Planet Joe

By Joe Cole

Life on the road as seen through the eyes of Black Flag/Rollins Band roadie and Rollins confidante, Joe Cole. Tour journal documenting the final Black Flag tour and first Rollins Band tour.

• Language: English
• Publisher: 2.13.61
• Release date: Mar 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781880985397

Book preview

PART 1

It’s A Bogus Life

002 12.17.85 Westwood, CA: Rollins called me today to tell me that the sound guy called Ratman needs a roadie for the upcoming Black Flag tour and he asked if I’d want to do it. Of course I said yes. This is great! I finally get to do something with Black Flag. I get to see the United States, get out of L.A, and be a part of my favorite band. This will be something entirely different from anything I’ve ever done before. This is unreal. It feels like what I’m supposed to do now. Two weeks from now I leave L.A and the life that’s been dragging along to nowhere. I wish we were leaving tomorrow.

003 12.18.85 Westwood, CA: Today I worked as an extra on a TV show called Simon & Simon. I overslept and was an hour and fifteen minutes late. The A.D. named Pat who is a typically worthless Hollywood schmuck on a power trip tried to make me feel like shit by making a big deal out it. I won’t forget him, I felt like caving his skull in with a sledgehammer. People like him don’t matter and they’ll never make me feel bad about myself. Extra work pays well for doing practically nothing, but it’s a waste of my time. I can’t stand most of the people that I’m subjected to work with. Who are these mutants anyway? Where the hell do they come from? It’s time for me to move on. I know that I am supposed to do more with my life than just be a film extra.

004 12.19.85 Westwood, CA: Today I hate everyone. I hate everything. I am sick of being pushed around by people who somehow believe they have some sort of authority over me. I’m sick of being used and lied to by people who tell me they are my friends. I don’t need these people’s shit. I refuse to take it anymore, I don’t need their fucked up attitudes, and most of all I don’t need their lies. Fuck them all ... scum! I feel the need to withdraw myself more and more from this society. I don’t want to use my energy to compete. I’d rather use my energy to lead them to their deaths because their way is weak and dishonest. I have no interest in being part of their game.

005 12.22.85 Westwood, CA: 5:21 am. I just got home from working my first gig with Ratman. It was at a place called the Dirtbox, located in a dusty old warehouse on the outskirts of Downtown L.A. The show was Sonic Youth and the Swans. It was very cool. I’d never seen either band before and they were both amazingly mighty. It was eerie to see dust floating down from the rafters while the entire room vibrated from the awesome low end produced by Ratman’s sound system. The work I’m doing consists mainly of loading and unloading equipment, setting it up, breaking it down, hooking it up, etc. I don’t know anything about sound systems or the kind of stuff Ratman knows, but he’s going to teach me what I need to know. What I’m doing is mainly grunt work anyway. It’s not the greatest kind of work but what makes it worth it is that I get to tour the U.S., meet different types of people, learn new things and get out of my old environment. For the next six months I am committed to it. I’ve got a feeling this tour is going to be the best thing I’ve ever done.

006 12.23.85 Downtown, LA: I used to think that sitting around all day doing almost nothing and getting paid for it was amusing. Now as I sit here in some sleazy lost part of downtown L.A working extra on a TV movie called North & South I find it hard to be amused. Sure I’m making $11.00 an hour for hanging out in this Civil War wardrobe but I need more out of life than this. This is worthless work and I feel as though I should be doing something more honest and creative with my time. Here I am, wasting my energy being a piece of human furniture in someone’s idea of art. No wonder I spin off into negative thoughts. It’s my way of dealing with the boredom of this job. This is death by stagnation. I don’t know how people can be professional extras and be happy. I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here and go on the road.

