Gin is Brutal

And WELCOME to New / New-ish Readers

Hello new readers, whether follower or subscriber, free or paid. I am certainly pleased and surprised at the surge in this reader activity.

After this intro, there’s a story about The Jam

It’s great to see you here. I don’t know how you found me, but I am glad you did.

If you signed up as a subscriber, the “welcome” email or screen may have told you that this platform is my worksheet for my forthcoming memoir, ADVENTURES OF AN UNCHAPERONED TEENAGED GIRL. Stories from the book are part of my 2026-2027 worldwide traveling photo exhibition as well. It’s called REtroSPECT: 50 Years of Photos. That would be punk photos. Can you believe punk is 50?

That’s me on my 20th birthday in the parking lot of the Starwood, a nightclub in West Hollywood with two music rooms and a disco floor. The Jam played there on my birthday (April 14), and at the pre-show press party, presented me with 20 different shot glasses - all gin drinks. I wasn’t made to finish them all, but they encouraged me to taste each one and after the third shot, I just dipped a finger in each glass and tasted that. Gin is brutal!¹

The Starwood was owned by a renown ne’er do well named Eddie Nash, who was allegedly involved in the brutal Wonderland Murders which influenced the storyline of Paul Thomas Anderson’s film, Boogie Nights. Those murders remain unsolved.

I grew up in and around Los Angeles, and I am proud that LA’s greatest contribution to culture is NOIR FICTION. During the early punk rock days, our scene was swept up in the reality of the serial killer, the Hillside Strangler, which was actually a pair of cousins. The writer, Joe Pompeo, who publishes here on Substack wrote about it last year. A real life serial killer was a whole different story from the best noir authors, but I have to say, we as a group held our own against the fear these brutal crimes cast on Los Angeles as a whole.

These topics already pepper my publication here, so I hope when you are scrolling around, you dip into the archives.

The other day, I wrote about The Dickies, who played at The Starwood on my 20th birthday, opening for The Jam. Today, I’ll tell you about hanging out with The Jam that day.

That’s Anna Statman’s back, my camera bag, Jam drummer, Rick Buckler, and Pleasant Gehman. We were interviewing him for our fanzine Lobotomy. The band stayed at the Riot House, which was the nickname of the Continental Hyatt House, located on Sunset Blvd. in West Hollywood, forming one anchor of The Sunset Strip

The PR guy at Polygram, Len Epand KNEW that responding positively to fanzines wanting to cover bands like The Jam made his job easy². Even in 1978, The Year That Changed Everything, what seems obvious now was a hard sell. So, we got time with drummer Rick Buckler. EVERYONE wanted to interview Paul Weller. He wrote the songs, he sang them. But he’s just one man. We were happy to have time to talk with Rick. We did the most absurd interview. I think one of his responses was, “Is the correct answer ‘what flavor is your mum?’” which was perfectly suited to our MAD Magazine / Creem sensibility.

Polygram’s Len Epand joking around with Jam drummer Rick Buckler

We were able to eavesdrop on calls Rick made. I just liked getting candid photos

Polygram probably thought it was quite clever that they hired two red double decker London busses to take the journalist corps from The Starwood (in West Hollywood) all the way to Santa Monica to enjoy fish and chips and games of darts with The Jam. This PR event was an all-day affair as a result. Even back in 1978, the 10-mile drive in midday Los Angeles traffic took a long time, and a group of journalists plus the band had make a 20-mile round trip and then be back in time for the show.

The early soundcheck, Weller and Foxton, illuminated only by work lights.

After mid-day interviews, we set out for The Starwood to watch the band do an early soundcheck and then give us all a photo opportunity with the busses.

Bruce Foxton, Paul Weller, and Rick Buckler. Paul remembers this as a “daft PR stunt,” and has been saying it print since 1978.

The band struck every possible pose.

Rick Buckler wearing a Trouser Press t-shirt! That’s John Weller, Paul’s dad - the band’s manager - behind him. Starwood parking lot just before posing for the bus photos.

Bruce Foxton playing darts

Because it was my birthday, and I turned 20 (six weeks before Paul Weller turned 20) and was THRILLED to no longer have a “teen” in my age, we told everyone that it was my birthday. Everyone I ran into all day long wished me a happy birthday; The Jam sang “Happy Birthday” to me at the pub! I don’t know who amongst the band or their camp set them up, but suddenly 20 shots appeared on the bar and I was told I had to taste them all. Not drink them all, but taste from them all. It was a variety of gins - the preferred liquor of England. I did a couple shots, I dipped my finger in many of them to taste, I asked for soda and then orange juice. This was no easy feat. Honestly, I am STILL impressed that my photos are in focus.

Once we returned to The Starwood I headed up with the Lobotomy crew to were had a table in the VIP balcony. Tom Petty’s table was next to ours. I bent down to grab something out of my camera bag and the pattern on his snakeskin boots looked so alive, I thought there was a real snake on the floor and I panicked and it was so crowded, you couldn’t really just get up… gin hallucinations?

I called 1978 The Year That Changed Everything for good reason.

I was looking for this photograph of The Jam I shot from the VIP balcony, seated next to Tom Petty, getting all freaked out by the snakes on his feet… and I remember having posted it on Instagram and at this moment it felt easier to scroll through my feed than to keep searching through the 26 hard drives I have. In that doom scroll, which goes back many years before Meta bought it and turned it into an advertising hellsite, I found conversations between people I know in real life about attending whatever concert photo I posted, and there was a conversation in a post of current day Los Lobos that honestly moved me - about Los Angeles, about the music community, and the melting pot triumvirate of punk, Latinx and noir which is what Los Angeles IS. But I did find for you the photo of The Jam that I was able to snap even though Tom Petty’s feet freaked me out.

There is confetti AND glitter on the stage, the detritus of The Dickies’ set

There was no sharp divide between punks and other rockers (unless you were a Nazi punk, then you could kindly fuck off). This was an era when good music was good music. Sure there was bad music - “corporate rock” - and we didn’t like it and neither did anyone else - not even the people making money on it. Players who would later fill stadiums and become household names stood shoulder to shoulder to you in the mosh pit, on the dance floor, and at the bar.