Guest guest Posted May 17, 2006 Report Share Posted May 17, 2006 from a local paper NOTE...not all is G-rated.. Behind the massive red door a man with a shaven head, wearing plaid pants, black-rimmed glasses, faux-leather combat boots, a bondage belt and a hefty array of neck jewelry and wristbands collects money hand-over-fist as an eager crowd tries to push through the door to watch the first band on tonight’s B.O.B Fest venue. It is the fourth day of the six-day punk music festival—called B.O.B. for the deep connections between the tight-knit punk communities of Bath, England, Oakland, California and Bremen, Germany—featuring 28 bands from around the world. Just past the door chaos ensues as a man in black and white face-paint wearing child flotation devices and adult diapers starts yelling at the black-clad crowd. “Hey you, stop looking at my t*ts and start eating my p*ssy, or I’m gonna smash you in the face!†A kiddie pool filled with fake blood is splashed around and gobs of the mess are flung at the audience, as are some diapers which are soaked with the red corn-syrup “blood.†Many in the crowd are repulsed, yet watch and cheer through the entire set. Outside the venue a crowd of people involved with the festival over the years hang out to catch up on old times. They hug each other and look at pictures of children. Some Oakland punks have moved to Bremen and Bath, while some from Bremen and Bath have moved to Oakland. The feeling of family is very deep. The B.O.B. Fest family is unlike large music scenes with so many people, no one could possibly know everyone. Everyone in the B.O.B. family has a connection with each other—celebrated with a bi-annual international punk music festival that is only held in these three connected cities. What motivates this far-flung family of freaks to hold a bi-annual punk-fest? The festival has less to do with music, and more to do with the global friendships that have been cultivated over the last decade and a half; it’s really more of an extended-family reunion; one that Kate Knox has been a part of since the early eighties. Kate Knox, 41, the matriarch of the Oakland B.O.B. Fest clan, is one of the lead organizers for this year’s B.O.B. Fest. Sporting colorful tattoos on her arms and legs, shoulder-length blondish hair—dyed so many times it’s not clear what color it used to be—and smoking Camel cigarettes, Knox doesn’t suffer fools lightly. On her first trip to Europe Knox follows the Bay Area band Fang during their 1985 tour; but instead of continuing on the tour, she stays in Bremen for a few months. Her mother is from Germany, and her father is a retired German professor, so Kate’s ability to speak German made her many friends that were involved with Bremen’s highly organized punk community. Through punk music she met many people from Bath and grows close to them as well. After losing her mother when she was thirteen, and feeling alienated by the rest of her family, punk provided armor for her that she proudly wears today. Her friends in Bremen, Bath and Oakland are her family; a sentiment many of the visiting Europeans and Oakland punks share; it is the most important thing in her life. The B.O.B. Fest sticks to its roots as a do-it-yourself gathering that could only exist through the tireless efforts of its many volunteers. While many help make the festival a success—forty people per planning meeting the closer the festival comes—it is Kate Knox and a small crew of aging punks that have kept the festival going since its first festival in Bath, England, in 1996. This is the second time the B.O.B. Fest comes to Oakland. The first day of the festival takes place at Joaquin Miller Park in the Oakland hills. The early morning serenity of the park is soon replaced with hordes of punk rockers eager for barbecue and beer donated by Speakeasy Brewery in San Francisco. Volunteers show up as early as 10a.m. to set up camp and bring food and supplies down the steep trail that leads to Baywood picnic area: a large field with rows of picnic tables and two large concrete grills, one for meat with the other reserved for vegetarian fare. People arrive with more food—enough for a couple hundred—as merchandise for the festival is set up on one of the tables. The volunteers resemble a rag-tag crew of urban pirates complete with their own standard—a homemade flag that says “Pyrate Punx†festooned with a plastic skull and chains dangling down the sides; a macabre yet comical warning to others that this is now punk territory. Around noon, Pete Inc. sets up a Korean BBQ on one grill, as the vegetarians grill corn and vegan hot dogs on the other. Pete Inc. who, after many years of working