U-Haul the Music

While I grew up in Waltham, Massachusetts, my musical heart was in Newport, RI and the fantastic scene there. It was where I discovered punk rock via an old record player in a third story bedroom. My mom grew up there and we were lucky enough to spend many summers and school vacations there hanging out with the families of my mom's two sisters, Pat and Nancy, who lived on Aquidneck Island, in Newport and Portsmouth, respectively. During my time away at college, my parents moved to Newport full time and have lived there since. The city by the sea continues to be a great place for music to this day.

My cousin Johnny D, who was hip-deep in the Newport music scene, and I were close and went to many shows together. I cover some of our escapades in my Johnny Thunders piece but many of our adventures entailed going from Newport to Rhode Island's shrine for independent music, The Living Room in Providence, for shows with many of our favorite punk rock acts like Black Flag, Husker Du, and all the Boston bands from the This is Boston Not LA era.

In Waltham, where I had a handful of friends who enjoyed punk rock with me, some of whom are detailed in my TDK Tapes and American Town stories, we did not have any punk rock bands. In Newport, by contrast, nearly every kid surfed, rode a skateboard and had something to do with punk rock by either playing in a band or attending the shows. Johnny D sang in a band called Positive Outlook and allowed me to help craft some of their lyrics as the behind-the-scenes extra hand. John's other friends played in Newport's two biggest bands, Verbal Assault and Vicious Circle, and these bands would often open for national headliners.

Regardless of which of the three Newport bands were playing, members from all three and other friends and fans would all meet up at places like Jones's house on Bateman Avenue to pack the equipment into a U-Haul. But there was more to it than that. There would be music blasting and beer flowing and it became a party, which then became a party on wheels. On some trips, there would be the equipment of two bands and as many kids as could fit in the back of the U-Haul for the 45-minute drive to Providence. While it was pitch black in the back, we'd fire up a few flashlights and a boombox with music from the headlining band and enjoy some ice cold beers.

Once the U-Haul pulled into The Living Room parking lot, we'd spill out and continue the party. The Providence police were pretty much hands-off back then and the Living Room parking lot became a punk rock tailgate party. Bands would have their vans open and talk to the fans. And then once you were inside, the adage "as long as you were tall enough to stand at the bar, they would serve you," was indeed true. At 16 and 17 years of age, they'd serve us like we were in our 20s with no pesky mention of ID. Add a relaxed readmission policy and you could come and go as you pleased.

The shows at The Living Room were pure magic. The sound was great and the stage was absolutely perfect for diving into the crowd. One show, the Rhode Island bands opened up, some of whom were in the U-Haul with me and Johnny D, and then Black Flag took the stage. My War had just been released and the sound was fantastic. The slam dancing was epic and the perfect square bar adjacent to the pit was serving Bud drafts to us like a punk rock keg party. It was a fantastic time to be alive. The U-Haul trips figure as prominently into my memories as the shows themselves. Both were the stuff of legend and happened during a time when having fun took center stage.

After the shows, we'd help the bands from Newport bring the equipment back to the U-Haul and load it in. We'd often hang around the parking lot for a while and talk to other kids who had just exited the show and trade war stories from the slam dancing pit. The music would be cranked up and the beer again flowed. Then after people had cleared out, we'd join the equipment in the back of U-Haul for the ride back to Newport during which we'd talk about the bands we had just seen play. Once home, we'd unload the equipment and dream about the next time we could all do it again.

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