Not the most enjoyable read but I suppose the tedium of touring is reflected in Henry's diary which includes the the never ending physical abuse. Military tropes. And there's a fair amount of crabbiness including complaints about Mike Watt. I was touched by how he was able to become friends with Nick Cave (and Diamanda Galas) by simply writing fan letters. I was very pleased that in the postscript, he apologies for dissing Kira. Kira! ( )

Really enjoyed this book. I don't think bands do this kind of touring anymore. A good read, though I recommend spreading the read out over a couple of months, as the journal entries can feel a bit repetitious. ( )

existential masterpiece ( )

Not going to do a star rating for this one. I got 20% in and remembered how much hated this historical moment. I despised the rooms full of white boys grabbing women by their hair and breasts and genitals (including me on several occasions, this is not second-hand info.), I hated watching them beating each other into unconsciousness. I hated hearing their racist and homophobic shit at EVERY show (many would not have considered themselves racist, but I saw a lot of people with "Nazi Punks Fuck Off" t-shirts stay mute when vile things were said about people of color.) Mostly I hated the agreement to pretend that anger was a reasonable substitute for talent. There are bands I love that came out of the hardcore scene, Husker Du, Flipper, Minutemen, Bad Brains, Fugazi (though they are of a slightly different scene), but most of it was crap. I never liked Black Flag and I still don't, though I saw 3 shows (only because I had friends in bands that opened) and will say the energy, though foul and testosterone soaked, was intense and I understood what people got from being in that room. And also, Rollins is interesting and knows how to string words together. So when I saw the eBook on Hoopla I checked this out. His woe is me, I am an oppressed white guy, the world is against me and my buds garbage grates even more now than it did 30 years ago. I have news for Henry, there are innocent people victimized by police every day in this country, and you and your other thrash pals are not those people. (He tells a story about his trusty roadie laughing when he saw a swastika spray-painted on the hood of an old man's car. The man shook his fist or something, and the roadie said, something like "oh he probably thinks I am a skinhead." Really, a tattooed guy with a shaved head who thinks swastikas are funny? Guess what dude, you are a skinhead!) People petitioned to get you kicked out of their neighborhoods, cops rousted you, and people kicked you out of stores because you were violent thieving miscreants, not because they didn't like thrash. Your pal Ian MacKaye and his wife Amy lived down the street from me in Arlington in the 90's. He was lovely, kept his house looking nice and free from hazards, and though he was recording Fugazi tracks there, sometimes audibly (at reasonable times) I certainly never heard of anyone trying to get him evicted. It’s not the music, it is that you and your friends often deserved it. The amount of theft I saw committed in the name of thrash is staggering, and then you can throw in the property damage and the assault I also witnessed and that equals someone you don't want in your neighborhood. I am not saying this chronicle of a scene is without value, or that Rollins does not capture the moment very well. He does. It’s just not something I want to relive.

more like Get in Henry's Head

This book was not what I was expecting. I was expecting a tour journal that recounted the places, people and shows from Rollins' years in Black Flag. It instead is a really, really dark look in the mind of someone forever changed by the spotlight. It's clear that he was already an antisocial figure, but being the singer for Black Flag certainly took him to further violent, destructive and vicious spaces. It was all very bleak.