Flow from blue bic and paper's wide rule.

Part 2 of my interview on Tony Hawk's Ride Channel.

I make the beats for Spade and King Tee, they say the funky fresh rhymes for me.

Yeah, I know, it's been forevs.
Moving right along.
Here is part 1 of an interview I did with my friend Jesse Fritsch for Tony Hawk's new YouTube channel, Ride. Check it.

And if you don't know, now you know.

GVSB.
Top 10 bands ever.
I have seen them on many occasions, sometimes in small venues pressed up against the front of the stage staring up from the monitors like a little girl, sometimes in larger venues, and once I even had the pleasure of opening up for them at the Troubador.
Seriously one of the most underrated bands of all time. Alexis is a monster drummer, Johnny Temple lays down the heaviest basslines since the Jesus Lizard, Scott McCloud is like a younger Peter Weller on cool pills, and Eli is the only person I've ever seen "rock out" on the keyboards without looking like a fey Thomas Dolby.
The coolest band ever. Period.



This pictures says a lot.
Growing up in LA, it takes a lot to make me fan out on someone.
Meeting T.A. was one of those times, and what made it even weirder was that he came up to me.
I won't reveal the circumstances, but I will tell you this; sometimes I still trip out that I know this dude. Total legend, total killer, and I want that surfboard bad.



As a black man, as a student of cinema, and as a guy who appreciates style, I am embarrassed to report that after 36 years of living and having had the soundtrack on vinyl for nearly as long, I have finally seen what is truly one of the greatest films of all time - The Mack.
Max Julien is now my hero on every level.
Humbled.






This picture sums up the feeling of a project I'm currently writing.
The "Rio" photo is obviously his most famous, but to me this Nagel has a lot of soul.



Douchebag.



Let's play tummy-sticks.

What planet? What channel? What station? Afrika from the Zulu Nation.

Once again I've let it go too long without posting. But in this instance I have an excuse, I've been touring like a madman behind a new EP my band released.

Since we last spoke I've been to - Houston, San Antonio, Dallas, Austin, New Orleans, Tallahassee, Jacksonville, Ft. Lauderdale, Orlando, Atlanta, Nashville, D.C., NYC, Philly, Clifton Park, and Montreal.

At the moment I am typing this from my hotel room in Toronto, and after tomorrow's show in town we'll be heading to Detroit, Louisville, Chicago, Lawrence, and Denver.

Gnarly.

It's been fun as shit, the kids have been coming and showing the love, and I'm lucky to have such a good job; I can't complain.

I'm tired, but it's the good kind - hard work, sweat, playing rock and roll, and occasionally skateboarding, like here at the 6th St. Skatepark in Nashville.

If you find yourself in there, check it, it's connected to an all-ages venue called Rocket Town, the people who run it are cool, and the locals are friendly.

After our show I wanted to take a run before the bus left, and since they enforced the helmet rule, I had to buy one, but the spitfire gloves I scored in the shop made it worth it.

Adam 12 took some shots of me shredding in show clothes (note the tour laminate giving good air flair)

The gloves that made it worth buying the helmet.

OK.

Since it's been a while since we last spoke, this is not going to have the full impact, as it's going to seem bandwagon-esque, due to it's late arrival.

But I'm gonna go ahead and say it: SOA is the best show on TV. Period.

Well, maybe not BEST, as I recently, (read: TODAY) became ob'd with Mad Men, but SOA is definitely the most exciting show on TV.

I'm not gonna say I watched it from the beginning of the first season, cause that would be a lie.

I thought the posters looked gay, (by the way, I'm taking that word back to it's schoolyard meaning, deal with it).

I mean, NO ONE thought it looked good when the posters first went up. But between seasons I caught an episode and fell in love instantly.

I then bought the season on itunes and sat down for the next 4 days and watched the whole thing with my wife, and we were hooked.

I tried spreading the gospel and getting friends into it, but no one was biting, everyone who was into the MC world thought it was weak, and those who didn't know anything about bikes or the culture thought it would be too inside.

Still, I persisted, and told anyone who would listen about how epic this show was and when I wasn't Tweeting about it or posting something on my Facebook, I was hard-selling it to the unconverted like a snake oil salesman.

Come premiere night of Season Two it seems some people listened, cause now everyone who checked it out was telling me how sick it was. Granted, it was one of the most craze episodes of TV ever, let alone a record breaking season premiere for cable television, but the point is, those who doubted were now converts and suddenly I was the go-to guy to explain what was what and recap season 1 for the newly initiated.

I have done everything but rename my son Jax and write a spec script to submit to Kurt Sutter (debating doing so), but I digress.

While you could definitely nitpick it to death about authenticity, the point remains, it's fucking good television.

