“I have the flu, but I promise I won’t vomit on any of you, here in the front,” muttered frontman Keith Morris about two-thirds through the band’s lightning-fast set of legendary punk/thrash last night at the . Besides being a rock solid reminder of the early-to-mid ‘80s punk scene at venues like the Rainbow Music Hall, Morris’ proclamation brought back visions of cheap beer, slamming pits and steel-toed boots whizzing forward — attached to airborne divers descending onto us from whatever sufficed as a stage. The statement, and the seminal band’s set, also caused a quick percolation of memories of store-bought moonshine; their power with the youth never left.
The images were fitting and became even more relevant as the show progressed Thursday night. Morris, looking essentially unchanged from his ‘80s frame (despite the pattern baldness from which his long dreadlocks tried to draw attention), led a foursome full of punk rock stars through a solid, 30-or-so song set that lasted a little over an hour in front of a sold out crowd. And it seemed to make no difference that much of that audience was born years after the Jerks’ prime.
Regardless of the impetus, this band of punk rock troubadours had no trouble entertaining a sold out crowd. Morris, one of SoCal punk rock’s godfathers (an original members of Black Flag before forming Circle Jerks), led guitarist Greg Hetson (also of Bad Religion), drummer Kevin Fitzgerald and bassist (and cult movie hero, i.e. “Repo Man”) Zander Schloss through a set of punk rock classics that easily brought to mind early ‘80s warehouse shows, no-more-than-gas-money tours and teenage angst laced with sardonic humor.
They tore through “Question Authority,” “Letter Bomb,” “In Your Eyes” and “Stars and Stripes” under six minutes, and then went for more. Morris never passed up a chance to bring down audience members, and at times seemed to be focusing on one in particular that apparently wanted absolutely no banter from those on stage. Morris responded with various insults involving the audience members need for a ride home in his mom’s mini van. In line with his longstanding, neo-hippie persona, Morris also constantly reminded the crowd of our membership in the “gang called the Human Race.”
By the time the band left the stage, they’d poured through a set of more than 30 songs. And most of the audience sang along to nearly every word. Morris, despite his age (apparent only from his own occasional lamenting), was as energetic as he was back in the day for all of it, save one minute-long rest towards the end. Altitude, he explained later, was the culprit,
“No wonder,” he said, “I feel light-headed. We’re in Denver, where all of you are already high!” Always quick with the wit, that guy.
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Billy Thieme is a Denver-based writer, an old-school punk and a huge follower of Denver’s vibrant local music scene. Follow Billy’s explorations at , and his giglist at .
