Hope “Dancing in The Streets.”

On Fallbrook and Victory in the San Fernando Valley

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

Life is so contrary and beginning and ending all the time. The stars seem stable, as they dance their astrological dance. The moon and sun and seasons are very dependable but not the storms or the opposite whispers of joy and enlightenment we may find. This earth will always be a contrary place sweetened with continuity and music.

Yesterday before the rain, Sara and oldest son walked over from their apartment. They are counting their steps. Later they left and we decided to join them halfway on their journey home. A longer walk than my usual mile per day.

It was easy all the way until we said goodbye and then we walked slowly onward, and we headed home, husband, youngest son, and I.

Would we get something to eat?

“No, it is past 6 PM and I don’t like eating much after then.”

That is what they get for always asking what MAMA wants.

On the way with Sara and oldest son I noticed a broken book on the ground. The pages danced below our feet for a long while.

I picked up three of the pages as a focused random moment of finding something wandering and enlightening me from the dirty street of trash. On this dark cold evening of winter.

A man was covered with such trash in the middle of the sidewalk next to the shopping mall and restaurants. He was pretending to sleep as cars raced by and we walked around him.

I sadly declared.

“He is going to get mighty wet when the rain hits?”

Husband quickly responded,

“He is most likely waiting for the shopping mall to close down. I am sure he has a safe place there.”

My feet got sore, and my back ached and howled as we headed home.

Now today I read the book pages tossed on the ground like leaves in a storm.

One thing that stood out were the lyrics for a song.

The pages are filled with words about music, slavery, finding a voice and hope. Someone was looking for their roots, history, and family.

I thought about my own family history. I think this is a push to get going with my own pages filled with words about music, slavery, finding a voice and hope. Hope from lyrics. A song inspiring us to dance to the hopeful dream of music.

As the dancing pages on a dark and dirty street.

“This is an invitation across the nation

A chance for folks to meet

There’ll be laughing, singing and music swinging

Dancing in the street.”

Finishing up this year and looking forward to another, more projects in the new year.

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing.

Image from Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Photo by Hudley Flipside

Night at the Whisky A Go Go.

First On The list…

“Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own, instead of someone else’s.”

— Billy Wilder

Look at Amazon in your country and most likely you have direct publishing and / or arrangements that make ordering, printing, and shipping so easy. For a global community it is pretty cool.

46 years ago, Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine first published this little annoying punk rock rag. By a bunch of guys who caused considerable trouble.

It has been an odd mission of mine to keep the light shining on its memory for those out there who want to share in the Flipside Fanzine narrative. I prefer this to the darkness of an archive or virtual nowhere land. Or even the dissection of everything all the Flipside material on the internet and other places.

Four plus six equals ten.

So, 2023 is a number that goes well with 1977. Forty-six years ago, the Los Angeles Punk scene had a creation story that countless authors have written about. Many now want to document that time through different means. Flipside Fanzine documented that original punk scene in real time. The Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Issue # 54 Ten Year Anniversary Issue did document the punk scene. 1977 to 1987.

Turning 65 next year means I am over the hill and on my way, very close, to grandmother’s house. All the social security and Medicare to figure out. As my husband says,

“The government designs it to make you fail, they want you to fail.”

Maybe so but like most things in my life it takes effort to get things done and done right. The end of 2022 I was delighted to complete the Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine Creation story narrative documentary / film. Shinning the light on Larry, Tory, and Tony.

Epeisodion One, Two and Three… thanks Larry, Tory and Tony…

Now on to a new year… 2023

Silver dollars

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

“Mr. Sandman (yes) bring us a dream

Give him a pair of eyes with a “come-hither” gleam

Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci

And lots of wavy hair like Liberace.”

Silver dollars are on my mind. The magic as I view them from my memory or imagination. Mom went to Las Vegas and would play the slot machines with these babies. She would bring home many buckets full to take home to her kids. She kept them in her back bedroom closet for years.

She would pull them out every now and then as we admired the coins. Large hold in my small hands.

After her death oldest brother Greg stole them. I don’t know who has them now. He died a year back, so they are with some unknown person.

I miss mom’s large bedroom with a big window that looked over the Verdugo Mountains. The San Fernando Valley was a deep chasm of hills and homes and the Woodland Hills Golf Course.

Often, she had her radio program on that played music from the 1940s and 1950s as she sewed up dresses or clothes for herself, my sister or myself. A sewing machine on a table that had everything you could imagine for creating fine clothing.

Laying out the patterns, pinning the material and cutting were all something I watched closely.

Then a song would come on and she would start to hum it. I would sometimes dance. This was one of the songs I remember, and the song holds the memory of my mom as we danced around her bedroom.

Mr. Sandman

Sandman” (or “Mister Sandman”) is a popular song written by Pat Ballard and published in 1954. It was first recorded in May of that year by Vaughn Monroe & His Orchestra and later that year by the Chordettes and the Four Aces.

I love watching Perry Mason on TV before I go to bed. It is part of my routine to relax and watch a time before technology, big technology, took over. Phones, telephone booths and stylish clothing are comforting to watch. Yet what I do endure are the commercials in between.

A new one this season is Walgreens commercial. I try not to pay attention, which has a little logo saying, “It is not magic it’s Walgreens,” Here we find all the magic and wonder of the holidays and then the terrible quote. It is kind of negative propaganda as the company is an evangelical organization most likely. The war on magic and our imagination is horrid.

When I see the commercial, I quickly reflect on the song Pure Imagination from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.

“Pure Imagination” is a song from the 1971 film Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. It was written by British composers Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley specifically for the movie. It was sung by Gene Wilder who played the character of Willy Wonka. Bricusse has stated that the song was written over the phone in one day. The song has a spoken introduction.

“Ladies and gentlemen

Boys and girls

The chocolate room

Hold your breath

Make a wish

Count to three

Come with me and you’ll be

In a world of pure imagination

Take a look and you’ll see

Into your imagination.”

Reviewing records For Flipside Fanzine

Punk Rock Historian, Colleague and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

The Ness of Mike

The last day of November “Amber Moments” when Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine could have constructed a vinyl house built of records in Whittier California.

Reviewing records started out simple. Just turning on the funky tape recorder and staff at flipside would just talk. As Larry Lash states in the rather new Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine the Narrative Documentary / Film, Epeisodion ONE.

The reviews recorded were then transcribed and into the issue of Flipside Fanzine they went. No editing. Published galore.

Well, that was the beginning of the record reviews. Each record sent to the Flipside PO Box was to Whittier California. Many bands were all seeking a review. Seeking a promotional push for their world of fanatical punk rock fans. I called the new records fresh from the vinyl bakery. Yet some did come later a little bit stale.

I even reviewed a few records I purchased from Lovell’s Record Store uptown Whittier or from Zed Records in Long Beach.

My personal favorites like the Ramones or Charged GBH. Yet records collected around us pretty nicely. All free. The cats loved to claw them just fine thank you. Oh, the tears of many a collector. As time went on and as the Flipside crew grew and changed, we did things differently. After my fingers almost fell off from typing.

I have callused fingers due to this and should have become a guitar or bass player in a band where I could be playing all these gigantor festivals and traveling the world. But we ended up giving our new shit workers a nice stack of records to review. Some of them even helped with the typing. I thank you from the depth of my fanatical punk rock ole’ heart.

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

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

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 an 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 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.