Dead D.H. Peligro RIP

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

It is always a shock when someone from the original punk scene passes away. Our youthful rebellion was vulnerable… we all aged and still feel that strong connection. I do and I try not to get me too much into it.

All of those drumbeats of so many songs that moved us. I did not know all the players as I may have wanted to. Yet we were all connected. A punk scene where all of our voices are still echoed in podcasts and fans galore.

It is all good. It is sad good. Yet as I pull back, I am always pulled in again about that amazing scene. Where we all worked towards something. Bands, fans, fanzines, or promoters. It is just not the same now… but there are times when those feelings come to visit. I call it the curse of punk rock.

Dead D.H. Peligro RIP

I edited this together today…. a little sad but fun.

The Mind Shaft Club 1977

Mind Shaft Fever

My Mind Shaft days a hurricane of life all contained in a year or two. So much happened.

“I guess you’re just what I needed (just what I needed)
I needed someone to feed
I guess you’re just what I needed (just what I needed)
I needed someone to bleed”I guess you’re just what I needed (just what I needed)
I needed someone to feed
I guess you’re just what I needed (just what I needed)
I needed someone to bleed

I don’t mind you comin’ here
And wastin’ all my time, time
‘Cause when you’re standin’ oh so near
I kinda lose my mind, yeah”

Once the entrance to small town of Calabasas was a two-lane road. Before the apartments and The Commons at Calabasas took over. You might even catch a horse or two riding off the road. It had an outback country cowboy feeling to it.

Now when I drive through the heavy traffic I reflect back when I was 18 and how so much happened there after I graduated high school.

Two years in particular were years full, heavy, and sometimes like an eternity of love, dancing growing up and serial killers galore.

As I drive along this two-lane road my eyes often search for the Mind Shaft club. I don’t know exactly where it was now or if it is still there. Was it torn down maybe?

The building that housed this club was unique. The Mind Shaft was located on a second story that housed a great bar, stage, and dance area. Remember those?

A real dance area surrounded by wood beams as though we were dancing in a large square corral.

It was shady, dark, and the music was loud.

It was in a place like this I transformed from a valley girl, into a rock girl which led me down the road into the ‘curse of punk rock.’

My long blond hair transformed into a 1970s shag cut.

My best friend ‘Sue Blue’ and I ‘Holly Who’ were a dance team and met a lot of guys at the Mind Shaft.

Holly Who and Sue Blue, Mind Shaft Fever

One guy in particular was very drunk but very nice. He spent the whole night trying to get me on a date the next day to his best friend’s wedding. He told me he could not go by himself.

I was not very good at back car begging back then.

Finally, I gave in and gave him my number too. He called me the next day and picked me up. About 3 o’clock.

Before this I had no idea what to wear. A nice top and shirt and some high heal pink shoes I had in the back of my closet. It was easy to dress up back then. I had a stylish figure quite nice in fact.

As a rather shy person I think this guy noticed right away I was not socializing as he may have wanted me to do. The outdoor wedding was nice. It was located somewhere in the hills of Calabasas.

Right away I noticed many of the bridesmaids and others were giving me the look.

“Who is she?”

One of this guy’s friends told me nicely during the reception,

“He only brought you here today to make his x girlfriend jealous.”

Who just happened to be one of the bridesmaids.

“Yet I would like to take you out?”

I told him,

“Fuck no. Have you and your friend lose my number!”

I split and hitchhiked home.

I don’t like big gatherings like weddings, bridal showers, baby showers and funerals. Seems so pretentious. I especially don’t like being used to make another girl jealous.

Lycanthropy: My favorite scream from any punk singer… ever…

Celtic Wolf

“We do have myths. Myths nourish the old soul with even older stories. They give us strange images and amazing suggestions; these promote speculations that activate the aging mind.”

~ Hillman, James. The Force of Character: And the Lasting Life

Oh, I grew up with the Werewolf story. My best friend Gigi and I walked down to the local market with our pennies for candy. Then back up the wild hills, what we kids called “the Indian trails,” to watch scary movies on Saturday. Only with a big pillowcase full of candy. We knew this quote by heart,

“Even a man who’s pure at heart and says his prayers at night, will become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the Autumn moon is bright.”

