Joe Keithley - I, Shithead: A Life in Punk

I, SHITHEAD

a life in punk

JOEY KEITHLEY

I, SHITHEAD: A LIFE IN PUNK

Copyright 2003 by Joe Keithley

Second printing: 2004

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form by any means graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may use brief excerpts in a review, or in the case of photocopying in Canada, a license from Access Copyright.

ARSENAL PULP PRESS
#101-211 East Georgia St.
Vancouver, BC
Canada V6A 1Z6
arsenalpulp.com

The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the British Columbia Arts Council for its publishing program, and the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program for its publishing activities.

Design by Solo

Cover photography by Sylvie E. Thorne

Editing by Barbara Pulling

Copyright for photographs used in this book reside with their owners.

Printed and bound in Canada

National Library of Canada

Cataloguing in Publication Data

Keithley, Joe, 1956
I, Shithead : a life in punk / Joe Keithley.
Includes index.
ISBN 978-1-55152-148-0
EISBN 978-1-55152-309-5

1. Keithley, Joe, 1956 2. D.O.A. (Musical group) 3. Punk rock
musicians Canada Biography. I. Title.

ML420.K28A3 2003 782.42166092 C2003-911198-9

FOREWORD
Were All D.O.A.! by Jack Rabid

CHAPTER ONE
Growing Up

CHAPTER TWO
The Skulls

CHAPTER THREE
D.O.A.: The Beginnings

CHAPTER FOUR
The Early Days

CHAPTER FIVE
Punk Rock Pioneering

CHAPTER SIX
Something Better Change

CHAPTER SEVEN
Harcore 81

CHAPTER EIGHT
War on 45

CHAPTER NINE
Politics, Protest, Upheaval

CHAPTER TEN
1984

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lets Wreck the Party

CHAPTER TWELVE
The Endless Tour, Part Two

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
To Hell n Back

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
True Strong and Free

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
What the Fuck! Things Change!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Not So Quiet on the Western Front

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Murder

CHAPTER NINETEEN
Life After Death

Hey folks, it is a given in almost every rock band that there is some form of substance abuse. D.O.A. was no exception to this. At times, it was rampant with members of the band as well as people working with the band. At times, substance abuse led to people being forced out of playing and working with D.O.A. Ive lost too many friends to put up with that shit.

But out of respect for peoples privacy, and because stories about people being drunk and stoned are a waste of time, Im not going into detail about it in this book.

D.O.A. touring Hardcore 81. photo: Bev Davies

Jack Rabid

Joey Shithead is a Canadian institution. Hes the man who put the Canadian underground rock/punk scene on the map. Hes also damn interesting and hilariously funny. His perseverance in the face of constant chaos and adversity has been crucial to the survival and ultimate triumph of his band D.O.A. (Well, that plus more than his share of Molsons, Mooseheads, Labatts, the occasional American swill, and lots of stronger brew overseas.) Were it not for Joe, most of us in the East Coast wouldnt even know the geography of Western Canada, let alone the musical riches of the city of Vancouver.

Joey Shithead? Thats Joey Keithley to you! Whereas I still get to call him the old name my rights are grandfathered, kind of like the old hockey players who played without helmets after the rule change. Then again, the one time my wife and I visited him in Vancouver, it seemed as if he knew every passerby in town, as one and all alike called out from across the street, Hey, Shithead! Some things you cant outlive.

Anyway, I first met the Mr Shithead in question over two decades ago (May 8, 1981) when the original lineup of D.O.A. made its third foray to New York. (And what a rewarding acquaintance that has been since, both personally and musically!) I introduced myself to him in-between their two long, hardworking, awe-inspiring sets that night at the Peppermint Lounge, a historic old joint off Times Square on 45th Street (of Joey Dee & the Starlighters 1961 #1 hit Peppermint Twist fame). Nowadays, amazingly enough, D.O.A. sells a DVD called Greatest Shits with vivid footage from that night, showing them playing a typically hellacious version of Get Out of My Life. I just about fell down laughing when I watched this recently, and saw the back of my 19-year-old head and torso as it pogoed senselessly in my customary place, at the front of the six-foot stage! But, given the blistering assault captured so well in that footage, who could have done anything else?

Id seen this incredible band before, though I was still stuck in high school in the suburbs. I still thought of touring musicians as grand exalted wizards sequestered in magical, hidden, sidestage drawing rooms full of free alcohol and girls, and had no access. But by 1981 I was in college and in a local punk band myself. I was also putting out my own fanzine. So by 1981, I thought it nothing to just saunter right into the sanctum, where they were indeed consuming copious amounts of their beer allowance along with their old West Coast friend Jello Biafra in town for his own smokin Dead Kennedys shows. While giving Joe issue five of Big Takeover, I told him that the copy of the brand new D.O.A. second LP Hardcore 81 hed thrown off the stage into the crowd had been wrestled out of my hand by some jerk twice my size. (The cover got all twisted and bent, served the jerk right.) So Joe promptly just handed me another one. Hey, thanks Joe! I think that copy is worth a few hundred bucks now. What a pal!

I wish there was some way to convey how truly stunning a D.O.A. show was back then. There was only one other band in the world who could touch them, and that was the (early) Bad Brains, who thankfully shared New York stages with D.O.A. twice. The effect of the original lineup of Joe on guitar and lead vocals, Dave Gregg on second guitar, Randy Rampage on bass, and Chuck Biscuits on drums was like being thrown off a bridge and living to tell about it. They were an absolute whirlwind of lightning guitars, gut-smacking bass lines, and the hottest drumming Ive ever seen in twenty-five years of live concerts. (I never saw The Whos Keith Moon, but from movies like The Kids Are Alright, I swear the young Biscuits gave the young Moon a run for his money.) No one could forget the bands raw abandon on stage: I think Rampage leaped so high so many times he nearly hit the balcony overhang to his right. And clad in his usual Airborne T -shirt, Joe was putting his considerable chest into his vocals, as Gregg was bent over (he appeared to be giving birth) from playing so hard.

And D.O.A. werent just hitting you over the head for fun. Its also impossible to forget the bands utter conviction. Whether playing politically aware anthems such as New Age or The Enemy in the best Clash and Stiff Little Fingers tradition, or belting out their equally charged hardcore thrash-rockers such as Slumlord (Its all laid out like a prison plot/Each little peasant with their plot/Slumlord your title fits your deed!), or showing off their