Making Fresh Fruit Go Bad Brains
“Don't wish to be normal. Wish to be yourself. To the hilt. Find out what you're best at, and develop it, and hopscotch your weaknesses. Wish to be great at whatever you are.”― Lois McMaster Bujold
Even though I hit the San Francisco music clubs young…starting around age 15…I was still too young to see the city’s greatest punk bands in their prime. I just missed seeing the Dead Kennedys by months (if I had known where to look, I might have been able to catch one of their last shows. DAMN DAMN). But I did not miss the impact they had on the city…and I am lucky enough to have befriended Jello Biafra early on, who is still a friend to this day.
Last week D. H. Peligro passed away, arguably the greatest drummer to play for the DKs (just watch this live show from 1984). His passing has, as these things tend to do, reminded us how great his musicianship was and how incredible the band was. Jello Biafra posted a self-penned tribute/obit for Peligro, which not only honors his bandmate, but pertinently explores some key parts of the history of the legendary punk band he furiously kept the beat for. The following are Jellos words (thank you for them!)…
D.H. PELIGRO: 1959-2022
Wow. I sure wasn’t expecting this.
I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.
Despite all he’d done to his mind and body, I never thought we would lose him first. He was not just our powerful unforgettable drummer. He was a gifted singer, songwriter, guitarist and so much more.
Even behind the drum kit, he had presence. All animal instinct, he never played anything quite the same way twice. He was a born showman.
Clear back in ‘79, I got a hot tip on a new Clash-inspired Punk band called SSI playing at the Deaf Club. As great as those guys played, it was the drummer that stole the show. A free spirited African American force of nature (The Punk scene is always too white), with this shit eating grin, a bandana on his head, and two kick drums (!) singing his ass off to “Keep a Knockin”, even sounding like Little Richard, as they closed the show.
Then they disappeared.
In 1981 we needed a new drummer. Somehow Ray found that guy from SSI. Or maybe Darren found him, I was never sure. From the first song, he was solid. Good kick and snare instinct, to make the songs go.
At the second audition, he was the one who’d done his homework, so hands down he was in. Ray said he’d learned “In-Sight” from hearing it once in his car on the radio.
Now we had more fire and feel than ever before, and the rest is history. He made the whole band 10 years younger, including all the damn carousing and pranks. Throwing food at passengers all over the plane on the way to Australia, til the pilot came back and threatened to arrest him.
In Rome, he and I pulled on all these cables outside the window of a music label office, not realizing we were yanking all these peoples’ TVs off their balconies, and out of their living rooms. We laughed about a lot of stuff the other guys didn’t. We had our own unique bond.
Friends who saw DH with the Chili Peppers at the Hollywood Bowl said he looked so happy up there. He looked so proud. But it was not to be.
When he finally hit bottom, he went clear back to St. Louis to clean up. I was the one who flew out to see him when he got out of rehab. Another friend came down from Chicago, and blew our minds with our first 90 minute baptism of Wesley Willis!
A year or two later, I was in Chicago working on Lard, and Wesley came over. I called DH, and put Wes on the phone, not telling Darren who he was. When talk shifted to the dangers of high fructose corn syrup, I knew he knew. When I got the phone back, he was laughing his ass off.
When he came north to visit, he’d stay with me; and we grew closer and deeper than ever before. The other guys begged off, and didn’t want to see him. I thought we would truly be brothers for life.
He put together his own band, called Peligro of course, with him on guitar and vocals, using a lot of the songs from his 80’s Punk power trio, the Hellations. Their Alternative Tentacles debut is by far the best solo album by any of the ex-DKs. Like “Fresh Fruit..” gone Bad Brains, in the best possible way. He had now spread his wings as a full fledged leader and songwriter. But more was not to be.
I still think they could have become so much more when they regrouped, than a 20+ year tribute band. They could have gotten a new drummer, Jon Lieb, maybe; and made DH the new frontman, on vocals, second guitar, spice up his songs, and more. Aim high and do it right, with a new name, new sound, and a whole new identity. Like the class way Bauhaus morphed into Love and Rockets, post Peter Murphy.
