On Our Way to a Punk Rock Show: SOCIAL DISTORTION, DESCENDENTS, and THE CHATS in Las Vegas

2 days ago

7 min read

I was on my way to a punk rock show in Las Vegas, which sounds like the start of a song somebody else has already written. The Cosmopolitan had other ideas about the route. I went up to the third floor looking for The Chelsea room, found out my photo access was waiting at the box office on the second floor, walked back down, then headed right back up.

When I finally reached the pit, the staff and I got to chat about the crowd. There were little kids, people in their seventies, and every age in between, while some of the staff, around my age, were every bit as excited to see SOCIAL DISTORTION as the fans. Here we were, a few floors up, inside one of the most polished buildings in Sin City, waiting for three punk bands to come through. Mike Ness would later reminisce about Vegas shows in backyards and warehouses, with two-dollar admission and all the beer you could drink. The room had changed. But looking around at all those generations together, I wasn't so sure the family had.

I'm 50, and that sight sent me back to Ridgecrest, California, in the early '90s. My dad was in the military, we'd just moved, and I didn't have many friends. I was already deep into metal and the Misfits, but Tommy was the friend who opened punk up for me. He handed me Bad Religion and Minor Threat, and we skated to Green Day's 39/Smooth and Kerplunk! We played SOCIAL DISTORTION's self-titled record and Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell over and over again; before long, I was following that trail to Rancid and beyond! Tommy and I haven't seen each other in years, but he's still my brother in punk rock. Those records didn't just give me something to listen to. They helped shape what I believed, what I questioned, and who I became. Looking at the kids and adults together at The Chelsea, I wondered who their Tommy was; the person who first put this music in their hands.

THE CHATS kicked things off with the kind of energy that makes you look up even if you're trying to check a camera setting. The Australian trio came out without ceremony and got straight to it; Eamon Sandwith bouncing around with his bass, Josh Hardy tearing at his guitar, and Matt Boggis driving the rush from the drums. Sandwith and Hardy trading vocals kept the songs moving, and under the purple lights Hardy looked wonderfully wild-eyed in the photos I was making. They were funny, loud, and constantly in motion. I knew enough of the songs to settle into the rhythm; "Panic Attack" and "6L GTR" were highlights, "Smoko" was a blast, and "Temperature" still doesn't sound to me like Sandwith is singing the word temperature. Maybe I need an Australian translator. Whatever he was saying, I was grinning.

Watching THE CHATS reminded me of being young and hearing those early punk records for the first time. They don't sound like the bands Tommy introduced me to, and that's exactly the point; it was the feeling that came back. Raw distortion, a sense of humor, and enough fuck-off attitude to make you listen to what was underneath the joke. They played like people who had somewhere else to be and wanted to tear this place up before they left. By the end of their set, I could see why a kid discovering punk now might grab onto them the way I grabbed onto my first records.

Then came DESCENDENTS. I've loved this band for so long that I could have spent their whole set thinking about the years attached to those songs. They gave me no time for that. Their mix of speed, melody, and smart-ass humor had helped shape what a lot of us came to love about punk, and they tore into it like they still had something to prove. Milo Aukerman would toss out a goofy introduction or a pointed remark, and suddenly the next song was already racing by. Stephen Egerton changed guitars when he needed to; Karl Alvarez held down the bass, Bill Stevenson drove the drums, and the four of them kept going. The bright lights put them right in front of us with nowhere to hide, and they didn't need anywhere. Their short titles fit the pace: "Everything Sux," "I Don't Want to Grow Up," "Clean Sheets," "My Dad Sucks." I was singing those with the same lungs I brought to shows decades ago, though "I Don't Want to Grow Up" lands a little differently at 50. "Without Love" was another reminder that DESCENDENTS can slip something tender into the middle of the racket and have it stick. These are musicians who've been doing this a long time, and their speed and energy made me feel lucky to be getting older alongside them.

