when I was a sophomore in High School and a mere 14
years old (being accelerated academically, but retarded
socially). All the media was a buzz with the “horrible antics”
of this “new” teen movement led by the awful degenerate
band called the Sex Pistols. As in any train wreck, my
psyche was fixated on any little tidbit of this thing called
Punk Rock Music. Being shy and not a stand out, I listened
from a distance as the Senior’s at my high school told tales
of the performance of the now legendary Sex Pistols in
Dallas, at the Long Horn Ballroom. Little did I know then how
the events of that day in 1978 would affect my future.
This brush with Punk Rock lodged a dysfunctional seed in
my being, that lay dormant festering. I moved through the
rest of my high school years thinking I was punk with my
army fatigue pants and horizontal stripped shirts. But the
music I was exposed to was Frank Zappa, Rush, & the Bee
Gees. Not until the summer after my graduation from high
school did it all start making sense.
Since the drinking age back in 1980 was 18 years old in
Texas, and I was a 17 year old high school graduate, I would
sneak into clubs with my fellow “legal” buddies, pretending
to be the “stuff”. My first Punk Rock show was at a Dallas
Dive known as “DJ’s”. It was a place where you brought
your own liquor with you, and ducked flying chairs. I
swaggered in with friends to a punk rock paradise. I can’t
even tell you the name of the band, but what they were
doing was like nothing I had ever been exposed to. My
senses were alive with spastic music that aligned totally with
my own spastic self.
I barreled into college, and before you could say 1,2,3, I
WAS indoctrinated into a whole new world of anarchy.
College life was good. College radio was the best,
sparking a whole new vocabulary of bands which brought a
no holds bar on punk music.
On those hot summer early eighties nights in Texas, I would
dress up in my “thrift store” finds and head out into the
evening to the “dangerous” part of town where the Hot Klub
was located. During this time period this lil’ ole’ college girl
experienced many now legendary punk bands, of course my
favorites being the Texas Punk bands such as the
Telefones, Big Boys, NCM, Nervebreakers, Stick Men with
Rayguns, Dicks, Scratch Acid, The Mydolls, and countless
other bands in my brain that are memories held on to by a
thin thread of brain matter from this time period.
At the time, I deemed myself a bad ass punk with attitude,
punking it up. By 1984 punk had a growing club scene with
the opening of Dallas classic venues like Liberty Hall aka
Circle A aka Twilight Room, Theater Gallery and all the
“make shift” halls/garages that bands played. Saw lot’s of
shows, a few I can harness detail around are: sitting out in
the parking lot drinking warm Shaffer before a Minutemen
show; Gibby of the Butthole Surfers almost torching the
Twilight Room with his cymbal shenanigans, with every clang
the flames licked the ceiling; Johnny Thunders jumping off
stage to bludgeon a patron with his guitar, standing on the
outskirts of the pit watching the Dead Kennedys when the pit
broke loose and a huge punk tumbling into my friend,
breaking her big toe (after that I wore steel toed docs);
Xene Cervenka working the crowd up to riot mode at Nicks
Uptown on Greenvile, while Billy Zoom merely smiled, his
glistening grin reflecting off the hot cheap stage lights; Sonic
Youth on their EVOL tour, me unable to take my eyes off of
Kim Gordon’s “man hands” while Thurston’s guitar sound
laser -ed a hole in my brain …. What can I say … good
times! My college education was in the toilet, but my punk-o-
rama senses were tingling.
I spiraled on through the mid-eighties taking a hiatus from
school, working and spending every penny on records. I
eventually went back to school and earned a Business
Degree in between working, hanging out at shows and
drinking Shaffer. One day while sitting in a shitty downtown
office doing shitty office work, a light bulb went on in my
head just like in the cartoons. Cartoon bubble reads: "I will
combine my business knowledge and love of music by
opening a record store."
Flash forward ... 1989, April 1st, Fools Day. Direct Hit
Records opens it's doors. I thought it more than appropriate
that opening day to be April Fools, seeing as anything to do
with music is a one in a trillion odds to ever make money,
but I can say right now that the years I spent making Direct
Hit are some of my fondest memories of actual happiness.
I opened the doors by throwing a keg party in the store
(never having worked a day in retail made operating a cash
register and giving correct change a challenge). Friends,
family and WAY TO MANY strangers showed up to drink
beer and celebrate (i.e. raise hell). With a very modest
inventory, this single opening day grossed the highest sales
of my entire sales history at Direct Hit. Go Figure? Opening
day was indeed Grand. I went home that evening ecstatic
and loaded, to a house full of guest from out of town, where
we carried on the party till wee morning hours.
The first Direct Hit in-store occurred shortly after opening.
My friend Joe Christ was booking bands at a local club, and
hooked me up with the Honeymoon Killers. They showed up
at the store to an overwhelming local support ... me, Joe
Christ, and 2 ladies from KNON (Garrett & another girl who I
can't quiet remember her name). So, did we wallow in
despair, HELL NO! The Band rolled a joint and smoked it
while they tried to record a big howdy with the call letters to
KNON in the entry "parlor" of Direct Hit. This was a
continuous scene to be repeated over and over again ...
Coolest underground music at your very doorstep, but
nobody in Dallas heard the door bell ring. (other
instores include: acoustic set by Yo La Tengo while touring
for "Fakebook", Sleep Chamber instore with a keg of beer,
Pool party with Helmet & Jawbox - more details as time
progresses in this monolouge...