with B.O.B. bands, feeds the malnourished with his B.O.B. Feast—he grills at every outdoor venue of the festival. After people eat and have a couple beers, it is time for punk-rules kickball. As there are far more people than can actually play the game, a crowd of cheering/jeering people scream support and insults at the players as the game progresses. Following the kickball game is the piñata smash. The piñata—filled with tiny liquor bottles, condoms, sticker, patches and other assorted adult oriented goodies—is shaped like a pig in a cop uniform. The Piñata is a reminder to some people of the problems with the police during the last Oakland B.O.B. Fest in 1998; when police, wanting to gain access into a venue, arrest the woman working the door. After a few blindfolded attempts the piñata opens, and the chaos that ensues resembles a rugby scrum, as people dive into the dirt looking for some booty. Following the dusty melee, several people engage in a friendly game of European football, while others continue visiting with old friends. For many, it’s the first time seeing each other since the last festival in Bremen in 2003. As the sun begins to set on the meadow, lots of people start picking up their stuff and prepare for the second part of today’s festivities: B.O.B. Fest art show and punk-rock karaoke at the Golden Bull, 412 14th St. near Broadway. The Golden Bull hosts the B.O.B. Fest art show, with pieces from several Bay Area artists who are connected to the B.O.B. Fest. Some pieces are photos from festivals past, while others are large paintings, collages and other multi-media pieces that represent the diversity of talent among the B.O.B. family. As people drink their cocktails and look at the art, the narrow bar starts to fill as Bill Collins, 46, starts his acoustic set of Irish drinking songs. Many in the crowd know the words and sing along. Mel Nichols, a Scottish immigrant with spiky hair and a mini-skirt knows the words to every song, and is up front loudly singing each verse. Knox works at Holden High, a small, private alternative school in Orinda, because of Bill Collins, who taught guitar classes there and played in several Bay Area punk bands. The school offers an alternative for students who don’t fit in with society. The ideology of the school fits perfectly with Knox, and her experiences as a teenager make it easier to relate to her students. Many of the punks Kate meets start volunteering and teaching at Holden High. She is now a co-director at the school. By now The Golden Bull is packed and the walls themselves seem to sweat. As soon as Collins finishes his set, Markley Hart, 38, decked out in a tuxedo with red bow-tie, matching cummerbund, Converse hi-tops and spiked blond hair, introduces the karaoke band, the Sonic Reducers. The band, made up of players from Oakland punk bands, has a set list of nearly thirty songs that, when performed, sound spot on like the originals. As people clamor for the list to pick their favorite song for the live karaoke, Hart announces some raffle numbers for the many prize donations: Gene Simmons and Ozzy Osbourne action figures, punk albums, toys and lighters, and the grand prize, a $100 tattoo voucher from a local artist. As the band churns through its demanding set list, the audience becomes more and more involved. By the time Joe Franke, the heavily tattooed singer from Oakland rockers Fracas, swaggers on to the stage to sing Black Flag’s anthem “Rise Above,†the crowd mobs the mike and screams in unison with every chorus: Society’s arms of control; Rise above, we’re gonna rise above. Think they’re smart, can’t think for themselves; Rise above, were gonna rise above. Laugh at us behind our backs; Rise above, we’re gonna rise above. I find satisfaction in what they lack; Rise above, we’re gonna rise above. We are tired of your abuse. Try to stop us, it’s no use. Beer spilling and sweat dripping, spiked hair, tattoos, and flying bodies, the Golden Bull looks less like a karaoke club and more like a full-blown mosh pit. After the show, several of the out-of towners retreat to the homes of their Oakland friends. Knox’s house is the temporary home to seven people. No visitor is left looking for a place to stay. Inside a warehouse near Jack London Square—dubbed the Haz/Mat house by its residents—Pete “the Roadie†Hibbs furiously sets up the stage for the first band of night two of the B.O.B. Fest, and finds out who is using whose equipment. Roadie—wearing worn, black, Carhartt work pants, black t-shirt and a tool belt that looks like its seen combat—is the stage manager for all of the shows. With over thirty years of experience working with punk bands from