The original quote written by screenwriter Curt Siodmak is “Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.”

Move forward to the early 1980s when I played Charged GBH’s song for the first time. It was such a treat. I became a kid again climbing the “Indian trails” once more.

The wild sage bushes, hills of grass and sun above and the windy blue sky. I was free running and rolling through the wonder of youth. The easiness and thrill of being scared by good old monster films. Walking home at night with the full moon coming up from the Verdugo Mountains Range and hearing owls singing!.

I never saw the band play the song live in the 1980s. They would tease us. But Ross and Jock are very clever and played a new song.

Then a few years back 2007 when they were touring in the United Sates, we went to see them in Ventura California. Not far from my hometown. They must have known we were coming!! As we were walking towards the event from behind the theater I heard a call,

“Hudley, Hudley…”

We saw Ross screaming from a second story room. His English slang-accent endearing to my heart. Looking up we heard him tell us to wait there he had something to tell me.

So, when we were in front of the theater Ross and Colin came out. Colin came up to me and said,

“Hudley, we have a real treat for you. We are going to play the old songs.”

I often got on their cases. Asking them to play Lycanthropy. Even had them write out the lyrics to the song on a napkin. Which I still have. It only took about thirty something years to finally hear GBH’s song Lycanthropy live.

Well that about does it this year with my little story about a band, a song, wolfbane and the first full moon of Autumn.

As ritual goes every first full moon of Autumn, since first hearing the song Lycanthropy, I listen to the song! I dance, howl and enjoy my childhood and youthful rebellion again! I enjoy the song so much! All the good wild feelings are there !

October 9, Hunter’s Moon

The next full moon will be on Saturday morning, Sept. 10, 2022, at 5:59 a.m. EDT.

Yet, the Moon will appear full for about three days from Thursday evening to Sunday morning.

“Aging makes metaphor of biology. The organic changes are a form of poetic speech, rewriting personality into character.”

~ Hillman, James. The Force of Character: And the Lasting Life

Becky Barton

I knew it would happen. It did. I make a stupid declaration about not documenting punk rock anymore. Then a precious face shows up from my youthful rebellion.

Donna Rhia is a original Germs member. A Los Angeles punk band that made their history. She was their first drummer and was foundational support for the forming of the band.

Becky aka Donna Rhia is one of the first women who pulled me into punk rock. A friendly, silly, fun, ruthless gal who walked the original trail of the early Los Angeles punk scene knowing all the original punks. She was an open door and I walked in.

The things we did together were not always about punk rock. There were fun and creative alternative adventures. She was happy to be with me and I learned about being social in a crazy way and a friendship way too.

She invited me to join her at The Renaissance Pleasure Faire in Agoura. We made confetti eggs to sell at a booth, but I enjoyed walking around screaming,

“Cascarones for sale, three for a dollar.”

Dressed up in Renaissance clothing and running around with her seemed so natural and unassuming. As awkward as I was, she never was pretentious or scolding.

I am leading up to one of our best moments at the fair that day. It was not a big giant festival as they are today either. Everything was quaint and magical.

It is one of my favorite stores to tell.

Dyan Diamond and Kim Fowley were walking by us. I did not know them, but Becky did. She was so unassuming with her underground punk knowledge and carried it with her as a special shawl of wonder to me. I was happy to share that shawl too.

“Holly, I dare you to go and smash an egg on Kim’s and then Dylan’s head, then we can hide and watch behind this log.”

I took on the dare. I smashed two eggs on their heads. Colorful confetti was everywhere!

I ran back and there was Becky rolling on the ground, laughing in the leaves where I soon joined her. It is one of those jokers’ moments.

How many more times did I inspire to this type of punk humor? Oh yes, all the time.

Kim and Dyan looked like cartoon characters. Dyan with her tight leopard skin pants and Kim with smoke popping out of his head. Looking around with bulging eyes,

“Who did that, fuckers.”

