Ron Reyes is having a party and you’re invited.
By Kristina Mameli, the Skinny
From his chair in a busy Vancouver coffee shop, a humble Ron Reyes laughs at the notion of anyone extensively researching him for the purposes of an article. “There’s probably not a whole lot out there on me,” the legend muses. “I mean, some of it’s true and some of it’s not; but I guess that goes for everybody.”
The transplanted local sat down with the Skinny to fill in the blanks on his storied past and reflect on his many musical accomplishments as his 50th birthday bash July 24th at the Rickshaw fast approaches.
But how did it all begin? The Wikipedia’s a little thin…
In the late 70’s, Reyes was living in South Bay, California, listening to the likes of Alice Cooper, David Bowie and of course, Black Sabbath—anything with an edge. He also discovered Kiss and Queen, luckily managing to avoid anything Fleetwood Mac-esque at all costs.
Not much was going on in the South Bay area quite yet, but a friend soon took him to what would become a haven for punk rock in LA: the Masque. “I started going to places like that and seeing things that were just really blowing my mind,” remembers Reyes. “I just immediately fell in love with all that stuff because it was totally accessible.”
Reyes slowly started to meet people, forming a close friendship with Dez Cadena. “We started jamming together,” says Reyes. “And that’s when the do it yourself kind of thing started happening. So there was a transition from being a fan to—oh! I can actually pick up this bass and write a song! It just kind of happened. Right time, right place I guess.”
Redd Kross—a drummer by chance.
As the 70’s drew to a close, Reyes found himself foraying into the world of drumming. “I was living at this place called the Church, which was like a real party/hangout place,” recalls Reyes. “And I picked up this drum set from this girl and had no intentions of becoming a drummer—I just had it in a corner for anybody that wanted to play.”
Seeing the kit, Redd Kross, known as the Tourists at the time, naturally assumed he was a drummer. “They said ‘hey, do you want to play drums?’” he laughs. “And I said, ‘well, I’m not a drummer, but yeah, sure! I’ll play!’ I didn’t know the first thing about really playing, but they didn’t care and it worked.”
Black Flag: the Jealous Again EP.
How Reyes came to front the seminal Black Flag when Keith Morris left to form the Circle Jerks is somewhat of a mystery. Even to him. “I don’t remember,” he laughs. “We were just friends and then one day it was just like, ‘Keith’s not in the band anymore, do you want to join?’ Sure, why not?”
It was a priority for the remaining members of Black Flag to find someone to replace Morris that knew exactly where they were coming from. “I think it was important to find somebody who was almost family. I’d never sung before, but they didn’t care,” smiles Reyes. “To this day, I don’t really know how to read music or anything like that. I just pick things up and play by ear—and that was the beauty of it back then.”
Reyes’ incarnation of the Flag was also the first to tour the West Coast. What instantly resonated with him was the difference between scenes and how accommodating and accepting they all were.
“I was only in Black Flag for a very short period of time, but we did a lot of stuff: we started touring, we started recording, the movie [The Decline of Western Civilization] came out, and we were working towards an album.”
Recording the famed Jealous Again EP proved to be frustrating for Reyes. “The only time I’d recorded before was with Dez in his garage going back and forth with cassette players and the first EP with Redd Kross.” Reyes was more comfortable on stage interacting with the audience than in a recording booth. “All those guys just wanted to make sure that what we did was good. Not like No Exit up here—that was like, we’re going to record a record and it’s going to cost us five dollars and we’re going to do it in fifteen minutes; let’s go!” he jokes. “Black Flag was far more methodical than that.”
The process was further complicated when Reyes quit the band before the EP was finished. “I was getting kind of fed up with the scene,” says Reyes. “Violence and aggression—it wasn’t for me. I was more into the music and being able to hear the band and see the band. And the night that I quit Black Flag we played this place and I really felt like it didn’t matter what we were doing up there; people really didn’t care. They were just there to vent—that’s the only reason I quit the band.”
There was no animosity between band members, and when Reyes was asked to help finish the recording, he did so gladly.
Making the move to Vancouver.
Reyes was impressed by the raw power of bands like DOA and the contrast between what was going on in Vancouver and what was happening in Hollywood. “I just really connected with the scene here,” he says. “There seemed to be diversity. Think about like the Modernettes and DOA being on the same gig. That kind of says it all right there. And the idea of a fuck band was completely new to me. I just fell in love with it. Vancouver was very welcoming…it was a little bit more naïve and was just fresh.”
Focusing his energy on raising a family of four in the suburbs, a role that landed him a part in the forthcoming Punk Rock Dad documentary based on Jim Lindberg from Pennywise’s book of the same name, Reyes only recently realized the impact of his music. “One of my kids came home and said ‘dad, were you in some punk bands?’ I guess he had spoken to somebody at school. It certainly caught my attention that still, after so many years, it meant something.”
“I never had any sort of agenda to save the world or smash the state,” he continues. “It was really just about having fun. And sure, we said some things and did some things that I guess are meaningful, but there’s been a social aspect to music since day one. For me it was just family; it was a tribe for the first time in my life.”
