Motorway fry ups and manky salad

Thu, 14 Aug 2008 11:32:56 -0500

Fiend of mine doing some hunting in Africa, Zimbabwee to be exact saw the Hates on the television there.

Jiggery Pokery Whiz Bang Factor

Sat, 9 Aug 2008 11:12:41 -0500

In classic, thick-as-thieves comraderie tonight’s audience further stoked the coals in the fire of the Hates existence. It was as if we shared an explosive secret, like who lit the cherry bomb in the high school restroom.

Too often, especially evident on the radio waves, modern bands start to sound like each other. Someone slogs away in the trenches for a while, gets a lucky break, and then other bands start to emulate the sound of the moment in hopes of catching some of that wave. This was not our lot tonight at Dan Electro’s. Each band was a true pioneer of their music; each eclectic group different from the last. Which was not only refreshing for me, but it widened the musical world for all of the fans and friends of each band. Best of all, we had quite raucous crowd before us when we hit the stage.

It’s funny - Punk started as a dark episode of musical history where creativity went backwards. Bare-bones, raw and full of the anger and rebellion that only the youth could provide. Over the years, the basic thought has not changed all that much. But from the outside, it still looks like a bunch of illiterate yobs shouting into a microphone, their body language suggestive of sociopathy with their audience chanting senselessly and flobbing themselves at each other like mad puppets. But really, all it ever was is a energetic rush of passionate music and faithful self expression. It still is.

Luvvly Jubbly

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 20:32:37 -0500

Our show tonight was all about celebrating our new recording. I’d been waiting for this night for what seemed a lifetime; many years of blood, sweat, and tears have culminated in this high point.

Old friends, fellow musicians, young punks, and a few completely new converts joined in the fun while we set a breakneck pace onstage. Even some members of bands that had been playing upstairs joined the pit!

Surprising Joel and Dave with plaques commemorating their work on this latest recording was fun for me, and was met with full support from the audience. And I had the honour of getting to know more Hates fans than I never knew existed.

Sweet Fanny Adams

Wed, 2 Jul 2008 12:25:09 -0500

Today brought another brilliant bit of notoriety by way of Rocky Stone and the Music News:

Greetings Cornerstoners!  (sigh)

Lately I am seemingly presented with an unending and ever-flowing stream of daily reminders that I am no longer a young man (and that’s being exceedingly kind). It’s not bad enough that I spend half of my life wandering around my home with a dazed and forlorn look on my face because I can’t find anything that I’m looking for, (lately it’s been the adapter plugs for the numerous electronic devices like my laptop and cell phone that make my life such a misery) but it now seems that the Hates are celebrating the third decade of their existence.

You see, my most patient and gentle readers, back in my day there was a magical place under the 59 overpass near Fannin Street called the Paradise Island Club. It was a gathering place (if not the very epicenter) for Houston’s Punk Rock scene. It was there that Houston’s counter culture (Punks, Mods, Rockers, Skinheads and other associated deviates in matters relating to music, fashion, and sex) would meet, swill Heineken, experiment with pharmaceuticals, and enjoy the musical stylings of such colorful local performers as The Tix, Bevatron, The Dicks, Really Red, The Big Boys, and of course the Hates. In their recordings, their videos (and remember that back then video was in its infancy - it was VERY rare for a local band to have a video of a song) and of course in their live performances, the Hates distinguished themselves from the pack and endeared themselves to audiences with songs like “Do the Caryl Chessman”, “Bored with the Boys”, and “Last Hymn”, which were notable for their high energy, alarming brevity, and distressingly unintelligible vocal delivery. Today (actually for the last 15 years or so) anyone who spends any time at all on the streets of this city can’t help but occasionally spot the Hates’ guitarist, songwriter, and lead singer, Christian Arnheiter riding around on his bright yellow motor scooter and sporting the magnificent mohawk hairdo that makes him impossible to miss (in the Paradise Island days, he wore a much shorter and darker cut and went by the moniker “Christian Oppression”). He is an enduring icon of a bygone and more innocent time and a landmark on Houston’s urban landscape. And for that and many other reasons we should be grateful that he has had the strength, determination, and sheer stubbornness to have kept the Hates going all this time and to offer us the newest Hates release “30 Years of Hate 1978 - 2008”.

Although this retrospective seems to concentrate mainly on the more recent history of the band, songs like “Get Wild”, “No Compromise”, “Drop the Bomb,” ”Armageddon” and “Moral Majority” all pack the same high-energy, adrenaline-soaked Hates magic. It’s a great listen, but I do wish more care had gone into the packaging. After all, 30 years is quite a milestone by anyone’s measure. But then again, Punk was never about history or liner notes. And perhaps with any luck, this release may give today’s faithful in their teens and twenties, who proudly sport their Ramones, Pistols, and Clash t-shirts (and in blissful ignorance of the fact that these are their parents’ bands) the opportunity to realize that they owe a huge debt of thanks to the Hats and the other bands of Houston’s original Punk scene for making sure that there was ever even a scene here at all.”

Sincere thanks go to Rocky for his high praise as well as his insight into days gone by. Thanks also to Hates fans, old and new. Making music is what keeps me young, and it’s encouragement like this that helps me keep going through the tough times.

Both Barrels Boof

Sat, 28 Jun 2008 00:00:00 -0500

It was time to push the envelope again. A suburban wake-up call on the edge of the cowboy junkie nightlife in Spring this time. The straight and proper smoke and mirrors sports bar lined with smoking blue-jeaned patrons and patrolled by sassy bar maids had to reckon with us this evening. Loud, proud, and full of hooligan style, we put on a riotous show.

It is always hard work to win over new fans in a venue you’ve never played at before, and tonight was no exception to that rule. We did our best tonight, and I think it was a positive experience.