This is what she taught me as she pulled me in to the world of punk rock. We were both going through changes and met for a fleeting time as she disappeared from the punk scene and where I was pulled deeper in. The curse of punk rock. No matter how I try it will not let me go.

The astounding characters I met. She is one.

On the edge, in the middle and even now from the beginning.

This is a song that we sang, like others, as we raced down the road in her car. Wasn’t it so personal then… well we were sure feeling it. I told her,

“I don’t think I will make it to 21….”

Funny how some friends show up and you find each other again and others just are gone.

KFJC Tape Eleven 12/10/84

A couple weeks ago I joined some speakers, artists, musicians, and authors to share stories about Rock & Roll. Marina Muhlfriendel’s event called OUR LIPS UNSEALED was at Tom Bergin’s Irish Pub on Fairfax Ave in Los Angeles. She told me her father was a regular friend of this Good ole English Pub.

Alex Stein is one who spoke that night. He revealed how seeing bands or going to a music festival is like going to church. I often thought about this. So, what came up was what I originally wrote up for the 1984 KFJC tape eleven. It is ritual for people to gather together around bands, move & dance and socialize.

I can see at such a contrary time in history, through a pandemic and political parties declaring a civil war, how we need to gather around a community of those who follow certain bands or music genres.

Be it jazz, punk rock, pop, or country and beyond. We need it… it is healing for our psyches.

So, I was happy to know another person saw it in the same light as I did.

Funny thing I don’t go to church, nor do I go to big music festivals. I don’t need the experience like I once did. I can just put a song on my browser for free and remember or sometimes find a new band or song. Yet I understand how some people need this big festival experience.

I am happy that promoters and bands are doing so well too.

Man, one can put some good VIP money down at these festivals. It makes me laugh. It just is not my cup of tea.

Maybe I will go to one? Maybe not? I know I will check out a local pub or club now and then. I still do need it… just not like I once did. I guess I am saturated and content with what I got or had… saw so many bands back in the day… like stars in the sky. I was spoiled and lucky to have once had such a bitchin’ scene to be part of.  



Once at the local pub a woman in her twenties looked over at me. She was talking to a friend, and I heard her say,

“I don’t know what the big deal is. That magazine came out over thirty years ago?”

She then looked over at me again. I looked back at her. I raised my shoulders and rolled my eyes as if to say,

“I know what you mean.”

This pub, the Scotland Yard in Canoga Park California is considered a music pub. The founder Patrick Fairley (rip) was in Marmalade a 1960s Scottish pop rock band.

Here a long line of DJs who just happened to play 1980s punk rock.

Punk rock is a unique genre and like jazz we all rejoice in the impressive sound of its originators. Going to the pub is kind of like going to church. The sociology of religion states that 80% of people going to church do so for social reasons. Only 10% go to have a religious experience. A pub is the same way. When you add some great music and beer this is the place to be to do the 80% thing or the 10 % thing.

As the spirituals gave birth to the Blues and then Jazz, so does it inspire the music we listen to today?

I don’t go to church anymore, but I do go to pubs. For me it is a 10% experience.

In the 1700s pubs often held meetings under the convert of drunks but in reality, it was the beginning of revolution.

It was about individuals who came together, who opposed the Church of England and their government. They sang their pub songs or hymns around the fireplace and hidden in these songs were the lyrics and tunes that inspired the people.

Punk rock can be like going to church and it can be an 80% social thing. To me it has always been about the 10% punk rock experience.

It is inspirational, thrilling and has the ability to awakened one to wild possibilities of hope and creativity as any good ‘old jazz song does.

Sharing these tapes is like sharing an old jazz tune or inspirational religious experience. It has its place in the continuity of the punk rock experience of 1984.

This is what I should have told the young woman who liked to come to this pub on punk rock DJ nights. She enjoyed listening to 30-year-old music. The thirty-year-old magazine she referred to did document the 10 % punk rock experience!

This tape is dedicated to all the Los Angeles underground scene women who were the foundation of an early punk rock scene.

SNFU or part of the X-files. so go screw!

