Punk icons GBH entertained several generations of fans at the accomadating and fun Garden Grove, CA-based open-air Garden Amp venue on Friday night. In tow were several up-and-coming or established younger acts to keep an eye on and to help the Birmingham baddies celebrate the City Babys Revenge 40th Anniversary US Tour in style. The all-ages event was an almost pitch-perfect celebration of punk’s forever appeal and staying power.
The day started out very lousy for me as my diabetes had kept me up all night with barely any sleep self-monitoring some bad sugar lows that wouldn’t quit. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to make it. After some rest and treating myself to a delicious mushroom taco lunch at Sammy Hagar’s epic new Cabo Wabo Beach Club and a slow drive past a VW Bus convention or something that was happening on the beautiful Huntington Beach waterfront, my spirits were lifted from Red Rocker memorabilia and delicious grub enough to embolden me to make the quite different punk show.
To be fair, the sweet little green park next to the Garden Amp venue is a far cry from the cover art of City Baby Attacked By Rats, but it was awesome to see so many older, craggy-faced leather punks and cool pink-haired moms mixing about with scampering teens in GBH shirts and everyone in between. Everyone was fucking stoked to be there. The venue is an experience but still intimate enough. I can’t imagine how insane the upcoming Indecision Records at 30 fest is gonna be at this venue with Unbroken, Adamantium, Beyond Repair, and more.
Things kicked off with a mohawked set from The Modifiers. The band got things started with serviceable and melodic punk that was engaging if not breaking the mold. The band had an ease on stage together that showed this wasn’t their first day out of the gate as punks and were a good start to the night. A medley of punk hits from Bad Religion to Minor Threat kept repeating on loop between bands. My advice to the venue is please remove “I Am Not A Loser” by The Descendants as during the start of Pride and in a resurgent time of LGBTQ being targeted, I really don’t want to hear some old edge lord song (even if it was actually about jocks or whatever) saying “Mr. Butt Fuck” and “Homo” three or four times between different bands when I am the only person in a noticeably pro-trans, Operation Enby shirt. Descendants need to just retire that song already, fuck just changing the words.
To his credit, Colin Abrahall of GBH was watching the opening bands. Lots of elder punkers with a chip on their shoulder might act like rock stars and be too douchey to do that, so it was cool Colin was hanging out and also let like forty beaming fans take a picture with him.
Things really kicked up a notch when Niis from LA took the stage, determined to make an impression. The buzz band combines the novelty of a great Frankenstein lurching axe man with chunky Gibson guitar distortion (not so common in punk as Fender) with galloping grooves and the theatrical charm and menace of snarling vocalist Mimi SanDoe. She is a natural-born punk front person and was a blur of energy, the band’s “Fuck You Boy” probably the most well-received of their ferocious set. Sometimes things just combine for a perfect, odd chemistry (See Pupil Slicer’s Coalesce-esque mathcore adding ethereal Mew melodies on some of their new ‘Blossom’ release for an example). In the case of Niis, the balance between catchy melody and alley cat prowl paired with punk and glam and roll strut is a potent alchemy.
Svetlanas gave the most anarchic performance of the show, shooting the energy even higher and getting the crowd dancing to their comedic and campy variety of punk. Olga was downright feral, occupying this highwire of lightning-in-a-bottle frequency where she can stare at the crowd and make them feel like something really insane is about to happen. Whether getting the crowd to point their middle fingers at the sky or emphasizing “This Song Is About My Fucking Life”, she had her foot on the crowd’s attention with ease. The band had their full line up there and so Nick Oliveri was pacing behind her in a Black Flag shirt, smirking and howling with insane glee.
Svetlanas sounded road sharp, and Diste in particular played his ass off. Highlights included pit favorite “People Suck”, new banger “The Alien’s Blues”, a careening “Spit On Your Mother’s Face” and the intense and funky closer “God8zCops” (awesome to hear blasting loud in a relatively conservative part of Orange County). I hadn’t seen them since back East during the Altercation Records days at tiny Upstate, NY dive bars, so it was a real treat for a newish West Coast transplant like me to witness them lay waste to a big venue.
GBH showed why they have such staying power. The band effortlessly hypnotized and caused the crowd to explode with energy, the dissonant guitar tones and raspy vocals embodying punk glory. “I Am The Hunted” and “Sickboy” were early show stoppers, Colin climbing up on top of the crowd for the former like a self-assured street prophet. “Maniac” and “Slit Your Own Throat” were also highlights for me. The funniest was when the band reminded the crowd that Sabbath are also from Birmingham (but not to clap too loud) and that they had “War Pigs” but GBH have a “War Dog”. Beer was flying everywhere, the pits were wild and the crowd even had stage divers thwart security amidst the epic set of classics.
The coolest thing was seeing the observable bond on stage between the punk veterans and knowing they know these songs in their bone marrow, so fucking rad and real.
The show was an inspiring and positive experience that had everyone grinning and feeling energized to take the messages of punk back into their own communities and lives. That, at the end of the day, is the coolest thing in the world and what this is all supposed to be about.
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WORDS AND PHOTOS BY MORGAN Y. EVANS