(photo/art collaboration by Glenn E. Friedman/Shepard Fairey)

This piece of writing was meant to pay tribute to Henry Rollins today on his 50th birthday. I hope it still does. But as is my tendency, I am going to take the long road to get there.

The first record I ever bought, and I mean vinyl record was “In My Head,” the Black Flag album (my first cassette, and later my first CD, were by Nirvana). This was years after it had come out, I was barely a teenager, so this would have been the very early ’90s. This was their last studio album and sounds very different than stuff from, say, the “First Four Years” collection, or even “Damaged,” the first LP Henry Rollins appeared on. But it cannot be denied - nay, I shall not let it be denied! - that “In My Head” still has more power and passion than anything playing on the radio today, let alone in 1985 when it was released.

Of course, Black Flag wasn’t the kind of band that got played on the radio. Nowadays, you hear them in everything from commercials for Tony Hawk skateboard videogames to the soundtracks of Todd Phillips’ movies. But even when I was a teenager, they were a band you just had to be lucky enough to know about. MTV wasn’t going to tell you about them. My parents were just out of their teens in the early ’70s when they got married and started having us kids, but it’s not like they were listening to MC5 or Iggy and The Stooges (at least they had Monkees and Beatles records, and it’s thanks to my mom I got into some good country music).

Luckily, my sister Zoe, playing Smiths and Morrissey tapes in the car every morning that she drove us to school, fell in with a crowd of punk rock kids from Coronado High School in Scottsdale AZ. D.J. Edwards gave me a cassette tape with Sex Pistols’ “Nevermind The Bollocks” on one side, some Minutemen on the other. Later, D.J.’s brother Mike would start singing with a band called Unruh, still respected now in the hardcore scene years after their dissolution. Zoe’s pal Max Armstrong (now a blogger at theomnom.com), going to Arcadia High in Phoenix AZ, also turned me onto the zine Maximumrocknroll. It was columnist Matt Average’s reviews of bands such as Brother Inferior that helped me discover some of my favorite bands (he now puts out the zine Ack Ack Ack on his iso3200 Press).

I think it’s Zoe who gave our little sister Ariana her first Bad Religion albums, and our oldest sister Chiara drove Ariana and I to Mesa Ampitheatre when I won tickets to Bad Religion, SNFU (who offered me my first beer, though underage, I declined at the time), and Guttermouth (who would continue to come back through Arizona playing shows at The Nile in Mesa AZ, my friends dodging spitballs to share the stage with Mark, who was always generous with the microphone for audience members who wanted to sing along). Part of the prize was dinner with the band before and backstage passes after the show. Greg Graffin (who is now a professor at UCLA) gave me a lot of great advice that night as I told him about the band I was forming with friends. One of the first books I’ve read in 2011 is his Anarchy Evolution, which is part autobiography, part explanation of evolutionary theory.

My hangout in high school and in college was Eastside Records in Tempe, AZ (which recently closed after decades in business - I will devote a future essay to this topic exclusively). Bob Schriner, now a writer (you may have seen his work in Chunklet, or heard his legendary prank calls) and stand-up comedian in Los Angeles, worked the counter and gave me my first D.C. hardcore record, the Minor Threat discography. It was through the Dischord compilations of early releases that I found State of Alert, fronted by a young ice cream shop employee named Henry Garfield. 

Garfield would move to L.A. and change his name to Rollins when he was drafted by Black Flag to become their new singer, their fourth in five years. Get In The Van is a collection of Rollins’ journals during his five years with the band. My best guess is that only cross-country truckers, road comics, professional wrestlers, traveling salesmen, and maybe Samurai who became Ronin, can really understand how hard touring can be. Certainly, it’s nothing I have experienced, though I still have hopes to in my lifetime. 

Rollins also wrote poetry and performed spoken word, publishing collections of his writing on his 2.13.61 label (which would go on to release later works of Hubert Selby, Jr. and literary efforts by Exene Cervanka of the band X, Iggy Pop, and Nick Cave, who fronted The Birthday Party, and the Bad Seeds). These books, where Rollins poured his brain, heart, and soul on every page, were my gospels as an angsty young man. They comforted me during my teenage heartbreaks. 

After Black Flag broke up, Rollins put out a solo album, “Hot Animal Machine,” and a piece of performance art called Henrietta Collins and the Wifebeating Childhaters. Both were collected later on one CD. His next project, besides his occasional acting roles (“Johnny Mnemonic,” “The Chase,” “Sons of Anarchy,” etc.), are probably responsible for most of his success and any awareness that mainstream audiences have of him - Rollins Band. The video for “Liar,” with Rollins alternately dressed as Superman and a red-skinned devil, was in heavy rotation on MTV (it also earned Rollins some guest hosting gigs on “120 Minutes” and “Alternative Nation” - I still have some of those appearances, taped on a VCR). I saw the band play at Club Rio in Tempe AZ. I remember my friend Kim Hagen coming to the show with a Black Flag t-shirt on, then seeing another girl wearing the same shirt. Kim turned her shirt inside out instead of choosing to resemble anyone else in the room in the smallest way - punk rock, perhaps above all else (maybe even above defiance of authority), values individuality.

