The Wrong Side of Reno: Punk Rock on Display

The Nevada Museum of Art is hosting The Wrong Side of Reno: Three Decades of Punk and Hardcore Music in the Biggest Little City.

That means 7 Seconds, people.  Probably one of the biggest punk bands to come from Reno.  That along would be reason to check this out, but for art fans you have to know that the art for punk releases is a genre onto itself.  It is, quite simply, the most exciting art in the entire music industry (metal following a close second).  Sometimes offensive, sometimes political, sometimes just artistically based on someone's whim, the art made the records stand out.  And now the lucky people of Reno and all points nearby get to see this exhibit, which runs from 10/2/10 to 3/6/11.  Hell, I may even want to get over that way for this one.

Dead Milkmen Motherfuckers

My introduction to punk music itself (I was familiar with the names of the bands and the general ideas of it) came when a girl lent me cassettes of the Dead Kennedy's Frankenchrist and the Dead Milkmen's Eat Your Paisley.  I loved the politics of the Dead Kennedys and also got into the nonsense of the Dead Milkmen.  Years after "discovering" that band, my friend Eric and I found out they were playing some podunk club in New Jersey.  (Aren't all clubs in New Jersey podunk?  Well, with the exception of Obsessions, which was just bad.)


Eric and I traveled quite a few hours to get there, excited to be seeing Surgeon General (which we also liked) and the Milkmen.  The show didn't disappoint.  The Dead Milkmen, however, were total dicks.


Since Eric and I got there before the club opened, we were hanging around outside looking like drug dealers.  Basically we fit in with the rest of the neighborhood.  The Dead Milkmen showed up and had their men start unloading equipment.  Their men, however, weren't the typical roadie types, and nor were they band members (which is typical for many punk bands).  No, this was something different.


Two scrawny black men in their fifties were unloading the amps and guitars from a van.  Eric and I found it odd, so I asked one of the Milkmen if we could help.  (I have since forgotten what Milkman it was that I asked.)  It looked like these old men were kind of struggling, so Eric and I wanted to be helpful.


"We don't need any fucking help," was the gruff answer we got from the guy.  The two AARP members had no say in the matter.  


Granted, there is nothing that says the Dead Milkmen have to be friendly to a couple of strange looking guys offering to help unload their expensive equipment.  We could've made off down the street with a mic and traded it for a few rocks or something.
 
I don't hate the Milkmen like I hate the Presidents of the United States, but I don't think I'll ever forget the rudeness of this band that really has no place being rude.  I mean, sure the band was humorous and has a fan following, but it's no Bon Jovi or something.  Quite frankly, I never thought the band was well-respected by many music fans, and I imagine the members felt the same way.  Acting like a prick surely didn't help thing.