All language subtitles for Lo.Sound.Desert.2015.1080p.WEB.H264-HYMN

Something
cool about the desert.

It
Is a trippy place.

The obvious, big sky,

vast amounts of space...

Sounds cheesy
but you soak it up.

And you know, I think that it
comes through in the music,

it really does.

If you live in the
middle of the city,

there's places people go
where no one's around.

Whereas in the desert, you know,

I just have to go,
like, two streets over

and I was looking at
basically a horizon,

and I wouldn't see pavement,

a building, or a power pole.

It was on the edge of
infinity there, you know.

I was like, "Fuck this, man.

"There's nothing out here
and it's way too far away

"from everything," you know,
'cause it was literally still,

you know, not built yet.

Coachella Valley,
this is our desert,

this is the whole thing.

10 East.

Right there, boom.

Highway 111, Palm Springs,

yeah, coming right into town,

this is where we are.

Cathedral City, Rancho Mirage.

That's all of Palm
Springs back in the '30s.

Very little, right?

My great-grandfather had a
cactus garden right there.

He came to the desert
in the early 1900s

and homesteaded,
pioneering white family,

and took this thing
around finding water.

So my granmda and my great-uncle

were the first white people
born in Palm Springs,

which sound insane,

but it was just Indians.

There was no, kind of weird,
second-class thing happening.

They were poor white people
and they were poor Indians.

* Waiting on a guilt trip

* Sitting out the flu

* Dying for a repeat

* Taking it for two.

This is my favorite
back route right here.

This is the last
little neighborhood.

Little zone.

That used to be my
family's trailer park,

now it's a Motel 6.

* So low she rose
up like the sun

* Up like the sun,
up like the sun

* So low she rose
up like the sun *

Best neighborhood in
Palm Springs right here.

For as uptight as, you
know, America might be,

you've got your leather
gay shop right there

with all the, you know,
paddles, ball gags,

locks and chambers,

then you got killer
Mexican restaurant,

and you got the Tool Shed,

leather boy gay bar.

And then you got all-nude
girls across the street,

and you've got legalized
marijuana, Big I,

right there too,

so this is a very...

It's a perfect
little neighborhood.

You know, weed,
drugs, girls, boys,

and good Mexican food.

The
desert's great.

Well, I appreciate it more now

that I'm seven
hours away from it.

* Lucifer's here

* He sleeps in the rear

* Can't understand him
and it's all that I hear.

But there's
things I miss about it, though.

It's nice to come back.

We're setting the stuff up,

everybody's gonna
have a good time.

It's not as hot
as people thought,

so everything seems good.

It's how it goes.

Try to make a nice
show for the people.

Have some fun.

There's venues down
in the desert now.

There's a couple bars that
do music every weekend.

So, people aren't as desperate
for that kind of stuff

as they used to be when I
was growing up down there.

Boredom.

Growing up, obviously,
you do whatever you do.

You go out and it's too hot,

you try to entertain yourself.

Maybe as a kid you play sports,

or we liked to skateboard
when we were young.

Then you hit puberty and you
start to party and chase girls.

Everybody dates each
other's girlfriends

because it's such a small town.

We were waiting for the
scum bus for like a half hour

in my Chuck Taylors and

the sidewalk being so
hot that it actually

was starting to melt and loosen
up the bottom of my shoes.

It's hard to be cool,

it's hard to be a
punk in the desert.

All that shit you
put on to be punk,

like mascara and hairspray,

it just starts melting
and it burns your eyes.

Palm
Springs, where I live,

you know, it's a resort town.

The poor people
stayed in the summer,

and rich people came here
to bourgeois in winter.

But that's about it,

it's where old people go
to retire and play golf.

You know, nothing to do,

unless you golf,

which I don't.

"Sonny Bono,

"Frank Sinatra, and other
interments of interest."

Number 151.

We did a great show at the
Graveyard in Palm Springs.

The singer for the bands
that I was in then,

the band was called Valley Days,

his parents were the caretakers,

and they went away.

Sinatra was alive then,
now Sinatra's dead

and he's buried here.

You'd see Dean Martin.

You'd see weird people
like movie stars,

and then you think
about that generation

and what they must
have thought of us.

Palm
Springs at that time

was dominated by Frank Sinatra

and his Rat Pack culture.

He lived in Rancho Mirage,

which is just outside
of Palm Springs.

It was far enough
away from their wives

that they could feel like
they were in another state,

come here, and get laid.

They'd bring their
girlfriends out here,

get drunk, shoot
guns, play golf.

It was like you were
in another world.

The whole scene was
around these little lounges

where Frank Sinatra-type
of musicians

would sing "New York, New York."

So there grew up to be
this Ring-a-Ding-Ding

type of swing culture that
really hated rock and roll

because Frank Sinatra
hated rock and roll.

So they basically banned
rock and roll in the 1970s.

There was no concerts
at all in the mid 1980s.

Great voice,
mafia connections.

