L.A. Punk Rocker

By Brenda Perlin

#1 BEST SELLER - PUNK #1 BEST SELLER - PHOTOJOURNALISM

This is what Billy Idol had to say about L.A. Punk Rocker... "Pretty wild chapter on me...maybe u shouldv’e written my book, good luck with it..BFI.”

Fifteen stories from the eighties set in Los Angeles, written by LA Punk Queen Brenda Perlin and her friends who lived every moment of an electric era in the City of Angels. That unique and precious time when punk rock was more than just a rebellion. Inside you’ll discover Billy Idol. Iggy Pop. X. U2. Bad Religion. Tales of local punk rockers on the brink of glorious fame. Late nights at the Roxy. Wild times at the Whisky with some of the best rock ever. Here you’ll find the in-your-face attitude, the clothes, the fashion, the sex, the music as hard as nails and fast as lightning.

Brenda and her friends were somewhere every night queuing backstage, in hotel rooms with the band, partying on the streets...and avoiding irate parents on school nights! It’s all here. LAPunkRocker. The next thing to being there...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brenda Perlin
• Release date: Oct 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311906984

Brenda Perlin

Brenda Perlin is an independent contemporary fiction author of six titles and numerous short stories. Ever since she was a child, Brenda has been fascinated with the writing process. She draws her biggest inspiration from Judy Blume who sparked her obsession with pursuing personal expression through prose. Brenda has always lost herself in the world of literature. Her first series, Brooklyn and Bo Chronicles, captures the soul-wrenching conflicts of a couple struggling for emotional fulfillment against those who would keep them apart. Next, Brenda ventured into the realm of animal rescue, Alex the Mutt, which explores the journey of love and loss of a beloved dog. Her latest novel, PUNKS comes after Crime and PUNKishment as well as Punk Rocker and L.A. Punk Rocker, all four are anthologies where authors write about the music scene in the late seventies to the early eighties: a time when she was in Hollywood meeting famous bands and enjoying the new music scene. L.A. Punk Snapshots is her latest. There she shares quotes from famous and not famous music enthusiasts and old photographs from the early punk scene in Los Angeles. While Brenda is still listening to her favorite bands from the eighties, Billy Idol remains the ultimate King Rocker and music is just as important to her as ever.

Book preview

L.A. PUNK ROCKER

Brenda Perlin

Copyright © 2015

L.A. Punk Rocker

Published by arrangement with Blossoming Press

Copyright © 2015 by Brenda Perlin

Copyright for each story is held by the individual authors and/or publishers.

Photographs © Brenda Perlin © BlossomingPress.com

One Night in Richmond Park Image Billy Idol in a concert by John Brennan adapted from the Wikimedia Commons file

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Steven Novak

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Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to Mark Barry #Mrword

who dragged this bit of history out of me.

Not such an easy task after so many years,

but I am grateful for his encouragement and enthusiasm.

#LAPunkQueen.

Acknowledgements

To all the youth who were as misunderstood as I was.

Much thanks to the people who have shared their story in this narrative and to all the friends that were by my side during this period in my life.

Gratitude to KS Brooks and Stephen Hise of Indies Unlimited. Their support of authors is beyond measure.

Thanks to Arlene R. O’Neil for her expert set of eyes. She is an angel.

MAB, my Spartan warrior princess puts up with me with grace and fortitude. My stories are in safe hands with her smarts and gumption. I am forever grateful.

My honey, who still loves me with all my quirks. He is my true #soulmate

Mark Barry inspired me to write one more book. This one is for him.

Initially an uncommon creature formed in the grit of London and Manhattan, the freedom of Punk Rock soon made itself manifest in the glitter and glam which formed the patina over dark Hollywood Nights.

~ George Pritchard Harris

Table of Contents

Foreword

Vintage Punk

Tropicana

L.A. Punk Queen

The US Festival

L.A. Punk Mayhem

Grungy Streets of Hollywood

Bad Religion

San Francisco

Punk is Dead

Self-portrait

Punk Band Mad Society

Errol Flynn’s Estate

A Night with Ceasar

One Night in Richmond Park

About the Author

Foreword

King Rocker

Mark Barry

© 2015

Mark Barry is a contemporary fiction author of numerous works including the critically acclaimed Carla and currently resides in Nottingham, U.K.

Billy Idol

You are not a symbolic rock star.

The mirror in front of you – enframed by a hundred miniature lights that were once tiny mounted wax candles, a relic from a Broadway show – tells you what you need to know.

You are not a ghost or a spectre.

Neither are you a symbol, though you have been described as such. You pinch the fleshy skin underneath your bicep to check further, and you pinch and squeeze and you nip and tweak, and you don’t let go. On impulse, you try to rip right through the flesh until the endorphins burst their banks, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins like battery acid ensures that you are superhuman and your pain is fleeting and gossamer.

The pinch mutates to the early stages of a bruise.

You are not a symbolic rock star.

You are The King Rocker.

You are Billy Idol.

You are in L.A.

You do not want to be disturbed in the five minutes before your entrance.

The management knows this and observes it.

Your Generation X days.

Back home, in the land of darkness, you remember changing in toilets where the smell was indescribable, and the blocked bowls were awash with piss.

Back home, in the land of darkness, you remember changing on cramped stages while zombies and monsters spat at you and called you a cunt.

Back home, in the land of darkness, you remember changing in a Transit in freezing Dudley, and your chilblained fingers nearly bled as you gripped the microphone.

You do not want to be disturbed.

This is your time.

Your band changes elsewhere in the warren of corridors and rooms behind the stage. That does not concern you. They do their thing, you do yours. You and the boys will mix after at Danny’s. You’ll eat burgers, drink soda pop and be merry on all sorts, but for now, you need to remember, and you need to prime the bomb. You are tight now. Tighter than a guitar string, taut almost ready to snap. You have rehearsed to the point where you are sick of each other. By now, the internal dynamics of the band are akin to those inside a thermonuclear device – and you are ready to explode it on that L.A. stage, where the kids are screaming.

Uranium – 247

Billy Idol – 247

A half-life of one hour and a quarter.

You are the detonator.

Bang.

Outside, in the amphitheatre, they wait in their hundreds.

New York Dolls played here in 1974.

Sex Pistols played here in 1977.

Buzzcocks.

(You remember people saying Ever Fallen in Love is the greatest pop song ever recorded. One day, they will be saying that about you, Billy.)

Bob Marley, Neil Young.

Patti Smith.

The Ramones.

Lou Reed played here in 1976. He must have sat here in this very dressing chair.

Four years ago, the Clash played here, this very theatre.

History etched into the timbers, the floorboards, the tiles.

The Clash.

Reclining in your seat in front of the silvered glass, you can hear them. The local warm-up has been and gone, and the crowd packs the front of the stage. They buzz and anticipate. They have been waiting for you for months. The first ticket was sold within minutes of the announcement and tonight, there isn’t a ticket to be had between here and Seattle.

They have come from miles around to see you.

The kids of America have been waiting for you to sing to them.

They await your Satanic Majesty.

You are the Queen’s Envoy and the gates of the castle are about to open.

They say Sabbath played here.

They say Zeppelin played