Bremen, Oakland, and Bath, Roadie is in complete control of the stage. Roadie is gruff and direct; he is one of the original B.O.B. Fest organizers. His hair is twisted in to spiny tendrils that poke up from his head. His gray hair betrays his age, but anyone giving him a hard time might just walk away in tears. In 1996 he and his wife Paula—who moves to Bath from Oakland—put on the Bath punk festival. It isn’t called the B.O.B. Fest until it goes to Bremen in 1997. All evening shows must end by 11 p.m. The time restraints put a lot of pressure on Roadie who must make sure that everything not only runs smoothly as far as equipment is concerned, but that the set changes happen rapidly to accommodate all five bands who have agreed to share equipment with each other in the interest of saving time between sets. The inside of the warehouse is decked with pirate flags and other piratanical paraphernalia. I-beams on the ceiling are painted with piles of skulls, and one of the walls is covered with the lyrics of the warehouse’s resident band, Death by Excess, who volunteer heavily with the planning of the festival by providing venues, manning shows and obtaining permits from the city—a first in Oakland’s B.O.B. Fest history. Knox sits at the door taking money, selling passes, and enforcing a strict no-alcohol-outside rule, which is in effect to abide by the law so police have no reason to bust the festivities. Outside the warehouse taking snapshots is Daniel Bastian, a six-foot-two-inch German wearing a black and white flannel shirt. He talks with Jake Hout; an old friend who sings for Everything Must Go and has art hanging in the art show. Bastian asks Hout to take part in a book project he calls “100 Punks.†Bastian takes pictures of punks and asks them their favorite question. “What?†says Hout. Bastian is a graphic designer in Bremen, and knows Kate from meeting her there during Knox’s 1995 trip to Europe. Bastian comes to Oakland for the first time in 1986. Following Bastian come several more people from Bremen. Bastian meets his wife Maggie—a student at California College of Arts and Crafts—at the 1998 Oakland B.O.B. Fest as she was helping with the art show. After corresponding and visiting each other after the festival, they move in together in Bremen and marry in 2001. Bastian creates the logo and stationary for Knox’s school and keeps in constant contact with his Oakland friends. The first band blasts through its heavy set of furious-paced, metal charged mayhem. The crowd responds by violently smashing into each other. As soon as someone hits the floor, the others stop and pick them back up. After about a half hour, their set grinds to a halt, and the next band speeds through their thrash-core madness. People are still dancing. Brits and Germans who come for the B.O.B Fest are impressed with the show’s energy. Motorama, billed as a two-piece garage-rock band, are two Italian women who play one rocking hot set using only drums and guitar. As they play, people still go berserk; slamming into each other, spilling beer, flailing arms, legs and elbows. Headlining tonight are hard-core Oakland punkers, Strychnine. The sonic blitzkrieg that ensues proves their worth as one of the Bay Area’s best punk bands. The fans go nuts as Jimi Haze screams into his microphone “Fuck You! Fuck You!†with his tattooed arm holding high his middle finger, a move the crowd mimics with symbolic defiance to fear, repression, anger, any of the motivations that creates a punk. Strychnine plays all of the B.O.B. Festivals, touring Europe several times, bringing Oakland to Bath, Bremen, and many points beyond. The third evening of festivities takes place at the Arcadia Skate Hotel, 1638 W 7th St. in West Oakland. The exterior of the building looks like an abandoned storefront, but inside is a punk-rock freak-out: with a large stage, fluffy couches and benches, and a half-pipe for skaters who ride during the show ten feet from the stage. During one of the B.O.B. benefits last May, people were robbed outside the building. Tonight there are two massive security guards; with so many out-of-town visitors, Eric Thomas and Yapple Ruelas—who puts on the shows at this venue and has extensive experience dealing with the neighborhood—aren’t taking any chances after the benefit debacle. Ruelas’s massive frame is imposing and he uses that advantage to keep the sidewalk free of loiterers. Not only is alcohol forbidden outside the show, but people are being encouraged (forcefully if necessary) to either go back inside or leave. It works, as no people are robbed, accosted or otherwise molested. Friday’s gig at the Red Door, 4001 San Leandro Ave., in East