But you can't stop rock
music from developing,

you can't stop kids from
practicing their favorite art form,

so this underground singing
developed, basically.

To be honest, it
never really got bigger,

it was always the same size.

It was always somewhere
between 200 and 600 people.

And you knew 450 of them.

When punk rock
was happening in Los Angeles,

it naturally pervaded the
Coachella Valley, also.

There was a band
called Target 13

that was very influential.

The theme
song to Rodney on the Rock

was written by Target 13.

The
leader of that group

had a skateboard shop in
downtown Palm Springs,

and so he was kind
of a meeting place

for a lot of the punkers.

Myke
Bates, he was the only

punk rocker in high school

and he was the only one that
was old enough to have a car,

that would take you to
a punk rock show in LA.

Those guys were all
doing the same thing,

but not so much
generator parties,

but they set it
for us, you know?

Yes it rock sound
and stoner rock.

I'm 47 years old.

What was in my record
collection growing up?

It was hard rock.

Blue Cheer.

Slade.

Black Sabbath, of course.

The most underrated AC DC album

that Bon Scott didn't sing on.

Cactus.

My family influence
was Jackson Browne,

The Doors, Hendrix,

and a lot of blues stuff.

Just a smattering of
blues, Chuck Berry.

And then...

To punk.

Ology, Stooges.

I forgot to mention the
Ramones in my influences.

They're number one.

The Misfits and Black Flag

and GBH and Exploited.

GG Allen, of course,

Glevel Surfers.

This album changed my life.

GBH.

I
Knew when I heard it

that that was where I belong.

I think
the desert scene,

even though it doesn't
sound like punk rock,

I think it does come back
to the same sensibilities.

Punk rock's like
one of the few kinds of music

that there's no
necessity for any kind

of technical knowledge
when you do it.

If you had an
amp and a guitar,

you could play in a band.

It didn't matter if you
knew how to play or not.

"You got gear? Let's jam."

And we'd make noise.

It's just as much
like a performance art

as it is proper music, in a way.

Just pure expression, short
and simple and straight up.

And no fluff.

It's kind of
like Florida, too,

where you get all
these old rich people

that come here to die.

And some are cool, and some suck

and make it hard on the youth.

Nothing against old people,

they're cool,
they're just older.

But when we were kids,

it felt like it was
us against them.

They didn't like
us having parties,

that's why we couldn't do
it in our neighborhoods.

They don't want purple-haired
kids running around

you know, looking like
freaks and doing their thing.

I had no trouble
with the law ever.

They had trouble with me.

This big old
skateboard, you know,

and I'd look over,

and two cops are in
this undercover car.

And these two guys are
looking and I was like,

"I'm jamming, man.

"I'm jamming."

And they were laughing.

And they pulled
right in front of me.

And fucking smashed me.

When you tried to do things
like skateboard and stuff,

police would take
your skateboard

and roll over it with their
squad car and destroy it.

You'd go to someone's house

and just play until
the cops showed up.

And we would get
busted within, like,

the first two songs.

I played, like, garage
parties and fucking

Mayfair, you know, like hoods.

There
were no rock clubs,

so we'd try to play
at the dance clubs.

People were gonna go,
"Are you gonna behave?"

And I'm like, "Fuck no."

You know?

I mean, what?

When I'm having a good
time, you're getting mad,

I understand that.

People
started slam dancing

and the big, beef-cake
security guards

would actually start
macing the crowd.

And then all of a sudden,
you got girls crying,

dudes throwing up,

and the cops showing up.

There was a new place
called The Hood.

They're all the same,

it's like a sports bar,

it'll open up and have punk
rock shows for a while,

and then they're done.

Yeah The Hood's
not, like, ideal,

but it's what the desert has.

If you live in the
desert, you can't be picky

about some of that shit.

You're playing in your
mom's garage for so long,

you wanna play out.

For Solarfeast, our first show,

we borrowed a generator,

and we just set up and played
a parking lot downtown.

Suddenly, like a
100 kids and people

were like jumping over a
fence to come see us play.

This is the library.

This is where I work.

Murphy Beds, I heard
he hires, you know,

scumbag rock and
rollers to help him out.

I worked for him a couple times.

That's a
selling point for Murphy Beds.

At 16, the desert
meant nothing more to me

than a dead end,

boring place, full
of old people.

I can appreciate it
a little more now

that I'm...

Pushing 47.

As opposed
to when I was 16.

Through skateboarding,
got turned on to some guys

from Palm Springs.

We had a punk band

called Dead Issue.

Scott Reeder on bass,

me, Alfredo,

and Herb on guitar and vocals.

When I was living
at my mommy's house,

Herb was living out of a car.

That guy is punk rock and
he's been around forever.

Have you
ever seen Scott play bass?

He's definitely,

he's gotta be one of the
rockingest bass players

in the world.

It's fucking insane.

He's so goddamn good,
it's almost bizarre.

I met
Alfredo one night

at a Target 13 show.

I'd
walk up to a party

and I could tell it was
Alfredo playing drums

from like five blocks away.