007 12.24.85 Westwood, CA: This afternoon I went to the Westside Pavilion shopping mall to buy some last minute Christmas presents. I walked around worrying about what to buy and priced a few things like this one sweater I thought would be nice for my dad until the salesgirl told me it was five hundred bucks. I couldn’t believe her, I thought it was fifty bucks. Suddenly I came to the realization that I didn’t have to buy anything. I didn’t have to be a part of the consumer process. The whole Christmas thing started to seem like a big farce. It’s another attempt by greedy pigs to commercialize an idea that has nothing to do with buying five hundred dollar sweaters. I sat down and watched all the consumers running around dressed in the latest trendy outfits spending their money to support the Christmas hype. They were all into the spirit of the occasion with money in their wallets and gift purchases on their minds. The longer I sat there watching them, the more certain I became that this is just another game they play with each other. It’s nonsense, a lie fueled by their money. It became funny to me and I began to laugh. I walked out of that shopping mall unreality feeling like a great weight had been lifted from my mind. It was time for me to leave Christmas hype land. Christmas has lost it’s meaning for me and I’ll never believe in it again. All it ever was to me was presents anyway and that’s not right. The less I have in common with the bullshit, the better off I am. Amen.

008 12.26.85 Westwood, CA: I am surrounded by shit. I am covered with human waste, smeared over my entire body, stuffed into every opening. My eyes see nothing, my ears are clogged and my nose is overwhelmed with the stink of it all. Other people’s shit, my shit, there is no difference anymore. I’m living inside it, slowly suffocating. I am becoming a pile of human shit. I am totally and completely without worth. I am rotting every second. Deteriorating, falling apart, dying. My eyes are going blind. I feel myself dissolving inside myself. My body is feeding on itself, muscles slowly, painfully being eaten and digested. I am turning into a zombie. A skeleton that can’t die. My heart has stopped beating. It is shriveling up like a dried up prune. Cuts do not bleed or heal. My blood has clotted and hardened and I no longer bleed. When I shit, my intestines are all that come out, slowly, painfully, a little bit at a time. I have lost my hearing and my smell. I am dead but unable to die. My body is dead but I am still alive. I cannot be killed, there is nothing more of me to kill. Thoughts swirl relentlessly through my head. I haven’t slept for three weeks. My head is pounding with pain and I’ve lost the ability to concentrate or think straight. I bring everyone who comes in contact with me down. Everything around me falls apart, nothing works, people hurt themselves trying to help me and I can’t help laughing at their pain. The whites of my eyes have turned a dull urine yellowish color. My skin has dried up and turned whitish gray and flakes off when touched. My movements are slow and labored, I have very little energy. I see things that other people do not, I hear things that they cannot. Everything is communicating to me. The radio and television talk only to me, about me. Everything they say is for me. Everything is about me. I am completely possessed. I am the center of the universe. There is no escape, no hope, no savior. I am in hell going down even further.

009 12.27.85 Westwood, CA: I’m stuck to my bed unable to move at all. Whatever I’m feeling has got my mind paralyzed. All I can do is lie here and think about the way I feel.

010 1.14.86 Tucson, AZ: 9:30 pm. I’m up in the loft of the Rat Truck. It’s inside the truck, Ratman built it to sleep in and get away from everything. It’s nice and peaceful in here and no one is bugging me. Meanwhile the sound system has been set up inside and the bands will start shortly. Gone plays first, then Painted Willie and then Black Flag. The name of this club is Nino’s and it’s kind of a small redneck style dive. I think Black Flag ought to be playing bigger and better places than this but maybe this will change as the tour progresses. I seem to be getting along fine with everyone even though I don’t really know any of them yet. The work itself is alright and not that hard, just driving the truck, loading equipment into clubs, setting it up, breaking it down and loading it back into the truck. I also bounce stage during Black Flag which is kind of weird for me. Rollins told me that I’ll probably have gotten into about ten fights before this tour is over. I don’t feel like getting my ass kicked so I’ve got to switch my mind into a destructive mode.

The guys in Painted Willie are cool even though I don’t know them well. I talked to them a little bit earlier. There’s thirteen of us on tour and I’m learning a great deal from watching how all these guys do their thing. I’m especially impressed with Greg Ginn. He is definitely special, he’s so focused and into his trip that it just blows my mind. He’s an inspiration to me. This tour is just starting, so I’ve got to establish some sort of system to keep my trip running smoothly. It’s going to be a very interesting to see what happens and what kind of experiences come up. I’m still amazed at Ratman’s ability to make anything work no matter what it is. I’ve never met anyone quite like Ratman before. His combination of intelligence and intensity is mindboggling.

