February 2010

Our story begins in the late afternoon of May 2, 1982. Kurt Brecht Sr. had just gotten off a hard day of work to find his two sons, Kurt Jr. and Eric, and their two friends, Spike Cassidy and Dennis Johnson, making terrible noises. He referred to the group as “a bunch of dirty rotten imbeciles.” Thus, a punk rock quartet got its name.

D.R.I. went on to become one of the most influential thrashcore punk bands of all time. And on Thursday January 7^th, 2010, they played for their third time in Pueblo, Colorado at Zaragoza Hall. But before the band took the stage, the crowd had to be warmed up. So the souls of P-town offered up three of their best bands to sacrifice to these gods of punk.

As I waited for the first band to play, I looked over the congregation of punks. I am amazed at how many faces I see from Pueblo’s hardcore music community—past, present and future. I see members of the Fanatics and Radiation, two very Old Skool Hardcore Punk bands from the early 90s. Members from currently popular Naked Bowlers, Asbestos Tampons, Better Luck Next Time and Sonic Vomit were in attendance.

A whole bunch of young punks were there too, who I had assumed were of a generation that only listened to Miley Cyrus. Some of these kids weren’t even alive the last time D.R.I. played Pueblo. Some of these kinds are in their own bands now, also inspired by D.R.I.

At this moment I become proud of the Steel City. I think how tragic it would be if an airplane crashed into Zaragoza Hall. What’s worse is that I don’t think Pueblo would realize what it had lost.

The first band to play that night was M.D. The Muff Divers are a grindcore, thrash and death metal duo. That’s right! This band only has two members, but with Mike Sword playing guitar, Joe Vigil on drums, and both gentlemen cooperating on vocals, what more would you need? M.D. reminded me of the Indie House back in 1994 and a band called JeΖo. They not only got the audience warmed up; they got us to do some delightful slam dancing too.

Three out of my last four music reviews have had some reference to the ever-popular band, Scrotus. It seems that every time I am sent to review a band, Scrotus is on the bill. And every time I see them, I am impressed by how good they sound. After a killer set of familiars, they played a new song called “Cowboy.” The song is actually about a child who was raised by cows.

Finally, before D.R.I. rocked the house, OneFiftyOne took the stage. “Ebag from hell,” the band’s drummer, and his girlfriend Christina (who were the driving forces behind bringing D.R.I. back to Pueblo), were married a few hours earlier in the same hall. OneFiftyOne, who have been playing Pueblo since 1995, played better and stronger than ever.

Finally after three of P-town’s best local bands, three beers, three hits of something called Spacewreck Kush and three fights, The Dirty Rotten Imbeciles started to set up. With two original members from 1982—lead singer Kurt Brecht and Spike Cassidy on the guitar, the band also featured Rob Rampy, who has been with the band since 1991, on drums, and Harald Oimoen. Harald was a roadie for the band until 2000 when he had an opportunity to play bass for D.R.I.

D.R.I. played with the energy of a bunch of teenagers. I can’t believe that they have been playing for almost 28 years now. As the band began to play “WHO AM I,” the audience pushed itself toward the stage. One jackass got up on stage and tried to have a conversation with the band’s leader (Kurt). The slam dancing kept causing elbows and knees to land in my back and head. At one point, one of the very large speakers almost fell on me. Luckily for me, Johnny O rose from the pit to hold the speaker in place.

I was at the front of the crowd for the first 20 minutes until I had to step away because I could not handle the energy. Just watching them was the most exhausting thing I’ve done in weeks.

After the show I had a moment to talk with Kurt Brecht. He spent much of the year on tour and saw a lot of bands and he was amazed by all three of Pueblo’s opening acts.

When the night had boiled down to a few die-hard fans and celebrants from the wedding, the band loaded up their unsold CDs and T-shirts and drove to the next town—much like they did 27 years ago with only enough money to fill the gas tank and their bellies—keeping the spirit of punk alive, one kick-ass show at a time.