I didn't know what band it was,

I didn't know what
song they were playing,

but I could tell from
the style of drumming

that it was 'Fredo.

And it
was hard for a drummer

to have a style.

The difference between.

Instantly, you're
in a low-rider.

At the time, he was
playing with Sean Wheeler

in band called Mutual Hatred.

Mutual Hatred, which
was my first punk band,

look at that.

The Cramps at the
Whisky a Go Go.

That's like 1980 or something.

So we made this,

this is the first set
list from the first show

at Alex Fernandez's house.

Petroleum Jelly.

Oh yeah, that's
about masturbation.

Dude, Green Peace Sucks.

This was Alfredo
on drums, right?

May 15...

"Kill the whale, watch him die,

"Ignite his blubber,
make him fry."

"Green Peace sucks.

"Green Peace sucks.

"Turtle meat, I love to eat,

"I thrash and beat
for turtle meat."

"Green Peace sucks.

"Green Peace sucks.

"Kill the seal, take his belt,

"chop it up into a kilt.

"Green Peace sucks,
Green Peace sucks,

"Green Peace sucks,
Green Peace sucks."

It's like 40 seconds long,
you know what I mean?

Kids were so dumb, you know?

We thought that
would be punk to say,

to bum people out.

Sean Wheeler
is one of my heroes.

He's in a band now
called Throw Rag.

We used to have a
band when I was a kid

called Zezo Zee Zaddfrac

and the Dune Buggy
Attack Battalion.

Which was pretty much like
Zodiac Mindwarp but weirder.

This is the band
Zezo Zee Zaddfrac

and the Dune Buggy
Attack Battalion.

This is me, my nice long hair,

my fur vest.

Zezo's whole thing
was like Mad Max

and the Manson Family.

And then dune buggies,

and they were out
in Death Valley.

When Josh and Nick and
those guys were kids,

they seen us play and
they always tell me,

"Wheeler, man, do you
remember that time that

"you had that band and you
played with whoever, man,

"over at Adrian's, man? Wow!"

So that was the whole thing.

Yeah, fur, Max Max, dune
buggies, Charles Manson,

like come on, man.

There's nothing cool
about Charles Manson,

you know what I mean?

You know, I guess it's the
fantasy of hopeless thought

and all that...
what is this? Dig?

It's hard to jam when
you're a punk band.

You can
make a bunch of noise

and go through the same four
chords over and over again.

Once you discover that,
then it's like, whoa,

there's way more going
on here than just

high energy...

You know, there's so much
more to music than that.

We converted
the garage into a jam room,

and we just played
music, everyday.

Scott had taken off to play
with Whino and The Obsessed.

And then Gary came
and lived with us.

And that's how that
whole thing started

with Yawning Man.

There is a
classic desert guy, you know?

Someone who is not a follower.

He'd
just put on the guitar

and mess with it
with hims thumb.

And it started to
sound kinda cool.

Gary's this
handsome Mexican dude

and together with Boomer
and Larry and Fredo,

it painted such a strange
picture of a band.

The thing is that the
music sounds nothing alike,

but that's the point.

It's such a strange
juxtaposition

of different schools of playing.

It wasn't
so much about creating

this really interesting
thing to listen to

as it was about how
enjoyable it was to play

and just flow.

Mario
is the one guy

that I've always
thought, you know,

deserved most of the
credit for everything.

Boomer had something special
down to his song titles.

"This song's called
'Three-legged Table'."

And I would be like, "wow,
that's fucking deep."

He was always a few
years ahead of his time.

When grunge got big,

initially I was like,
"Mario's been doing something

"down this road for five
years, you know, before this,

"and he ain't
asking for nothing."

Mario is always...

He's always been humble.

He would always
put his band lower.

Mario's that kind of human, man,

he's not...

But who plays guitar
like Mario, man? Nobody.

You know what I mean? Fuck.

500
times in a row.

Watching guys
like Boomer when I was 12,

13 years old,

I remember thinking

that Boomer was unheckleable.

There was no way you
could say, "You suck!"

He was so... he meant it so much.

And I remember thinking,

"that's what I wanna
be, is unheckleable."

At the time Boomer
was a really big guy.

And his cousin, Larry,

like a stick skinny.

They were the same height,

so they were just this
beautiful odd couple.

Good
pussy for my man Boomer.

("Good Pussy" by Sean
Wheeler and Zander Schloss

* Call it what you will

* See it how you must

* You got a broken tool when
it comes to those you trust

* You missed the flashing signs

* For you should wake to find

* Good pussy's like heroin

* You're better off
with that cheap wine

* She gonna steal your heart,
she gonna rot your mind

* She gonna make it hard,
brother, for you to do that time

* I told you more than once

* Told you more than twice

* Good pussy's is a fool's game

* You got better rolls with dice

* Now you're running high

* Got your back against the wall

* Good pussy on a mountain top

* But now it's time to fall

* She gonna steal your heart,
she gonna rot your mind

* She gonna make it hard,
brother, for you to do that time

* There really ain't no rainbows

* Falling down on gold

* Good pussy is the devil's tale

* Don't say you ain't been told

* Good pussy is the devil's tale

* don't say you ain't been told

* I know it don't add up

* Count it back from nine

* Good pussy like heroine

* You're better off
with that cheap wine

* Good pussy like heroine

* You're better off
with that cheap wine

* Good pussy like heroine

* You're better off
with that cheap wine.