Crash Bang Crunch Pop!
In the early 80’s, after a brief stint with Jim Cummins in Braineater and Kill City, Reyes moved back to California with Steven Douglas Laviolette, a band mate from Braineater, and started Fun House with Duff from Guns N’ Roses. Fun House didn’t really fit in with the glam scene that was rapidly evolving in LA. “I had no teeth and brown skin—I didn’t look like a girl, right?” jokingly reasons Reyes. But Crash Bang Crunch Pop would come from that and he would pour his influences completely into the project and write the majority of the material for the first time.
Greg Ginn from Black Flag soon signed the band to Cruz Records. Unfortunately, the band broke up just before the album was completed. “Greg’s looking for the tapes,” says Reyes. “He thinks that they exist somewhere, but it doesn’t seem to be high on his list to find them; although he’s promised me that he would look.”
That’s in print now Mr. Ginn.
According to Reyes, former members of the band have also expressed interest in simply rerecording the album, which he maintains is a possibility.
The Ron Reyes Band: a gig you don’t want to miss.
Ron Reyes’ birthday party is shaping up to be the must attend event of the summer, something he never intended to happen. He says he would have been perfectly content to jump up on any stage one night and belt out a couple, but Little Guitar Army’s Doug Smith instead took the helm and began orchestrating the soiree. Reyes, who openly admits to hating the business side of the music industry, really trusted Smith to put the event together. “Doug’s just been so awesome,” he says. “I said to him recently, ‘man, if you were around back in the day, I would have never quit music.’”
When putting together the Ron Reyes Band, it was important to Reyes that everyone be local. And what he ended up with was an all star roster of good friends and extremely talented musicians: Kevin Rose from Crash Bang Crunch Pop and Kill City, Tony Baloney, who Reyes played with in the Bludgeoned Pigs, and Jon Doe from the Scramblers on guitar, rounded out by Scott Beadle on drums.
The band, whose rehearsals have been going extremely well, will be playing a mixture of old and new material, even including some Black Flag gems. “A lot of it’s just celebrating the stuff that kind of got me here,” says Reyes. “With a focus on stuff that I’ve always wanted to sing by some of my favourite bands from Vancouver. I don’t want to really say too much…”
Reyes hinted that a few guest musicians will be on hand for the festivities.
“This is really about celebrating Vancouver. I can’t tell you how much that’s what this means to me. It’s celebrating my life in Vancouver.”
Filling the bill for the event started out naturally enough. “I was invited by John Armstrong [Buck Cherry] to do some background vocals on the Modernettes upcoming album,” says Reyes, who then asked him if the Modernettes would join the bill. “As soon as they were on board it was like ok, now we’ve got the nucleus of something that could be really cool.” From there, Reyes fell in love with Little Guitar Army, old friend Jim Cummins aka I, Braineater volunteered, and Smith turned Reyes on to the ever energetic Jolts.
Starting in the afternoon with an invitation only potluck know as “Vancouver Punk Rock Reunion #2 (the rAging continues…),” July 24th will feature art and photography from Bev Davies, Mad Dog and Jim Cummins as well as a VDOC screening of archival footage after the bands have wrapped up.
The burning question: will the Ron Reyes Band be more than a one night attraction?
“There were definitely no plans for it to continue when it started,” Reyes says somewhat shirking the question. “But most of the guys in the band would love to continue… our focus right now is the birthday party.”
Reyes says that recording opportunities have already been offered in Germany and California. “At this point I’m definitely not into hopping in a van and doing a beer money and couch type tour,” he reasons. “But if good opportunities come up, sure why not?”
“I really have come to grips with the idea that this whole thing’s not confined or defined by your age, or anything really, as long as you still have some vibrancy and some energy—and it seems like there’s no shortage of that right now.”
Monday, July 26, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Reviews: Bloodied But Unbowed aka the Punk Movie
By Kristina Mameli, the Skinny
The world premiere of director Susanne Tabata’s film, Bloodied But Unbowed, brought generations of punkers in droves to the Granville 7. Approximately three-and-a-half years in the making, this lovingly compiled ode takes an incredibly in-depth and articulate look at Vancouver’s early punk scene through the eyes of the people that lived it. The first of its kind, this necessary film will inevitably serve as a historical and educational document of sorts that future generations will grow to revere.
After a lengthy and somewhat unorthodox introduction (complete with ducking flying skate decks and other various favours hurled at the audience) and minor technical difficulties, the film started from the very beginning: DOA’s now infamous Canada Day gig is Stanley Park, 1978. From there, it transitioned smoothly into topics ranging from politics to everyday life in the scene.
The film was dynamically put together and pits classic interviews with key players against more recent interviews with the same, interspersed with vintage footage, stitched together with edgy finesse. Members of DOA, the Subhumans, the Pointed Sticks, the Furies, the Dishrags, the Young Canadians, the Modernettes and many more provide very telling insights into what initially drew people to punk and what led to what was arguably its demise—or perhaps hiatus. For contrast, the American perspective on the burgeoning scene in Vancouver was provided by the likes of Keith Morris, Ron Reyes, Henry Rollins, Greg Hetson and Duff McKagen.