It would be lazy to call it The Soprano's set in the MC world, but I have even done so when someone didn't get the, "Hamlet set in the Norcal MC world" reference. Basically, it's a family drama punctuated by extreme violence that has you laughing at the most inappropriate shit, in the end, it's just it's own thing.

If you haven't seen it yet, give in, you'll be hooked, if you're hating on it, it's your loss, and if you are already as addicted as me, I feel sorry for you.

That said, anyone wearing the rockers you can buy on ebay, is just Gary with a silent R.

You watch the show long enough, even a vintage freak like me starts dreaming of an old FXR.

Or even better, a push button, dependable, blacked out Street Bob.

Or the bike Jax Teller himself rides; a nice Super Glide.

(I've already reached out to Harley Davidson to see if they'd like to sponsor me and kick me a bike at a discount, you know, sort of like the Emerica wild ride thing, except instead of being a professional skateboarder, I'm a mediocre skateboarder and a singer in a rock band, kind of a good deal for them if you ask me. Still waiting to hear back.)

My boy Yosi Sergant was just at the center of a huge controversy that wasn't really one until Glen Beck made it so.

Yosi is one of my best friends, a stellar human being, selfless, devoted, kind, good hearted, and just blazing awesome 24/7, so it was a shame that an entertainment personality who has enough vapid followers to matter was able to stir up such a hoopla about so very little.

Yosi was very much responsible for this little poster you may have seen before.

(If you think Obama's a socialist who's taking your guns that's cool, you're entitled to be wrong, I'm just talking about my friend.)

On a lighter note, at a Chik-Fil-A in the great state of Texas, this kid was trying to watch me drop a deuce.

Thankfully Adam 12 caught him in the act.

This kid's future is fucked, and it ain't' the president's fault.

From fucked future to fucked past.

The 70's.

The other day I was at County USC medical center visiting one of my dearest friends who was injured in a motorcycle accident. (Mr. Michael Barragan of Evil Spirit Engineering who you may remember from my earlier posts as the man who's building my bike with me. He's recovering and doing well but your thoughts would still be appreciated, plus I'm sure we'll be having a benefit of some sort, so stay tuned - side note, you want to see why everyone needs health insurance, go to County USC Hospital)...and while waiting for visiting hours outside I was approached by a skinny, frail, aging gang member who was asking to buy a cigarette. I don't smoke, but my boy gave him one, and as he reached out his thin, heavily tattooed arm with an enormous abscess, I noticed a tattoo of a particularly gnarly prison gang on his arm.

Point being, that guy was hardcore.

When I was a kid, this was marketed as hardcore.

This on the other hand, scared the shit out of me.

Even though I knew the Van Patten kid from spending my summers in Malibu, this was frightening.

Gone was the cute, eye batting, ball playing Salami from The White Shadow.

Here was a vision of the not-so-distant future in which a bunch of pretty punkers who would never make it in a Penelope Spheeris movie were unleashed on an unsuspecting school, teacher, and his wife.

I mean, when the punkers are raping the teacher's wife, things have gone too far.

I haven't seen it in ages, but it's been recently re-released on DVD, and I'm gonna be it holds up.

And though I'd love for just one post of mine to NOT contain a memorial to a friend or hero who died, it is with great sadness that I say goodbye to one of the good ones.

JJ Klein.

I was unable to make the memorial service, as I was on the road, but she was a sweetheart, funny as hell, a rockin' drummer, cute as a button, a nice Jewish girl, and taken way too young.

RIP

XO

Say peace to cats who rock mack knowledge knowledgists, street astrologists, light up the mic, God, knowledge this.

RIP Andy Kessler

One of the godfathers of NYC skating, and an all around nice dude.

I only met him once but he was very close with a dear friend of mine and helped her out a lot, and for that I am thankful.

He will be missed.

If you don't know who he is, it's a perfect excuse to check out an incredible documentary featuring the man.

It's called From Deathbowl To Downtown, directed by Coan Nichols and Rick Charnoski, two guys that make raw ass skateboarding films. (With music supervision from my boy Sam Velde of Night Horse and Bluebird fame).

It's dropping on DVD Sept. 15th, so go support and pay your respects to a legend in the process.

Charging.

And if you don't know, now you know.

When I first started getting into graf there were a few people who opened the door for me in one way or another. In 7th grade Mach One used to draw on paper and show me blackbook pieces in class and at lunch. He was probably the gateway to the culture of graf besides breakdancing and hip hop, both of which I was already involved in. He told me about his stoner gang, MLS, "Mota Locos" and his graf crew, KGB, Kids Gone Bad, and I thought it was the coolest shit I'd ever heard. He was also a surfer and stood out like a sore thumb at the posh prep school we attended in the valley. Mach was into cooler shit than anyone, the thing was, all the Less Than Zero rich kids didn't get it.....but I did.