Punk rock, at
that time, punk in the desert,

was allowed for a
huge span of music.

There were a lot less
formal ways to dress,

a lot less formal ways to play

than the word
"punk" implies now.

It was a very open scene.

And there were
varieties of styles

within individual bands.

There wasn't a
particular desert look,

or a specific desert sound.

All the bands were very unique

and had their own individuality.

In LA, if
you went to a punk show,

there'd probably
be punk rockers.

In the desert, you're
just gonna go to a party

and whatever band's playing,

everyone's gonna be there,

whether it's the football
players from high school...

It doesn't matter who,
it's just a party.

The party's first, and
you know, format second.

It's just a gathering
of people that are bored

and wanna go somewhere
beer and get laid.

You know, you put these
bands together, they break up.

They reform into something else.

We've been in bands together.

We've been seeing each
other's bands forever.

We've been in the same
band but at different times

and we weren't playing
with each other.

Yeah. And us, too.

Yeah.

That's kinda how it
works in the desert.

Punk sucks.

Punk pussies, faggots,

Sabbath, mother fucker, Ozzy.

The punkers didn't like
the rock metal heads.

Van Halen, mother fucker.

And I was like, "fuck you, man."

There's like the jammy
Official Dead click,

and then there's the fucking
thrash, heavy metal click.

'Cause we had long hair
and our fucking Nike's.

We were metal-ed out.

There was
a point in school where

all the punkers were pushed out

and all the rocker guys
were beating us up.

* Hey everyone

* Look at me.

All those stoners,

they were the enemy.

Those were the kids
we were fighting

when we were punk rockers.

They weren't us yet,

but we became the same
thing that was our enemy.

There's
this sense of community

and respect for other musicians,

and also that...

I would say, kind of an intense

sense of competition
you might have

with your brothers
and sisters in a way.

You know, there's like,
some shit-talking.

When Kyuss was starting,

all you got was a
lot of talk of like,

"Fucking Kyuss is just
trying to be Yawning Man."

If you sounded
like someone else,

you got worse than made fun of,

you got nothing from anybody.

And then Kyuss
had done so well,

that there was almost the
sense that anybody else

that was making loud
music and doing well

was just trying to
fucking be Kyuss.

You know, it's a
little bit of that

small town thing that happens.

I loved my friends, but I
was glad to get away from them.

I was glad to move
to a different town

and have a different
life at the time.

I wanted to be near the water.

And it's not because I surf,

it's not because I go fishing,

it's because it's
not the desert.

I visited San
Francisco with Nick

and I fell in love
with the place.

Oh, look Mike.

What did you think
about Elmer Gantry?

I need to
go out of my house,

have an aperitif
and some coffee,

have someone spit at me,

walk on human shit and
have shows every night.

Couple crackers.

Try to sell me crack.

I like that.

Looks like a phone contract.

That shows promise for Yo Daddy.

Is that Yo Daddy of
Bayview, or Yo Daddy of...

Mission Street.

Yeah, 1288 Mission Street.

Okay.

I know a few Yo Daddies.

There's more
variety, you know?

You want...

I don't know, you
want a she-male dwarf

to piss in your face?

It's easier to find
in San Francisco.

San Francisco is
probably the best choice

of places to move
to from the desert.

We coulda moved to LA but,

LA seems kind of lame.

LA was much worse
than it is now.

In the late 80s and it was like.

Sunset Strip glam-rock bullshit.

Yeah, I don't think
bands in the desert

would wanna come
and be part of that.

It's LA, it's
a big metropolis.

You grew up
hating Los Angeles.

LA, lots of people.

It's just too many people.

I lived in Los
Angeles for about five years.

To finally have this,

it's like living in slow motion.

I can make a lot of noise.

I can't imagine moving
back to the city.

That's just gonna
be in those mellow...

I went to
high school with Zack

and Eric.

And when they wanted to
work here, I was thrilled,

old friends.

They brought in Mario
Lalli and Sean Wheeler

and Joe Dylan, all
these old friends

from the high school
days, the early punk days.

It was awesome.

I love Dali's Lama,

Zach is amazing,
great songwriter.

Making change for people.

They give me bigger bills

and I break them
into smaller bills.

11:45 to 8:00 in the morning.

Rock'n roll hours.

And then I clean the booths,

mop the jiz out of the booths.

Mike works here too,

he's working tomorrow morning.

He's doing the janitor shift,

he'll be mopping jiz
tomorrow morning.

That was a lot of fun.

Full moon,

see him play, drink
a beer, kicking back.

