Fried Green was a band from
Henderson, NV. Henderson seemed
like it was a million miles away from my world back then but the last two
decades have seen the behemoth of sin city swallered up every last patch of
dirt from Mount Charleston all the way to Boulder City joining it all together
as one big blast furnace of asphalt and interconnected pavement. Eventually you won’t be able to see
desert anymore within the valley as strip malls and housing complexes fill in
the rest of the empty spaces.
Which is bullshit or progress depending on who you ask. From what I understand it’s been
spilling outside of the valley for the last few years as well. But in the late 80’s Henderson was
pretty far away. Nick’s Supper
Club was the main attraction for the area if KVVU TV5 could be trusted.
I met Shiloh the lead singer of
Fried Green through a funny set of circumstances. It stems from a D.I. show I went to at the Elks Lodge in
downtown Vegas by Cashman Field. I
think 5150 opened up for D.I.?
Anyway I had a jean jacket back then which I bleached and dyed bright
red. And my hair, which I had a
bunch of back then, was permanently unkempt. No style at all just totally mussed up like I just got done
having sex. When in fact I rarely
got to have sex as much as I’d wanted.
I
always enjoyed watching the crowd at a punk show. To this day I’m
still surprised how few people turn around to scan the crowd. In my experience it’s usually the case
where the bands suck so the only real entertainment is the crowd. The bands certainly didn’t suck that
night but I still found myself unplugging from passive observer mode as I
turned around near the front of the stage to survey the “scene” who were all
super well dressed punk rockers for 1988 or whenever it was. Then I saw her.
God knows what her name was. She was the most adorable punk chick
I’d ever seen up to that point. I
wanna say her name was Michelle but that’s a plain Jane name for such a duded
up punk seductress. It doesn’t fit
the mythology I’ve built up in my memories of that moment but her name is lost
to time. She smiled briefly and
looked away only to lock eyes with me again. She smiled again and continued to hold my gaze. I motioned for her to go near the open
door at the side of the stage. She
nodded and met me just outside the door facing Owens Avenue.
It
was a tender moment I had nearly forgotten about over all this
time. I was sweaty from the
stifling heat and the night air was nice and cool as we leaned against the wall
still within earshot of “Hang Ten In East Berlin.” We flirted with each other briefly. Exchanged numbers. Made a promise to meet again. To varying degrees I’ve seen it happen
several times in my life. A
feeling like it could be love. And
then something unexpected stepped in to make it fly away into my own fantasy
world.
She
was from Henderson so while we never met again in person we talked on the phone
at length two or three times. In
between calls I learned that she was seeing this guy Shiloh also from Hendo. I heard through the always unreliable
grapevine that they had been a couple for a while and that he was the jealous
overprotective type which lead me to build up in my mind that we were serious
rivals for her affection.
I
tried reaching her again by phone but my calls were never returned. I heard later that she rolled her truck
and was seriously injured. I never
saw or heard from her again. But I
held on to the idea that Shiloh was now gunning for me.
After
the scene collapsed following the break up of F.S.P., 5150, and Atomic Gods
there was a vacuum created wherein the last remaining hangers on from the old
guard and the random new faces that started going to shows were looking for a
new focus, a new band, a new… fucking anything. In this silence Henderson rose to prominence in terms of
accessible all ages shows. Don’t
get me wrong, the desert gigs were still happening. But the onslaught of the racist nazi skinhead subculture
within our subculture made desert shows more violent. Less and less people were willing to go out in the middle of
nowhere when you could potentially get the shit kicked out of you. Vegas, always the city that refuses to
acknowledge the existence of underage people made it even harder to produce a
viable all ages venue and so one of the only alternatives sprouted in
Henderson. The Henderson Elks
Lodge strangely enough.
I
saw a bunch of shows there during this time frame. Many of them unmemorable. Even though we all desperately wanted to believe. I could run down a list of shows that
happened there but there just wasn’t much to the music at that time. And the lack of unity within the scene
itself made for a lackluster experience time and again. But it was something and so we returned
to that venue time and again. More
new faces flooded the scene. And
eventually the scales tipped as they have with each new generation.
I
don’t remember who I went to see play on this particular night but somehow I
talked my parents into giving me a ride all the way to the Henderson Elks
Lodge. Me and the folks were often
at odds during that rebellious part of my life and so it came as a bit of a
surprise that they would agree to get me out there. It was especially funny because I somehow snuck a full six
pack of beer in my jacket as I sat next to my mom in the tiny mini truck we
drove 25 miles from Linn Lane to Henderson.
I
wanted to get there super early so I could chill in the desert outside of the
Lodge and catch a buzz before the show.
Plus if I got there early I wouldn’t have to share my beers with anyone
like the selfish bastard I was. It
was precious cargo for an 18 year old kid, and I’m not remembering how I got a
hold of it now but I’ll assume I fished for beer outside of a seven-eleven
eventually getting some adult to buy it for me.
So
there I was at like 7pm broad daylight trying to choke down a six pack of
Shaefer beer when this dude walks up and asks me if I’m going to the show. Back then it was unexpected to find people
who were clued in and excited about the underground. Punk was still puke to the masses so if you chanced upon
someone with a Rudimentary Peni symbol hand stenciled on their jacket you were
stoked to meet another misfit castaway adrift in the “straight world” and bonds
were immediately formed. We talked
and I eventually offered up one of my shitty beers. It was only after we had cracked a brew that we exchanged
names and I found out this guy was my supposed nemesis. Shiloh.
Obviously
there was no animosity. He told me
he wasn’t even dating her and he shared with me the unfortunate news of her
accident. From there we became
fast friends. The show that night
I can’t clearly remember and something tells me it wasn’t because I was drunk
off that piss beer. But I do
remember hearing Shiloh talk up the band he was trying to form. It would be months before this band
would play out, but I was inspired to know someone just like me could start a
band and I was eager to offer up my support.
When
I look back it sometimes surprises me how many shows I missed. I talk a lot of shit like I was clued
in and present for this and that but there were so many things that appeared to
be happening and so many cliques I wasn’t privy to that I missed more shows
than I would have liked. And Fried
Green was numbered among those shows.
I was there for their debut but I know they played at least a few dozen more
times for which I wasn’t present.
I must have been trippin balls on the East Side playing R-Type at the
Nellis arcade. Broke as
usual.
Much
thanks goes out to Rockin Chris Crud for sharing these tracks of Fried Green
broadcasting from 91.5 KUNV on the Lunch With the PMRC Locals Only show. Over the years I’ve been friends and
acquaintances with several of the dudes who were in Fried Green and over time
they have all gone on to different bands or different projects. Listening to these guys on this
broadcast is endearing and speaks volumes to the death of the old scene and the
birth of something new. A change
that’s happening even now as we march on towards irrelevancy.
This
ain’t hardcore punk by any stretch of the imagination and they even admit that
while being interviewed on the radio.
I’m not sure what you’d call it but it is still a representation of the
Vegas underground as it existed in that transitional time. It speaks more to the pop side
musically and in some ways prefigures what would later be called grunge in a
few years. That is if grunge was
baked and dehydrated in the 110 degree heat drinking St. Ides in a ditch just
off Boulder Highway.
Another
gem of a time capsule from a much simpler time from a small town out in the
desert South West. It sure seemed
more complicated at the time. Shit
if we only knew? Henderson…of
course.
Download Fried Green presenting their new demo live on 91.5 KUNV below.
I got no date for the broadcast. If you think you know the date tell me and I'll add it here.