Tape 11 Track 1 KFJC
Tape 11 Track 2 KFJC

Germ tails and little baby Jesus pins

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

Electrify Me Lyrics

I let this fire burn inside
‘Cuz the love I lost in the alley
She appeared and she disappeared
Into a cloud of grafitti
She electrify me
Radioactive hair stuck in the sky
A plastic bag, a gun inside
Green cowboy boots and her black straight legs
She electrify me
She electrify me
She electrify me
She danced and pogo’d all night long
She bobbed her head like a toy tin doll
She shook her shoulders around so free
She even danced on the ground with me
On the ground with me
She electrify me
She electrify me

Having a talk on Instagram about the “Mosh pit” or “slam pit.” I remember before this when the punk scene was softer but still very real and rebellious. The dance movement had a sexy push to it that was fun and uniting which moved us with each song.

This song captures that time when “Germ tails and little baby Jesus pins” were still around. Yet as the slam pit took over these things slowly disappeared.

This song captures that time when it was so damn special to be a punk. It is romantic and seductive and there was an unknown equation to what it was becoming. Unclassified too. And how we lost something as the punk scene changed.

A lovely song. It is irresistible and must be danced to.

Have Another Beer While We’re Here.

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

For an old gal who still writes letters and keeps her PO Box open though often quite empty.

Dad served in WWII and was once stationed in Adelaide Australia. I recently talked to a professor from Queens University of Technology (urban coastal city of Brisbane) John Willsteed about Punk Rock for an academic book, and I have a few friends from the country. Recently longtime friends the Talley-Jones’s went on an amazing journey in Australia. Yet for me it is selfishly always about The Saints.

Writing letters has always been my thing. I might have written them unreadable at first, but I often would get intelligent and friendly responses. Either way I keep writing them to companies, authors, and friends. In my twenties working on a fanzine, I did spend a great deal of time reading and typing up letters from fans and adversaries for Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine.

One letter I wrote in the late 1970s was to the band The Saints. I never got a response. It was about their Prehistoric Sounds Album I had a question for them.

I remember writing the letter on an old manual typewriter in my parent’s house looking over at the Verdugo Mountain Range of the San Fernando Valley. White out, finding a stamp and an envelope and walking to the Post Office to mail it is a consistent and blurry memory for me, but a true one.

I’m inspired by the band’s edition of a type of horns background band sound. Or as they say a horns section. An incredibly unique sound for me as a youngster. So, I wrote to the record label at the time. Whatever address was on the inside insert or record label for HARVEST. How silly that was but now I find it a very endearing thing for a fan to do.

I saw on Facebook that Prehistoric Sounds came out September 8, 1978, now is a wonderful time to celebrate this album.

Finding out about the Aints much later I can see a band that includes that sound I was curious about. Specially from one of my favorite songs. A nice continuity and happy way to see the endurance of an album, scene, song, or people. Bringing back all those good feelings too!

It’s still a thrill for me.

At one time I talked to music friends about a mystical journey of going to see Chris Baily sing in a pub in Australia. As the story goes, he would go to pubs and sing his songs. One of my friends who was thinking of going along is a local Los Angeles friend whose name is also Chris Bailey.

What dreams I had. A dream is now over due to Christ Bailey of The Saints recent demise, but I still hold the need to visit Australia someday, regardless.

It is so good to be in touch with Ed Kuepper though this electrical fire and still learn things about music, this place here on the internet. That he makes himself very accessible is sweet. I am only one of many fans who are listening.

This story I share is very comforting in a clever sort of way. I think the three fates Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos are my friends.

People, real people, value others not just their created documents. This is what punk rock is.

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Pic by Hilda 1979

I am happy to see many podcasts, films and documentaries about punk rock coming out these days. Books too. It is overwhelming to me. I am approached by many due to my special experience as a punk rock journalist. Some treat me nicely and others are ruthless to get stuff from me.

Be it writing a fanzine, a book, or releasing a documentary film I have done it all myself. I have published fanzines, books, and records. I just completed two documentaries about Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine.

There is always a line to draw out of kindness.

A few years ago, I was approached by a lady who knew nothing about punk rock but wanted to do a documentary about some punk rock skate women. So, she hired a promotional person to gather information. I agreed to do a Zoom meeting with them.   