Bridged by the narration of the Skinny’s own Billy Hopeless, the interview subjects shared great stories and memories that were in no danger of coming off as nostalgic—quite the feat when dealing with subject matter from well over 30 years ago. There were however, a few incidents remembered slightly differently. The blanks were quite humourously filled in by the conflicting memories, and laughter often rang out in the theatre.
Amazing archival images of a young Joe Shithead, Gerry Hannah and Brian Goble in grade school, and later as long-haired hippie teens, was incredible to see and truly put the timeline in perspective.
A big black box appeared wherever Chuck Biscuits’ face should’ve been, presumably because of lack of permission to use his image. Bev Davies (whose classic shots appeared in a photo montage), handed out buttons featuring his face to a lucky few who wore them proudly.
What the film made quite apparent was that the early punk scene was a place for those who felt out of place. It was a community that fed off of a combination of the art scene and discontent. Places such as the Plaza and the Smilin’ Buddha were remembered fondly as havens for that community.
The film’s slightly more light-hearted and reflective tone took a bit of a turn downwards with Gerry Hannah’s incredibly candid, brave and revealing honesty surrounding the direct action of the Squamish Five and Art Bergmann’s surrounding drugs as his muse. The film speculated that what arguably put the scene on hold was drug use and the deaths of those in the prime of their lives. The later part of the film was very enlightening, heart wrenching and above all honest.
Despite the turn, the film landed back on the music as the credits rolled—and rightly so; though it did feel a little unfinished. Perhaps because as long as bands like DOA, the Subhumans and the Pointed Sticks continue to trudge on, then the scene of yore is far from dead. In the end, there was a sense of hope. Perhaps the story isn’t quite over yet.
The 75 minute film will be condensed into a one hour version which will air just as uncensored on Knowledge Network in the fall. www.thepunkmovie.com
The world premiere of director Susanne Tabata’s film, Bloodied But Unbowed, brought generations of punkers in droves to the Granville 7. Approximately three-and-a-half years in the making, this lovingly compiled ode takes an incredibly in-depth and articulate look at Vancouver’s early punk scene through the eyes of the people that lived it. The first of its kind, this necessary film will inevitably serve as a historical and educational document of sorts that future generations will grow to revere.
After a lengthy and somewhat unorthodox introduction (complete with ducking flying skate decks and other various favours hurled at the audience) and minor technical difficulties, the film started from the very beginning: DOA’s now infamous Canada Day gig is Stanley Park, 1978. From there, it transitioned smoothly into topics ranging from politics to everyday life in the scene.
The film was dynamically put together and pits classic interviews with key players against more recent interviews with the same, interspersed with vintage footage, stitched together with edgy finesse. Members of DOA, the Subhumans, the Pointed Sticks, the Furies, the Dishrags, the Young Canadians, the Modernettes and many more provide very telling insights into what initially drew people to punk and what led to what was arguably its demise—or perhaps hiatus. For contrast, the American perspective on the burgeoning scene in Vancouver was provided by the likes of Keith Morris, Ron Reyes, Henry Rollins, Greg Hetson and Duff McKagen.
Bridged by the narration of the Skinny’s own Billy Hopeless, the interview subjects shared great stories and memories that were in no danger of coming off as nostalgic—quite the feat when dealing with subject matter from well over 30 years ago. There were however, a few incidents remembered slightly differently. The blanks were quite humourously filled in by the conflicting memories, and laughter often rang out in the theatre.
Amazing archival images of a young Joe Shithead, Gerry Hannah and Brian Goble in grade school, and later as long-haired hippie teens, was incredible to see and truly put the timeline in perspective.
A big black box appeared wherever Chuck Biscuits’ face should’ve been, presumably because of lack of permission to use his image. Bev Davies (whose classic shots appeared in a photo montage), handed out buttons featuring his face to a lucky few who wore them proudly.
What the film made quite apparent was that the early punk scene was a place for those who felt out of place. It was a community that fed off of a combination of the art scene and discontent. Places such as the Plaza and the Smilin’ Buddha were remembered fondly as havens for that community.
The film’s slightly more light-hearted and reflective tone took a bit of a turn downwards with Gerry Hannah’s incredibly candid, brave and revealing honesty surrounding the direct action of the Squamish Five and Art Bergmann’s surrounding drugs as his muse. The film speculated that what arguably put the scene on hold was drug use and the deaths of those in the prime of their lives. The later part of the film was very enlightening, heart wrenching and above all honest.
Despite the turn, the film landed back on the music as the credits rolled—and rightly so; though it did feel a little unfinished. Perhaps because as long as bands like DOA, the Subhumans and the Pointed Sticks continue to trudge on, then the scene of yore is far from dead. In the end, there was a sense of hope. Perhaps the story isn’t quite over yet.
The 75 minute film will be condensed into a one hour version which will air just as uncensored on Knowledge Network in the fall. www.thepunkmovie.com
Monday, July 12, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