Because of an injury I sustained in the pit at a Pennywise show (also at Club Rio), I had two knee surgeries when I was 18. I am able-bodied now, but my senior year of high school, I spent a lot of time on crutches, or with a cane. When Rollins came through Arizona on one of his spoken word tours (more a storytelling and stand-up comedy set than a poetry recital), the staff at the Electric Ballroom in Tempe AZ, set me up just off to the side of the stage. I had the best seat in the house. I remember Rollins talking about a very sensual recording session with drag queen RuPaul for a rendition of the Lipps Inc. disco hit “Funkytown.” (It was never released, but you can hear a snippet here.) I also saw Rollins do spoken word at Celebrity Theatre in Phoenix, getting to shake his hand after the show.

Besides his extensive traveling, column writing, and radio show hosting (currently he’s on KCRW in Santa Monica), Rollins has done a lot of work for the West Memphis Three (Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley, who have wrongfully been imprisoned in Arkansas for the murders of Michael Moore, Stevie Branch and Christopher Byers). As part of that work, Rollins Band went on a tour playing Black Flag songs, both Rollins and the first Black Flag vocalist Keith Morris (later of Circle Jerks) sharing singing duties. My friend John O’Hagan (Royal Monsters) opened up for them at The Marquee in Tempe AZ with his band at the time, Where Eagles Dare, and I got to go backstage and say hello to Rollins one more time. 

The first episode of The Shakeytown Radio Hour, which Gene George and I host (hello, you’re on our website!!!), featured a conversation with Tom Neely, who collaborated on a comic book poking fun at Rollins and his contemporary Glenn Danzig (Misfits, Samhain, Danzig). “Henry and Glenn Forever” imagines the two as a domestic partnership. Both men know about the book - if you know anything about Danzig, you won’t be surprised that between the two, Rollins has the better sense of humor about it. 

Out of all the friends I have made and lost over the years in punk rock (let’s face it, there’s some toxic people attracted to this subculture, and I’ve wasted a lot of time in my past in dysfunctional relationships with them - older now, I understand how my own flaws contributed to that, and have tried to make amends with those estranged parties who also outgrew their immaturity), I would say most of them don’t hold Rollins in high esteem. He did not stay underground, at least not as deeply as they might have preferred. The man did ads for Gap and Apple - that’s not exactly D.I.Y. But my first job in television was for Paris Hilton’s “The Simple Life” - who am I to judge? I don’t shop at the Gap, but I’m writing this essay on a MacBook Pro, so Steve Jobs is welcome to pay me whatever he wants. (Maybe he can give me an iPhone? I’m the last person in my neighborhood without one, and that includes the woman who sleeps in the alley behind my house.) Even in the comedy community which I am ostensibly connected to, people had bad things to say after Rollins appeared on Marc Maron’s WTF podcast. To those who aren’t fans, Rollins appears very full of himself.

To those who don’t get it, I implore you - do not mistake courage in self-expression for arrogance. Even if he weren’t an inspiration for me over the last 20 years of my life, I would tell you that any artist with a voice deserves a base level of respect which allows them the opportunity and responsibility to have that voice heard.

But of course, Rollins has more than just my base level of respect for fellow human beings - he has been one of my heroes. He still is. Personally, he has always been kind to me any time I have corresponded with him or met him face-to-face. His work ethic would put James Brown to shame. He is admittedly a more solitary man than myself, so while our lifestyles are different, I admire his career path and aspire to making the same impact in other people’s lives as he has made in mine.

I woke up this morning, as I do most mornings, leaving behind my sleepyheaded soulmate Megan (who I met in the midst of our musical careers, her band touring and playing the same show I was booked on), to make some coffee and do some writing. I have a magazine assignment to finish. I have a niece in Gilbert AZ to call and wish a happy birthday. I have a Shakeytown minisode to finish editing so I can drop it tomorrow. This morning, I turned on “Paralyzed,” the first song on the “In My Head” record.

It’s 2.13.11. Henry is 50 today. Almost 30 years ago, on June 27, 1981, Henry went to The Irving Plaza on East 15th Street in New York City to see Black Flag (with Dez Cadena as their singer at the time), Bad Brains, and UXA. Later that night, he followed Black Flag to 7A, a smaller venue, and watched them play more. It was sunrise. Henry had five hours to drive back to his hometown to start a work shift that began in six hours. The band played “Clocked In” in honor of Henry. He was compelled to march onstage, grab the mic, and sing the song. Cadena, who was starting to consider giving up singing to concentrate on guitarist duties, “didn’t seem to mind.” It was shortly after that morning that Henry moved to L.A. and became the singer of Black Flag.

If he hadn’t had that gumption, I might not know the people who have helped define my outlook and shape me as a person. My world, my life, might be totally different. 

Thanks, Henry, and happy birthday.

-BFH