When Fatso Jetson was playing
I was on top of your band,

that was awesome, that
was like the old days.

Well, it's not as
cool as playing out

in the middle of the
desert with a generator.

* Itchy brother's gone away

* Itchy brother's gone away

* Itchy brother's gone away

* Itchy brother's gone away

* Itchy brother's gone away

* Itchy brother's gone away

* Itchy brother's gone away

* Itchy brother's gone away.

Thank you, guys.

Just, I
felt stuck here, really.

I still feel like
that sometimes.

It's not a bad place to be

now that I've opened my eyes.

This hill
we're on is called Edom Hill.

A lot of people come up
here and party and shoot

and drink and hangout.

He's dead, but this is the

rare Coachella Valley monkey.

They come up from Mexico.

Looks pretty good
for being dead, huh?

You can go out in the
desert and blow shit up.

You can fucking shoot guns.

Explode things,
ride motorcycles.

And you can play music.

This guy
named Stuart Swezey,

who did a thing called
Desolation Center,

he did two generator parties.

The first one was
with the Minutemen

and Einsturzende
Neubauten from Germany.

The second one was with
Red Cross, Meat Puppets,

and a band called Sonic Youth.

I met Mario and
Scott and Alfredo

and they suggested do the
generator show in the desert.

So Mario and Larry bought
their own generator

and did by themselves.

On music talent alone,

Mario deserves an
awful lot of credit,

but also for doing it, and
providing things like that

for the scene.

This would be great place
for a generator party.

Relatively close to the cities,

and it's got one entrance

and it's just surrounded
by these huge canyons,

it's like a big bowl.

And then over here is this
little cave-like canyon,

where it'd be great for
the stage and stuff.

I think the sound would
really just stay in here.

This is the entrance,

so you'd have the
band right here.

You could actually put the
generator back far enough

where you wouldn't hear it.

When I was in
Across the River,

we'd set up our gear

and basically practice
outside and just jam.

At night, there's a lot of...

It's really clear and
you can see the stars

and you just feel like
you're just floating around

on a rock.

What we did in the
desert with the generator

is set up,

and play.

And maybe it was shit,

but...

Maybe it was fucking
amazing, too.

There were a lot
of jam sessions

where you really didn't know
exactly where it was gonna go.

It's gonna be the
most amazing feeling,

or you're gonna fall
flat on your face

and it's scary when
you get to that place.

It was just
insane with energy,

and the people were so
excited by the music,

it was something that
you didn't see in LA.

You could have
someone improvising

on an instrument
you didn't expect,

someone singing crazy-like
in a Diamanda Galas style,

it was all whatever.

As real in entertainment

as the Colosseum was
in Rome at the time.

A friend of mine said,
"This is not a rock show,

"this is a tribal ritual."

I think there was a
naked guy running around,

just people boiling with
energy and excitement

and they were so into the music

that we'd never seen before.

We had no idea what was going on

and we could see
there was something

really special going on there.

It needed to
be almost like excessively

whatever style it was in
order to function outside.

If you were gonna be heavy,
you had to be real heavy.

Everyone had four wheel drives

and you'd drive by police
that were buried in the sand

trying to stop you to get
you to help dig them out.

And you'd just roost them,

drive past them.

- There's a party?
- Where's the party?

It was all word of mouth.

And there was the
certain spots that

you knew where it would be.

It'd be the middle of summer,

and me or one of my friends
or someone would go,

"Hey, there's a light up on
the hill at the Nude Bowl,

"let's go," and we'd
go round up our friends

and be up there within
about 20 minutes.

Nude Bowl
was an actual nudist colony

and you know, it just went
defunct, it fell apart.

Beautiful bowl to skateboard,

set up generators,
shoot guns, camp,

do whatever you
want, free for all.

The walls
were up, there was no roof.

People are hanging
in the windows

and on top of the
walls like monkeys.

And it was just beautiful.

I would actually spend my
days there, too, skateboarding.

And then I had a
microphone in my hand.

It's about 20 years too late

but they finally
built a park out here.

They built a Nude Bowl replica.

It's basically just a
replica in the sense that

it's a left-handed kidney.

But yeah, it's good to
see that they're still

remembering it somewhat.

Lots of people, lots of drugs,

lots of freaks,
lots of violence,

lots of, you know, sex.

We used to do a lot of...

We would party a lot.

We were all under
21 back then, too,

so you could drink,

and do different substances.

You'd take acid and
go crazy in the desert.

There's
a fire pit in the pool

and people were skating
around the fire pit.

Like there's flames going.

And bands would be playing

and you'd just see their
shadows through the fire.

The sound...

It hurt.

And then somebody got in
a fight in the swimming pool

and everybody starts yelling,

"Two men enter, one man leaves.

"Two men enter, one man leaves."

Gunfire in the background.

Tumbleweeds, people
falling on the cactus.

No rules.

Bands playing above where
the people are fighting

and that was like...

Anarchy.

It was
a bunch of shitheads.