Oakland, is in a smaller space than the previous nights’ shows, and the crowd quickly fills the small space to enjoy yet another night of punk music. Knox puts people to work at the bar and merchandise tables as she sets up for tonight’s venue. She is calling all the shots tonight; delegating responsibilities to her crew of volunteers for the evening. Inside things get a little bit crazy, and a couple people are thrown out. Not to be outdone by fake blood and diapers, Jake Hout, singer for Everything Must Go, climbs to the top of a lofty, thin wall behind the drum kit and precariously balances on the flimsy two-by-four support as he lights fireworks taped to his jacket. The band rips into its power-charged rock-and-roll set as Jake’s vest starts exploding; he hollers at the crowd below. Wearing a trench-coat, leather trousers and an East German police hat, Hout makes Mick Jagger look like a sissy. E.M.G. continues with its turbo-charged set as the packed crowd clamors to get a view of the spectacle. Headlining tonight’s venue is Fleas and Lice, who travel from Groningen, Holland and give their audience a power-charged set of apocalyptic hardcore. By Saturday the issue of space evaporates. Over 600 people attend the block party which is outside the Haz/Mat warehouse next to a freeway. Skullshare, a skill-sharing collective with a table at today’s event, sponsor the block party permit. There are punks from Mexico City, old B.O.B. friends with kids, several bands and their friends, parents of those involved and mohawked kids as young as thirteen who come out to see the headliner, Verbal Abuse, a band that breaks up before these kids are born. Even some people from the neighborhood pay the eight-dollar entrance fee to see the spectacle. Along the outside wall of the warehouse are tables with merchandise from several of the bands playing the festival. The stage is set up on the street outside the building; and behind the stage is a crew of San Francisco bicycle artists called Cyclecide, who set up pedal-powered rides for the day. Before the rides are ready the Cyclecide band takes the stage, playing twisted rockabilly music as members of their clowny clan perform on a wide array of crazy bikes. As they dare audience members to ride their bipedal creations, some of the group starts ramming into each other like bumper cars. The bicycle rodeo continues as a fire-belching monster-bicycle called the “Chupacabra†weaves in and out of melee. If things didn’t already seem a little dangerous, members of the troupe climbed upon double-high bikes for jousting. As if pain were not an option, the jousters ride their wobbly steeds at each other while trying to smack the opponent to the ground. After several passes audience members start hurling plastic cups or attack the riders with foam swords. The threat of danger aside, today’s venue is ideal for people with kids. Some want to try out the funky bikes, while others wait with the adults to take their turn on the Cyclofuge: a pedal-powered monstrosity with four swings that is powered by four pedalers that, depending on the energy exerted pedaling, causes the swings to fly out to the side as they spin around. While the rides are in full swing, so are the barbecues. People line up for vegan hot dogs and pulled pork alike. The line of customers to Pete Inc.’s counter is constant as he dishes out barbecued pork and vegan specialties alike. The day seems less like a punk show and more like a carnival. As more bands prepare themselves on stage the sun bakes the crowd. Jewdriver takes the stage as the lead singer Sean Farnan sets up his flammable Star-of-David. The band is a parody of the shocking Neo-Nazi band Skrewdriver. Most of the members of the band are Jewish and delight at making fun not only of the Nazis, but of themselves as well. The diversity of musical styles at the festival is most noticeable today with styles ranging from country tinged cow-punk to heavy thrashing grind-core; the festival brings together different music styles in the name of B.O.B. While the bands play, Bastian interviews more punks for his “100 Punks†project. He asks Steve “Trip†Hunt, guitarist for Ding Dang, a country-punk band that reunites for the festival. His beard is braided into two thin silver braids that hang down his chin and his voice raspy from his punk-rock-outfreakage performance. Trip and Bastian have known each other since the first B.O.B Fest. “What is your favorite question?†Bastian asks. “Why not?