Aukerman made a few brief comments about the state of the country and the administration, but the band didn't stop for a speech; the opinion came out, the next song hit, and the crowd took it from there. That's a familiar rhythm at a punk show. I enjoyed "'Merican" for its humor and its bite, but the biggest moment from where I stood was "I'm the One." The room sang that one back so loudly it nearly swallowed the stage. After roughly two dozen songs and hardly a pause, DESCENDENTS closed with "Smile," and we got one more room-wide sing-along that came damn close! THE CHATS had given us the rush of discovering something; DESCENDENTS brought songs people had been carrying for years. Both sets made me think of Tommy. By the time the stage was being readied, for SOCIAL DISTORTION, I could feel my teenage self, getting impatient.

I'd seen SOCIAL D live, but I'd never photographed them. When I first met Jo Anna (Scary Monsters) and she told me about her punk rock background while offering me the chance to shoot shows, I told her SOCIAL DISTORTION and Rancid were on my bucket list. If either came through Vegas, I asked her to let me know. SOCIAL DISTORTION did, and so did she! Jo Anna kept following up with PR, hoping to get me into that photo pit. I am eternally grateful to her for it. So, when the lights changed, the video panels moved behind the band, and a tiger stared out from the kick drum, this was more than another assignment. Red beams crossed the room. Ness came into view in white trousers, tattooed arms, and that worn, gold Les Paul. I raised my camera. Tommy had helped get the music into my life. Jo Anna had helped get me this close to the people making it. For a second, the kid from Ridgecrest and the photographer in Las Vegas felt like the same person!

They opened with "Born to Kill," and I couldn't have picked a better start. I love that song and the new record it comes from; after such a long wait for a SOCIAL DISTORTION album, hearing new material stand alongside the old favorites felt damn good. Then they rolled into "Ring of Fire," and the room knew exactly what to do. "Mommy's Little Monster" and "Prison Bound" took me back to the records I grew up with, while "The Way Things Were," "Tonight," "No Way Out," and "Partners in Crime" showed how naturally the newer songs fit into the set. Through it all, Ness played and sang with that voice you can recognize before you recognize the song. He told us it was bothering him and asked us to help sing in the spots where he needed us, and we were more than willing! The following day, SOCIAL DISTORTION canceled its Reno show at the Grand Sierra, stating Ness’ vocal cords remained under significant strain after the Salt Lake City and Las Vegas shows, resulting in a doctor ordering two days of vocal rest. Reading that announcement, I felt grateful we'd shared the Vegas show with him, and hoped he would get the rest he needed.

Ness gave us pieces of his history between songs, too. He talked about his love for Las Vegas and remembered the warehouse and backyard days; saying “now”, he joked, “you can barely get a night started in this town without $150 and maybe a buzz.” Around "Lude Boy," he spoke plainly about his former drug use. He doesn't use drugs now or encourage it, but he wasn't about to pretend he hadn't lived those years or enjoyed parts of them. The crowd appreciated the honesty. Those stories made sense among songs that have always been drawn from more than one place: punk, rockabilly, country, blues, and everything Ness has lived through. It's part of why SOCIAL DISTORTION could play a room like The Chelsea without making me forget the smaller rooms that made this music matter.

Before "Story of My Life," Ness recalled writing as the music around him was changing in the late '80s and wondering whether fans would follow him toward the country, bluegrass, and rockabilly sounds finding their way into the band. Listening, I thought about how unlikely it would have seemed to the kid skating around Ridgecrest that he'd be standing here decades later with a camera, surrounded by people singing the same songs. I thought about Tommy, who put those records in my hands, and Jo Anna, who helped put a photo pass in mine. Then "Reach for the Sky" arrived, one of my all-time Social D favorites, and "Don't Drag Me Down" sent the night out on a final burst of defiance. I came in from a Vegas elevator detour and left with a story that stretched back more than thirty years. THE CHATS, DESCENDENTS, and SOCIAL DISTORTION gave three generations of punk a place to meet; I got to see it through a lens and sing along. Fuck yeah, SOCIAL DISTORTION!