And they're going
around in a circle

creating a typhoon of dust.

Dust would get in the cones

so we'd be playing
with blown-out speakers

and crappy sounding.

And you know, they were
having a great time,

but it was like,
this sounds terrible,

we're playing terrible,

and these people
don't fucking care.

And it was the chaos
that they liked.

Roll around in
the fucking dirt.

Roll around in
the fucking dirt.

You don't
know what could happen.

Roll in the dirt, roll in
the dirt, roll in the dirt.

And you're
always on the edge,

you're like keeping your
keys in your pocket,

like, "Oh, fuck, should
I get in the car and go?"

And that was good, that was
genuine, you know what I mean?

That was where it made
it feel more real.

Sometimes it was dark,

like weird, a lot of drama,

people that had to get their
anger out in the desert

an do their thing, get drunk,
throw shit at each other,

whatever they needed to do.

Some nights it would
be Mexican gang members

on LSD with shotguns.

And you'd be like,
"This fucking sucks."

Sometimes the partying
became a huge issue.

And partying's a nice way to put

because it got pretty

self destructive
and pretty crazy,

like sick in a way, you know?

I remember one year,
probably about '95,

I played with Decon
at the Nude Bowl.

In the middle of us playing,

somebody tapped
me on the shoulder

and kept pointing behind me.

I didn't know what
he was talking about

because I was
singing at the time.

I turned around, there was
a fire coming over the hill.

And everybody just
scattered, got in their cars,

tried to get down
as fast as we could.

200 people had to evacuate.

We're started throwing
all the instruments

in different cars.

I don't know how we
got all our stuff, man.

One of
our friends ended up

having to leave his truck there.

It got stuck in the dirt
and his truck burnt.

It totally exploded, burnt up.

And then the next morning,

the whole scene of cops and
everyone that was on the scene

were blaming him.

They thought for insurance
purposes or something,

he burnt his truck.

They're like, "So you're the
guy who started the fire."

"What are you talking about?

"There was a huge party."

They're like, "What?"

He was like, "You
mean you didn't know

"there was a huge party
of like 600 people

"and bands and everything?"

Shows the communication between
law enforcement at the time.

What was great about playing
in the canyons and stuff

is that the police
never knew where it was.

The party would
hide behind the dunes,

low enough down there that
you couldn't really see much.

You'd see maybe a
glow or some crap,

but it wasn't much, you know.

Then they got the helicopters,

and then they got two,

and then within, like, what?

The late '90s?
That shit was done.

You couldn't party
anywhere for more

than like an hour,
an hour and a half.

Layers and layers of paint.

If you look and get close,

you can still see
layers of paint

from all the cool graffiti.

As
The time went on,

kind of like the
scene, actually,

it started to crumble,

and it just became
a slab with no walls

and just trash.

With the hillside burnt,

and a car turned
over in the roadway.

I think it
was a really special place.

Can you imagine?
Look at this view.

We had a contest

back in March, I believe,

and it was the first
annual Nude Bowl Tribute.

A lot of kids showed up,

a lot of really good kids

skating in the contest.

Yeah, I'm sure the younger
generation knows for sure.

All right, here we go.

Oh, that's it.

Good night

for the Nude Bowl.

What the fuck?

Let's try to make a
club in the desert.

Get away.

Hey, hey, no cameras.

PA system, and keg box,

cold beer on tap
and a pizza oven.

And we were just like, "What
would be the perfect situation

"for a rock and roll club?"

A big development
in the scene was

when Mario and his
cousin Larry Lalli

opened Rhythm and
Brews in India.

Our gourmet chef.

There we are.

Here I am.

What's
on the menu tonight?

One guess.

The usual?

So that was
even radder than the desert

in a lot of way because
it was comfortable

and you could play pool.

There was actually a
sound system you could hear,

and if the wind was
blowing 80 miles an hour,

your mic stand would
stay standing up.

You know what I mean?

Your cymbals wouldn't
blow off the stands.

It was good for that.

You'd sleep on the couches,

get up, clean the place,

open up, have
another band show up,

and Mario would get up and play.

We'd practice there and stuff,

it was like a 24-hour thing.

Sometimes, I remember,
I think it was.

Pigmy Love Circus or
something like that,

played for me and
Mario and Larry

and we had a pitcher
of beer, a pizza,

and us three sitting
there watching the band,

and that was it.

Rhythm and
Brews was my training ground.

I was like 15 at the time.

I was probably
weird to some people

as like a rocker with long hair

and whatever.

But at that place,

I was like, I fit in.

And it was all the time.

There'd be weeknights

where some band would come in

from out of town.

Played just a
few parties out in the desert

and then they'd come to
LA to play real shows.

We'd only play in front
of 40, 50, people,

friends back then, you
drink beer and, you know,

take drugs and whatever.

At that time,
this area was so rich in music

that Mario was looking for
a place to showcase it.

But you had to pay
bills and permits

and deal with the police.

And all that shit ended up
shutting us down after a year.