†Trip answers. As the end of the festival nears, many who put so much energy into the festival are feeling a mix of sadness and exhaustion; and at the final show, some people are showing some raw nerves. The show is held in the massive yard of a house in East Oakland. The crowd at today’s show is much smaller, and consists almost solely of bands, their close friends, the visiting Europeans and the B.O.B. Fest organizers. The people who do come to the show are treated to yet another fast-paced afternoon of loud music, although by now several people have to yell with raspy voices to be heard. The bands rip through their sets as people dance, kicking up dirt and gravel. When Fracas takes the stage, some fans wait to see what crazy stunt the lead singer, Franke—who resembles a tattooed wolverine—will perform today. Fracas boasts a rather lengthy list of injuries and hospitalizations over the years, not only from Franke’s antics, but through random violence from the crowd. Franke does fall off a speaker cabinet as he howls at the crowd, but emerges only slightly bloody. Wrapping up the festival is English hardcore band 7 Crowns. John “the Brit†Montague, 35, is the lead singer for the Bath-based four piece and tells the assembled how happy he is to be playing. His connections with B.O.B. run as far back to his school days with Roadie; while he lives in Bremen, his band consists of people from Bremen, Oakland and Bath. Knox sits smoking in the sun, drinking a Bud-Lite and rests from the six-day party. Still giddy from the success of the festival, she trades stories with the houseful of people that has been sleeping on the floors and couches of her East Oakland home for the past couple weeks. The leftover euphoria is soon replaced with a sadness that it’s all over, and it may be another two years before they all see each other again. Daniel Bastian and Maggie are leaving for Canada in a couple days. 7 Crowns is leaving on tour. Kate and her boyfriend Mikhail are leaving for a wedding in Maine. Even though the festival is over, the hectic schedule everyone has kept the last few weeks is far from slowing down. As soon as Kate returns from Maine, she has to start preparing for the upcoming school year; it leaves no room for long goodbyes. In 2007 people will convene in Bath for the next B.O.B. Fest, bringing the punk-rock circus to the West Country of England; the site of the original gathering. In the planning stages of the festival, some want to make the festival much bigger and get sponsorships or play in clubs, but that’s not the point. The festival will continue in some shape or form as the original cadre gets older. Fleas and Lice, impressed by the idea of B.O.B. Fest, are starting a festival of their own with punks in Ireland and Glasgow, Scotland—called Groningen, Ireland, Glasgow Festival-or G.I.G. From the first mention of the B.O.B. Fest in a dank English squat to the sunny shores of California for its sixth incarnation, the B.O.B. Fest remains true to its DIY idealism, whether or not Knox has anything to do with it. “This family can never die,†says Marco, 40, who travels from Bremen with his 9-year-old daughter, Cheyenne. Marco is incredibly impressed by the level of organization in this year’s festival. His relationship with Knox spans twenty years. Countless shows, drunken nights and heartaches, they remain as close as family. “These friendships last forever,†he says. 7 Crowns starts the final set of the B.O.B. Fest with a song called “Steintourâ€â€”a song about the Steintor area of Bremen, an area popular with visitors to Bremen, and home to several friends and hangouts that the punks frequent. It is a fast-paced but sentimental song that speaks to the layered relationships that B.O.B. fosters through the years: This is it kid, after all these years. A picture painted in blood, cum and tears. Won’t be the first kid, won’t be the last. It may well kill you, but it’s gonna be a blast. One idea that Kate shares with Marco, Pete, Paula, John, and others who put so much love and energy to making the festival a success: How about skipping the shows and meeting on a beach in Mexico next time? ### Sources Kate Knox, (510)261-6196 Markley Hart, (510)654-5124 Pete and Paula Hibbs, (510)653-3448 Bill Collins, (203)562-6863 Yapple Ruelas, yapple01, 1638 W 7th St., Oakland, CA Brian hood, (510)967-0334 Fraggle, (510)653-2321 Seamus Cummins, scummins37 Noah Landis, (510)499-6161 Pete Inc., (510)898-1110 John Montague & 7 Crowns, liam Daniel Bastian, bastian Marco Z., hellkutter Mikhail Zubovich, (925)766-9138, ponk_111 Maggie Rapuano, 49-421-704524, maggietie Jake Hout, (510)653-1619 Contra Costa Alternative School-Holden High, (925)254-0199, http://www.ccas-holden.org/ Pyrate Punx, http://www.wethepunx.com/libertatia2.html Steve “Trip†Hunt, (707)823-4831 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.