flannel, Contocook Line, F Word, Death Piggy, Near East, etc.
Posted by
on 12/31 at 03:48 PM
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