- They put undercover
cops inside the buildings

and they were just
looking for opportunities

to arrest underage kids.

How old were you
when you were going

to Rhythm and Brews?

15?

Were you drinking there?

Absolutely.

Yeah, so, that
didn't help Mario.

Minors in his bar drinking.

Acid in the parking lot.

After
they lost their license,

they got involved in a lawsuit

and all the musicians
got together

and put on a benefit
concert to support Mario

and the scene went
dormant for a while.

It really had
an identity of its own, then.

Kyuss was already
really kicking ass,

and Unsound was doing...

You know,

was doing huge parties with
hundreds of people there.

And I think the
scene's changed

every four years of high school.

You know what I mean?

You go through high school,

that's the band
that are playing.

Then those people graduate

and then there's a new
generation of people making music.

Unsound
was like Black Flag,

and Kyuss was like
Black Sabbath, you know?

We were two totally
different things,

but the same thing.

When Kyuss played with
Early On, we were like:

Which is great,

because you need that challenge.

We got a
little bit of press and stuff

locally in the desert newspaper.

That was kind of
cool and I remember

the Flip Side interview.

"Oh man, we made it,
we're in Flip Side,

"the punk rock bible."

Unsound is probably
the one band that

people that would be
into desert rock music

wouldn't know, but they
were one of the best.

We'd go to LA and
they'd get super wasted

and blow it and
piss off the people

that were supposed to
be kissing their ass,

and me and Ian would get in
a knife fight in the kitchen

and Brian Maloney would
puke inside their car.

Whatever the case was, it
was just we weren't ready

to deal with anything
semi-professional.

We couldn't
handle the pressure,

we fell apart.

Unsound died in the early '90s.

Unsound lives.

Unsound rules.

I don't know.

See? Nobody knows.

When I was 13, I was in a band

in Palm Desert called Today.

And while I was in that band,

Chris Cockrell and I decided
to start our own band,

it would be called Katzenjammer.

That would evolve into Kyuss.

Brant got
a friend named Josh Homme

to play guitar.

We thought we were like
a punk band, basically.

We thought we were this
heavy version of a punk band.

Everyone else thought we
were heavy metal, you know?

Which actually bugged the
shit out of me for years.

At one point, we
had Nick Oliveri,

who was another friend
of ours from school

try out on guitar.

Nick was the
one stoner dude that hung out

with all of us guys that
weren't into metal, you know?

But Nick has definitely
made up for it in punk rock

in a sense, hasn't he?

Nick was already known
as the loose canon.

He was already getting fucked
up before school, you know.

He was like 14 years old.

And Nick has one of the most
infectious laughs of all time.

And
then, of course later

he replaces me on bass.

* I lost my job

* I lost my way

* But I still got a beer.

Why they broke
out, I don't know.

You ever listen to The Wretch?

The first Kyuss thing?

I went out and bought it

and I was like, "This
is the worst shit

"I ever heard in my life."

And they put out
a fucking record.

Yeah, but now you can sell
it for a couple hundred bucks.

Yeah, but I was like, "Man,
I could put out a record.

"I could take my
band more seriously

"and wanna put out
some piece of shit

"that no one else likes.

"Fuck yeah."

When we went to
record our first record,

Brat and I were 16 years old.

And we showed up with bass
cabinets for guitar cabinets

and bass amps for guitar amps.

The engineer was saying,
"You're gonna have to tune up.

"And you're gonna have
to get guitar amps.

"We can't do this like this."

So is that how
Kyuss influenced you?

That's how Kyuss
influenced me, yes.

But I did start liking them

after a couple of
records after that.

I had no idea
on the levels of success.

Kyuss was reaching.

Heard of them playing in Europe

and this "stoner rock" title.

It's weird
when people say that.

Kyuss started stoner rock.

When I was in Across the River,

there were a lot
of jam sessions,

and Kyuss did that, too.

I think
people associate it

with two types of things,

desert rock with kind
of heavier, dirtier,

then I think there's also
this kind of spacious,

almost earthlings vibe.

The low
tuning was a thing.

Part
of why we tuned down

was to try to sound
heavy outside,

and also because I
couldn't afford a tuner.

I thought, "This is
something no one's doing

"that would make us different
before we even played a song."

I would just go blah.

They got asked
to open for, what was it...

Metallica in Australia.

I remember that was like, what?

They opened up for Metallica.

"Those guys suck,
they sold out."

That's how everyone
was, I'm sure. I'm sure.

It's funny 'cause
the reaction was like,

"Pfft. Do well, but
don't do too well."

What I call punk rock guilt.

The desert
rock scene was so...

I'm saying this cautiously
but kind of arrogantly,

insulated.

It didn't want any attention.

Basically, this was a
true underground scene.

These people were
performing without permits,

and since this was
really guerrilla style,

they didn't want the publicity.

The point
was always just to make

some music and enjoy playing.

And I think we've always
been kind of scared

of turning it into a business.