011 1.15.86 El Paso, TX: 8:15 pm. I’m in the truck outside this sleazy little hovel called Sound Seas. What a fucking armpit! It looks like an abandoned garage that some glue damaged stoners turned into their clubhouse. El Paso, TX. Hometown of the vicious cold blooded satan rocker Richard Ramirez. He lived here before he drifted into L.A. and went on his killing spree last summer. Angel Dust, AC/DC and Satan, what influences. I wonder if he lived close by here. If he did I can see why he left. All I can say is I’m glad I don’t live here.

Last night after the show and during it I started feeling real spaced out and depressed. It got so bad that I could barely talk to anyone. I hate when I get that way. I start feeling so fucked up that all I can do is dwell on how lame I am. When I get like that all my weaknesses come out and stare at me and laugh in my face. I must fight that feeling and snap out of it as quick as I can. The show’s starting now so I’m going in.

012 1.17.86 San Antonio, TX: 8:30 pm. Sitting in the loft parked out back of the Cameo Theater. This is a nice clean medium sized hall, more like the type of place I expected Black Flag to be playing. Load-in went quickly and easily and I feel more confident about everything now. A few days ago I was bumming on life but now I’m feeling good. Earlier this afternoon a very cool thing happened. Rollins and I were walking from the hotel up E. Commerce St. to check out the club when we stopped into a bookstore. There was a stack of old Life magazines on the floor and the first thing we did was look through them to find the one with Charlie on the cover. That one is almost impossible to find in L.A. but I had a strong feeling it was going to be there. I said something about it to Rollins but he said that we probably wouldn’t find it. My instinct told me it was there so I kept looking while Rollins went off to look for some books. The feeling in my head kept getting stronger and after looking through about four stacks, wham! There it was, Charlie staring me straight in the face. My instincts are always right, these type of things happen over and over. Also, Rollins found me a copy of Heart Of Darkness which is a great story and fits right into this whole trip.

013 1.18.86 Houston, TX: 1:20 am. Tonight’s gig was at a heavy metal styler club. It was nice inside and fairly large, probably the largest club so far. I slept in the truck during the show so I don’t know what it was like. Everyone said it was good. Rollins broke his right wrist by hitting some guy in the head. I had to sleep because Ratman and I drove one hundred miles out of our way before realizing we were headed in the wrong direction. Ratman was driving and when we found out he became so upset that I had to drive. He turned on the Swans live show from L.A. full blast on the stereo and pounded on the dashboard with a drumstick along with it. Then he spray painted his face white and took all the garbage on the floor of the cab and lit it on fire. We drove down the freeway with a fire on the floor of the cab and when it became to big to control he opened the door and kicked it out. He shouted and slobbered for about 50 miles. It was an awesome sight, Ratman is hilarious. I drove the next 400 miles feeling tired but we made it in time for load-in.

Tomorrow we head for Louisiana for a few days and then onto Florida. This is a great way to see the United States. People here seem very conservative and uptight. I guess that’s how things are in redneck land.

014 1.20.86 Scott, LA: 4:40 pm. This is a small little town just west of Baton Rouge. Tonight’s club is a little bar called the Triangle Club. It should be interesting to see what type of people turn up in this place. This is like some bar you’d expect to end up in if you were in the movie Deliverance. Hillbilly land.

I am having problems relating to the other people on the tour. I can load-in and out and set up and break down the sound system easy enough but after that I have nothing to say to anyone. I don’t know if I’m fucked up or what my problem is. Rollins is the only one here that I can talk to at anytime and feel comfortable but he’s busy doing his own thing. I see some patterns starting to develop within the group. There is a tiny bit of tension between Ratman and me because we are not coming from the same place at all. I still