I Was Beat Up at an LA Punk Show
In the winter of 1981, I responded to a back page ad in Flipside, an independent zine covering the Los Angeles punk scene. The ad read: “Videographer needed to document local concert.” I’d spent several thousand dollars on a Panasonic video camera and was looking for ways to recoup the investment. I called the number and spoke with Boris, a man with a heavy Slavic accent. He told me to meet him on Wednesday night at the Stardust Ballroom, an aging big band venue at the corner of Western & Sunset in East Hollywood.
My job was to videotape several hours of punk rock performances and I would be paid $300. It sounded simple enough. I’d been a drummer in high school with a love for prog-rock bands like Genesis and King Crimson. I didn’t know much about punk. I’d heard the Sex Pistols and the Clash. I figured punk was just another outlet for teen angst and rebellion, the essence of all rock ’n’ roll.
The band list that night included the Circle Jerks, Fear and Black Flag. This was an epic LA show, though I didn’t know it at the time. Boris met me outside the venue. He wore a dark sharkskin suit and his face was pockmarked with acne scars. He introduced me to El Duce, a local punk legend who would be my chaperone. El Duce was a menacing singer for the “rape rock” band The Mentors. He was a bald Latino with a ratty beard, sanpaku eyes and a hairy belly protruding…