That could have been such a good band.
Damn. I get goose bumps just thinking about it..
So I hope Peligro is up there somewhere, getting his headbutts from Wesley at last. Forever free from any hellrides from high fructose corn syrup.
With much love and respect,
Jello Biafra
Very interesting interview with Steve Martin…as art collector. The art focused, the Indigenous Australian Art mentioned in the headline, upon is just incredible. He gets into the collector issue of having almost too much…and when enough is enough. Something that has been on my mind a lot lately with the records.
How the Hawaiian Steel Guitar Changed American Music
My friend Amanda Furlotti turned me on to this article. I know much about the history of the Hawaiian Steel Guitar and its impact not only on American music, but on music internationally. But this article digs into how it was introduced to the South…how the cross-culturalization took place….absolutely fascinating.
Why a Brilliant New Doc Will Make You Radically Rethink “Blaxploitation”
“In the Netflix doc (Is That Black Enough for You?!?), produced by Steven Soderbergh and David Fincher, (Elvis) Mitchell reexamines and exalts landmark Black cinema of the 1970s, heralding the artistic and entrepreneurial pioneers who not only shaped the decade, but also created blockbuster templates that white Hollywood lifted wholesale and used for its own success.”
An unearthed John Steinbeck column probes the strength of U.S. democracy
With election week around the corner, and the threats to our democracy that are in front of us, it is nice to hear some somewhat encouraging thoughts from one of the greatest writers of the 20th century: “Steinbeck believed that the United States was a force for good and fortunate in its ability to correct itself. He advocated a version of tough love hard to defend now, likening democracy to a child who "must be hurt constantly" to endure and regarding McCarthyism as a passing threat that would strengthen the country in the long run. ‘In resisting, we keep our democracy hard and tough and alive, its machinery intact. An organism untested soon goes flabby and weak,’ he wrote.”
50 Most Expensive Vinyl Records Ever Sold On Discogs.
Anyone want a Pink Floy UMMAGUMMA record for 14K+? And that is not even the most expensive record ever sold on discogs.
Ballad Of The Totems
By Oodgeroo Noonuccal
My father was Noonuccal man and kept old tribal way,
His totem was the Carpet Snake, whom none must ever slay;
But mother was of Peewee clan, and loudly she expressed
The daring view that carpet snakes were nothing but a pest.
Now one lived inside with us in full immunity,
For no one dared to interfere with father's stern decree:
A mighty fellow ten feet long, and as we lay in bed
We kids could watch him round a beam not far above our head.
Only the dog was scared of him, we'd hear its whines and growls,
But mother fiercely hated him because he took her fowls.
You should have heard her diatribes that flowed in angry torrents,
With words you'd never see in print, except in D.H. Lawrence.
"I kill that robber," she would scream, fierce as a spotted cat;
"You see that bulge inside of him? My speckly hen make that!"
But father's loud and strict command made even mother quake;
I think he'd sooner kill a man than kill a carpet snake.
That reptile was a greedy guts, and as each bulge digested
He'd come down on the hunt at night, as appetite suggested.
We heard his stealthy slithering sound across the earthen floor,
While the dog gave a startled yelp and bolted out the door.
Then over in the chicken-yard hysterical fowls gave tongue,
Loud frantic squawks accompanied by the barking of the mung,
Until at last the racket passed, and then to solve the riddle,
Next morning he was back up there with a new bulge in his middle.
When father died we wailed and cried, our grief was deep and sore,
And strange to say from that sad day the snake was seen no more.
The wise old men explained to us: "It was his tribal brother,
And that is why it done a guy" - but some looked hard at mother.
She seemed to have a secret smile, her eyes were smug and wary,
She looked about as innocent as the cat that ate the pet canary.
We never knew, but anyhow (to end this tragic rhyme)
I think we all had snake for tea one day about that time.
***I would like to send healing thoughts to Paul Pelosi and to the entire Pelosi family. I have known them since I was four, going to school starting in Kindergarten with his son Paul, working at KUSF with Alexandra in High School…scary times for them, to be sure.