If Nirvana didn't
break out, you know,

punk rock and alternative
out to the world,

who knows what
would have happened.

I don't know, would Josh Homme
be playing with Dave Grohl?

20 years later?

Kyuss broke up.

Josh went up to Seattle and
that scene kind of broke up,

but out of that came
Queens of the Stone Age

and you know what happened
with Queens of the Stone Age.

It's hard
to mix art and commerce,

it's a tough thing.

And if you can do
that, you know,

and you're brilliant at it,

that's awesome.

We went to elementary
school together,

and I hated him with a passion

because our class and his class

were competing in
every sporting event

and they'd always kick our ass.

You look fucking wonderful.

That dude was always
like very supportive

of local bands and shit.

I asked him, "Hey,
can Throw Rag do a.

"Queens of the Stone Age tour?"

And he said, "Sure."

And took us on tour.

All I did was ask.

* Heaven smiles above me

* What a gift here below

* But no one knows

* Gift that you give to me

* No one knows.

Shit's
all right, man,

put this shit on a
map, for sure, man.

It's a success, you know,

we wouldn't be talking about
the desert, I don't think.

* Super duper pooper
scooper kissing on my chin

* Little bratty bunker
squad kicking at my shins

* Ugly duckling sweetie
pies, everybody friends

* Stuck in a loopty
loop, everybody wins

* They win, they win

* They win

* Everybody wins

I know
guys that have been...

Are really amazing musicians

and have worked their
asses off all their life.

"What the f... you're going to...

"How the fuck do you do that?

"How did that happen that you
can go to Europe and play?"

I'm like, "You know,
it's a long story,

"but it started honestly with
this band from the desert..."

And I try to explain this
whole thing, you know, like,

"Started with this
band from the desert

"that got some success and
they get a couple good tours

"and then they got
kinda big in Europe

"and somehow that
ended up in us getting

"the opportunity to go play
in some fucking pizzeria

"in Latina, Italy."

And it's like, "How?"

I'm super
grateful for that.

And to me, that's success,

that's huge success.

* And I feel ashamed
when you work so hard

* Yeah I feel ashamed when
I see you work so hard *

It's not...

Usual that a father
and son will play...

In the same band.

Look at Mario

and look at Herb,
both of them play

in bands with their sons.

That's pretty bitchin.

When I see that, it
makes me wish I woulda

had a kid 19 years ago.

My son's in another
band called Nuclear Youth,

which is, you know,
early 20s, teenage guys.

And I think there's really
another scene kind of happening.

They play like
parties and stuff

and it's like a punk
band playing a party

and like where we live it's like

dj's and like techno music.

So, punk and metal is
still alive in the desert.

And maybe even
tonight, you know,

some high school party,
some kids parents are out

and there's a rad
band in high school.

I'm sure it's happening.

They're still singing
about the desert and 7/11

and stuff like that,

but they're just
doing it...

They're playing all the time.

There's parties on
Coachella, Thermal,

you know, at ranches and stuff.

And that's really kind
of what it was for us

back then at that age.

I wish I'd been around
when all that stuff happened

'cause it sounds so much
better than what goes down now.

Another
generation will go through it,

and it'll be a good thing.

It didn't matter
what you were on

or what you aren't on,

it's still a
surreal environment.

You think about
going out there

in the middle of the desert
and playing music for nobody,

and there's something kind of
romantic about that in a way.

You know?

And I like that.

Such wide, open space,

that I think a lot of the
bands from around have that.

What is unique
about the desert

was the desert, you know,

that's what is different
than everywhere else.

Beautiful mountains
and lots of palm trees,

but there's also
elements of the desert

that's not so physical,
that are just like...

Eternal.

It's
weird and it's cool

that there's
attention paid to it

from people that
are not from there.

Basically, golf and old
people and daydreamers.

And Swedish people looking
for something special.

If it will fit into what
they might think it is,

if they think that it's a
bunch of bands that are heavy,

that sound like Kyuss,

then no, that's not
what it's about.

That's never been
what it's about.

But if they think about it
in the beauty of the desert

and the purity of the music

and the bands that
played down there,

then I think that is true.

* Bring me three poison arrows

* Long, straight, and narrow

* I found bad advice

* Way down here on the water

* Words get forgotten

* Can say what we like

* Is this love?

* Can we start again?

* Comes crashing in

* Lord knows what
truth to tell the liar

* The brothers in the fire

* Turning lies into life

* To a life of all the lessons

* Till you still don't
know what's right

* Is this love?

* Can we start again?

* Comes crashing in

* Is this love?

* Can we start again?

* Comes crashing in

* Bring me three poison arrows

* Long, straight, and narrow

* I found bad advice

* I'm the way down
here on the bottom

* Words get forgotten

* We say what we like

* Is this love?

* Can we start again?

* Comes crashing in.

Are you rolling?

Wanna roll a joint?

So
There's a saying

I've heard from old
India friends of mine,

"You have sand in your blood."

"Your family, my family,
we got sand in our blood."