He went on to do most of the graf for the film "Colors", and is now an accomplished artist.

Later in life I became close friends with a bunch of his crew from back in the day, all KGB, MLS, LADS dudes.

Probably the second dude to really hook me up was a guy named Power. This was before he started the first legit graffiti mag in the world, Can Control. It was a strange set of circumstances that hooked us up, but basically, my dad's secretary (back when you could use that term without hassle) was a super cool indie rock girl named Sarah. She was mad cool and we always got along great.

One day when Power was visiting the office he must have started talking to my dad and found out I was ob'd with graf, cause the next thing I know, dad comes home with a piece Power did for me on paper, it was of my name, and had a Mickey Mouse character in the back (I was like 13, but the point was it was a burner).

I finally met him in person and thanked him for the piece, which by now was on my wall. He came over to my crib one day and was gonna help me throw a fresh coat of white paint on the back of my garage, as my parents said we could do whatever we wanted on the back of it.

This was huge, I now had my own private yard. So Power comes over, and before we can even get out the Krylon, I cut my finger down to the bone trying to pry open a huge tub of white house paint. (still have the scar to prove it).

Total drag. Power bailed, dad took me to the E.R., and we never got to paint my garage. (I did for years to come, but that's another story). I was bummed we didn't get to hit up the garage, but that feeling didn't last, cause as soon as my index finger was ready to hit a tester's tip, he took me out bombing for real, this time at the legendary Belmont Tunnel.

To give some back story, I had tagged a bit with my boys, mostly Flash UTI, Kaze, Master UTI, and Esk, but I hadn't done an illegal piece yet, just throw-ups and tags, so for a kid who was like 13, going to the most insane yard in all of L.A. in what at the time seemed like the sketchiest hood ever, was just beyond.

So Power and I met up with Duke, another legend, and we went to it. I had a little piece folded up in my pocket that was wack as fuck, but it didn't matter, cause I was gonna do it for real, my first piece, in one of the heaviest yards in the city....craze.

So Duke busts a piece of his name in the style of the Coke© font, Power does one of his usual burners, curvy lines, clean outline, epic, and to the left of them, teeny-bopper Justin does a little "RDL" in white with red outline (we all shared paint).

Embarrassing to say, but at the time, Riddler was my tag, and the best I could come up with for an abbreviation was that.

Yeah, I know.

Anyway, Power dedicates his piece to me as Just66 (just as he would later give me a shout out in one of the first ever issues of Can Control in the thank yous), Duke makes me feel like we're not going to die being in this heavy cholo hood (he was down with everyone on the east side and as an ex-banger, no one would fuck with him), and I do my first illegal, wack...yes, but nevertheless it was done in the company of giants....literally actually, as it was half the height of the other two pieces.

And if you look in the back of The History Of Los Angeles Graffiti on page 338 you will see the Duke and Power pieces, and to the left, just out of frame cropped out onto the cutting room floor, is the edge of yours truly's first ever illegal burner, thick sketchy outline, no control, bad style, and one of the last times I tagged that name on a piece, as even I knew the name was busted and quickly changed it up.

I never saw Duke again, Power and I lost touch, and my dad's "executive assistant", Sarah broke up with Power and went on to work at one of the coolest record stores in L.A. history - Record Trader, at the northwest corner of Melrose and Spaulding. Many of the employees from this spot went on to work at Aaron's, Penny Lane, and later Amoeba, but this was THE spot back in the day. Sarah and the crew sold me many pieces of vinyl which I would sample and turn into hip-hop beats, and this was one of the first places where you could go and trade in your old CD's for cash or trade (I lived on this, thank you staff of Record Trader).

But I digress.

Soon after I was introduced to the Woodman/Oxnard yard by Else and Dash 2000 (both of whom lived blocks away and claimed ownership of the yard, but that's another story), and started spending mad time there with the aforementioned UTI's, as well as random mobbing with cats like Sec, Miner, Lerk, Skar, and my road dog at the time, Pike, with whom I'd tag all city and hit spots like the Motor Yard, the old Santa Monica Blvd/Crescent Heights yard, the 405 near the Sunset Blvd overpass, and so many other spots my frazzled brain can't even remember.

There were other writers who came to be equally as influential in other ways, such as Rise, Rev, Relm, and Phyn, plus those I actually kicked it with such as Serf, Wise, and Rage, all from The Chosen Few, TCF, but it was Power who really sparked the fire that got me into it, and for that I thank him, cause 23 years later I'm still in love with graffiti, and I feel lucky to have shared some history with a few of the guys who helped make it into what I believe to be the city that spawned the greatest graffiti artists of all time.