I soon saw that they wanted to pick my brain. Then when I asked them questions, they got nervous. I told them that I needed to stop sharing with them.

This promotional woman was being paid good money to gather information about punk rock.

I was just brain picking leads for their needs. I call that being compromised and exploited!

I told them if they are interested in a real narrative with a person with valuable experience, they can hire me as a consultant on the film or documentary.

When they got back to me it was by a short message. They could get the information they wanted through an archive. They did not want to have a lived experienced narrative helper. They wanted cold facts and information. Good for them.

There is a difference between behind the scene work or giving an interview to be used in a film or documentary. There is a line to be drawn there too. Or maybe be a source of information for a book; as for a professor in an academic study.

I’ve been used too much. My work stolen, people coming through a backdoor to get money from my hard work, and I am lied too.

I am done.

I came up with the idea of a Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant for hire. I don’t help unless it is for a fee. Kinda like a private eye for hire.

It is serious business and most people are cheep. Not me, no more buddy!

From my experience one has to be savvy about these things. To the highest degree.

Send me a message and we can talk project, documents and/or consultant fees.

Good feelings coming back on a lazy Saturday in the San Fernando Valley.

Punk Rock Historian and Profession Consultant

Hudley Flipside

Moving slowly out into the world again like a young kid. But instead, I am now an old fool. That suits me just fine.

I feel a vacuum feeling drawing me down watching all the big festivals and bands touring. Been to maybe two shows since the pandemic began. Not eager to go out. Yet today I had to do something new locally. I saw a record store on Devonshire Street and Topanga on Facebook.

In Chatsworth a once sleepy town in the San Fernando Valley.

Yes, the horse stables are gone but finding DEADELY WAX Records did give me that old-fashioned feeling. No parking meters around and inside the place was cool and clean. A variety of records of all kinds from generations and genres.

Youngest son and I walked in and were greeted with a friendly hello.

All those good feelings coming back on a lazy Saturday in the San Fernando Valley.

From Jazz to Punk even saw a B People LP. I was walking through generations of music as flash backs mixed as albums passed my eyes in the viewing stalls.

I settled on two and son on one.

These summertime blues are eased a bit with a free feeling of what it was like in the valley once.

Now today it was just as nice. Easy traffic on the corner of Devonshire Street and Topanga an example of what life was like when head-shops and record stores once ruled everywhere.

Great place to go.

Son can stop by before or after going to CSUN and if I get the need I got a place to visit. Feels good to support a local small business record store.

Bernie Taupin

This is the time for Jose Quavo

Punk Rock Historian and Profession Consultant

Hudley Flipside

The San Fernando Valley was a lot of fun for a short time.

Creating plenty of “amber moments” with Lynn, Sue, and a few others.

Today I had to make a Target run for my 100% organic cotton underwear or “panties” for short. Like it was such a big deal when it was announced in the film, Anatomy of a Murder. Yet it amazes me, and I feel like a pervert when I go into the lady’s underwear section here. It has expanded out with a million types of sexy underwear. I guess women put a lot of time in to thinking about underwear and being sexy regardless of the material. All synthetic and… well yucky. The little section of cotton underwear is small indeed.  

“Sister Rose and Sister Blanche.

 Blanche saying they’re going door to door to collect …lingerie…for needy sexy people”

~ Funny / The Golden Girls

Yet I digress, what really got me writing today is a song that came on the PA system while walking around. ‘Strawberry Letter 23.”

“Strawberry Letter 23” is a 1971 song written and composed by Shuggie Otis from his 1971 album Freedom Flight. It is also widely known by the 1977 cover version recorded by the Brothers Johnson and produced by Quincy Jones.

I knew the song briefly 1977 as a time when the tide came in with a variety of music. New wave, soul, disco, pop, punk, and progressive music. All merging in a kaleidoscope of fun.

Starbaby’s, The Mineshaft and The Red Onion were open for dancing. It was a great time for singing in back alleys with my buddies,

“This is the time for Jose Quavo.”

We all took shots and headed back into the clubhouse “to dance the night away.”

This was one of our favorite songs.