Alice Bag's "Violence Girl" at Modern Times/ ALICE BAG AT RADAR!

Tomorrow nights RADAR will be featuring another performance and reading from Alice Bag, so if you missed her first visit, here's your chance to see the magic happen.

This is a repost of what I wrote after Alice's reading in December at Modern Times. And now she's back! RADAR + Alice Bag? This is gonna be great.

RePost:
[Not an excerpt from Hairdresser on Fire. Not a review, either. I meant to write this weeks ago. Forgive any mispellings...freewrite. Not sure how to classify, but if Alice Bag comes to your town to read from Violence Girl- GO.]

While the "This Is Boston, NOT LA" compilation was steady wearing down the needle of my teenage record player, the back of the NewPaper's movie section announced midnight showings of "The Decline of Western Civilization" at The Avon.

The LA punk scene didn't interest me, it was so far away. England was closer. And I'd never live in California anyways, right? If I had been able to go to LA, it wouldn't have been to check the scene, it would've been to move to Gilligan's Island where I've always wanted to live. I'd share a hut with Ginger, because she had the best make-up. Or maybe do some hut-hopping. Professor one night, Lovey and Thurston the next.
[I have since found my own Gilligan's Island. It lies in the Mexican State of Quintana Roo, on the Mayan Riviera. I will move my family there, and we will live under palapas. I will proudly accept my charge to rescue Sea Turtles, grabbing the torch passed to me from Elio, the tortuga doula. More on that later.]

So when it came to this now legendary documentary on the LA Punk Scene, I skipped it.
I didn't go, and I've still never seen the entire film.
But I did buy the record, if only for the pictures on the cover.
[Note to younger readers: Before MTV, many people used to buy records by unknown artists based soley on the cover art. This gamble could lead to a discovery that changes your life, as was my case with Elvis Costello's "Armed Foces", or it could bring you to your knees in regret, as did my early exposure to Uriah Heep's "Demons and Wizards". ]

Whittling through side one of Decline..., I was left sorta flat, not particularly riled by the pre-Henry Rollins Black Flag set (this sentiment goes double for Black Flag with Henry Rollins...I can't be the only person who doesn't give a shit what Henry Rollins thinks- about anything).

I was starting to lose interest until the voices of Exene Cervenka and John Doe of X egged me on to keep listening. I read the liner notes. Now we were getting somewhere.

I will say that I liked the Circle Jerks set- even though, years later in Atlanta, a dreadlocked Keith Morris lectured me from the stage, pontificating from his perch about being peaceful when he didnt even see what happened, forever erasing my good memories of  "Red Tape".
(Watch your fuckin' mouth, Keith Morris. You didn't even see what happened.)
See? See how easy it is to get distracted by these macho punk assholes? (yes, I just called Keith Morris "macho", showing how low my tolerance is, and speaking volumes to my perception.)

Once the macho assholes were done, somewhere in the middle of side two, came the opening crunch of Gluttony by The Alice Bag Band, stopping me in my tracks.

I sat there clutching my eye pencil,  not sure whether to jump up and down or lay prostrate before the record player. I couldn't believe what i was hearing, this female lead, more powerful than all of the LA dudes put together.

Gluttony, for me, has to be the most widely relatable song on the record. Not bitching about Beverly Hills and Century City or how many sluts got fucked, Gluttony made the entire record worthy of a previously withheld dustcover. I hardly got past the track after that first listen. I would pick up the needle and reset it into the grains of the vinyl as soon as the song ended. Over and over. Repeat.

Jump to a few weeks ago. Alice Armandariz  a/k/a Alice Bag gave two San Francisco readings from her new book "Violence Girl: From East LA Rage to Hollywood Stage".

Mixing spoken excerpts from her book with musical selections from the time period of the chapter, she held the packed Modern Times hostage with her grace, her giant brain, and her sincere wit.

Her first selection was about being a young girl in East LA, collecting Barbies but having no Kens to go with them. As a lousy hairdresser, I loved this piece. (Bag's Barbie did have a boyfriend, and certainly got some action, but you need to buy the book, no spoilers).

Another excerpt was from her teenage years, about becoming a cheerleader, which is right up my alley; I love stories like this.
The juxtaposition of the act of cheerleading with this bomb of Chicana feminism was hilarious, showing the subtle dashed hopes of growing up different... of growing up smart. Bag seemed truly horrified to learn that this cheerleading team was in place to cheer on the boys, not to tumble competitively with the girls. The resulting lightbulb over her head shows how early she embodied the take-no-prisoners feminist ideals that are her hallmark.

Her third excerpt exposed a funny and loving  power push with a visiting Sid Vicious, moving along the timeline to her founding position in the LA Punk scene.

With a small, adorable accompanying band, she played a beautiful Ranchero song, Elton John's "Love Lies Bleeding" and finished with The Bag's "Babylonian Gorgon".

At one point she said (I'm paraphrasing):

You can all probably tell that I'm not the best guitarist, but I play guitar. And I think I'm probably as good a writer as I am a guitarist. But I think it's important to push the limits of everything. That is what I'm rooted in. I wanted to write a book. So I said Fuck It, and i wrote a book. Do what you want to do.

I believe that. Say Fuck It. Shift the paradigm.
You are a writer because you write; you are a musician because you make music; you an artist because you make art.

And, like Alice Bag, you are revolutionary because you are part of a revolution.