Period.

(I'm hunting for some better pix of Power's stuff, for now here's what I could find...apologies).

My favorite piece running right now.

It's funny, coming up I was so into Rise that I almost didn't like Risk by default. Even though I grew up checking him out on the walls, in the books, and knowing he helped create the L.A. graf movement, I guess the rivalry and tension between the two of them and their crews just got the better of me like a kid rooting for his home team in the championships.

But now that time's gone by, I have to admit it....straight up, Risk is the best.

At the time maybe the only dudes CLOSE were Dream from SMD, Charlie DTK, and some of the New York cats, and later maybe Mear, but it's all so subjective and debatable.

But you know what? Not really. He was the man.

And when it comes down to it, he helped start it, he's still doing it, and he's still running it.

It's nice to look at it with some distance and perspective now and to really be able to give it up for what he is...

King.

Risky - Sever, MSK.

I jacked this from someone on Facebook, forget who. Doesn't matter, I don't scan, I jack and write awesome, you find the photos, OK?

Sorry. Get over it.

Scott Oster, Christian Hosoi, Cesario "Block" Montano, Vince "back off Warchild" Klyne, and some other random Hosoi skate dudes at the legendary Wallows. (Yes, that epic ditch as featured in the magnum opus, "Animal Chin")

I was so jealous when Brunetti started rocking the SLA flag in his shit for FUCT. I've always been super into the whole Hearst affair and the symbolism of these freaks.

When I ask, "is this the best picture ever?", you say, "fuck yeah!"

OK, it's been a long time coming, but here's some pictures of where my bike, "Black Jesus" - is currently at.

The pipes are mounted, the front end is rebuilt, there's sick new tires on my janky wobbles-gallobles wheels, and the bars and awesome headlight (I WILL pay you, Beans) are in mock-up mode, but I have to say, this thing is fucking aggressive and I'm feeling it like an extra large Diet Coke© with Jack In The Box tacos.

Don't mind the lame tilt on the bars, just goofing around and wanted a good angle to see the dog bones and Max Schaaf grips. But angle aside, I'm pretty stoked on the bar configuration I mashed together. Somewhere between drags on risers, Z's, and some weird shit that happened by accident. In any event, I'm down like brown.

What?

Don't act like you don't love Wham!

I for one remember when this read, "Wham UK!", as they had to add the country of origin to avoid a lawsuit with an American band (Who the entire world NEVER heard from before or after, so who's laughing now, dick fucks?).

They soon dropped the UK and their sense of fashion for slogan shirts and feathered hair, but I will always remember them like this.

Gay as shit and fucking awesome in all their Club Tropicana glory.

This should be a Nike ad.

File under: Wow.

If you were to visit Dinah's chicken on San Fernando Blvd., these will greet you as you enter.

Bowie came to the beach with mom and dad the other day.

I asked him to give her a kiss.

When I finished surfing, I explained to him how it worked.

He got it.

Young Truman Capote sure was cool before the hat and the weird.

Amazing cover art, totally indicative of a time and place in mid-eighties Los Angeles.

I absolutely love that period in just about everything, specifically as it pertains to L.A.

Besides coming on the heels of his "sex tape" scandal (before they were commonplace and almost mandatory on every actor's imdb resume), this film also featured Lisa Zane, and for once Spader didn't play the heavy or the creep.

This film was not nominated for an Academy Award©.

500cc Tiger.

Shampoo.

There's a theme at work, I swear.

Lee Grant. There were few women sexier and better looking than she was in her prime.

Co-star and Sit-In alum, Goldie Hawn. Totally underrated in the category of beautiful women.

Jesus. 80's paparazzi pics were so much cooler. Lilo could never hold a candle or a coke spoon to this sort of town-car hangover sexy-messness.

I love her.

At least she settled down with a dude who wasn't a total douchebag.

I mean, Snake Plisskin, Nick Frescia, Cash....Jack Burton?

Dude is alright with me.

I almost don't even wanna tell you who this is cause I don't need you drooling over my favorite 60's crush.

Joanna Pettet.

Look it up, I'm not telling you shit, you fuck.

Awww, so fucking cute.

Pre-Rosemary, pre Frank Sinatra's ritual abuse, and pre Bat-Shit-Crazy throwing around wild unfounded accusations of child molestation because her longtime boyfriend was doing the nasty with her adopted daughter (who hated Mia enough to bone, fall in love with, marry, and play mother to her step dad, Woody).

Good hair too.

I like white girls.

Rambo.

Rambone.

Sorry, couldn't resist.

Now when you watch Rocky, Copland, or Death Race 2000, you're gonna think about his penis.