Chapter 27
The show was in the back yard of a private house, so the chances of a police raid were high. That’s the nature of the beast, but the kind of people who go to a show like this one wouldn’t want it any other way. No major label record deals, no corporate backing. DIY or die.
The crowd was a mix. Some older punks who never left the scene, including a few wrinkled grandfather punks twenty years older than me. Some much younger, new devotees of the ancient faith shining with baby-faced enthusiasm. Mostly white, but some Hispanic. The Latin punk crowd looked like real purists, like nothing had changed from ’78. Liberty spikes and mohawks and studded black leather jackets.
Everyone was milling around and talking, drinking beer from plastic cups like this was a family barbecue. And i
