GIG 0005 - Black Flag / Black Flag Roadcrew / Vicious Circle

My soon-to-be step-brother Chris Vandal (same age, same questionable life choices) and I travelled from Denbigh to the legendary Dixieland Showbar on Colwyn Bay Pier to see The Exploited. Punk pilgrimage complete. Or so we thought.

We arrived to be greeted by two bouncers and the crushing news that singer Wattie Buchan had sprained his ankle playing in the snow, so the band wouldn’t be appearing. But good news — we got a free poster. Because nothing heals teenage disappointment like a rectangle of paper.

Since Denbigh had approximately zero punk gigs, we decided we were staying anyway and would extract maximum value from the evening.

First up: Vicious Circle. My main memory is their singer wearing leather trousers and me throwing a full pint of water at them. In my defence, the Punk Rulebook clearly stated you had to throw liquids at bands. It was practically etiquette.

Next came a hastily assembled band made up of Black Flag’s road crew, including Minor Threat’s Ian MacKaye on bass. This was our accidental introduction to American hardcore, which was roughly 200% more aggressive than Colwyn Bay was emotionally prepared for.

Naturally, we responded with violence. Enter Black Flag and from the safety of the back of the pit, we began throwing coins and badges. Chris then removed his Sid Vicious padlock and chain necklace and launched it toward the stage like a medieval siege weapon. Had Henry Rollins not ducked mid-lyric, we might have accidentally assassinated him.

During the chaos, someone’s bullet belt exploded across the floor, gifting the crowd a handy pile of ammunition. An older punk with enormous blond spikes actively encouraged us to keep firing. One bullet eventually hit guitarist Greg Ginn on the head. He stopped mid-song, put down his guitar, picked up a folding chair and launched it into the crowd before storming off. The rest of the band followed. Honestly, fair enough.

Rollins returned to the stage looking even angrier than usual, holding the offending bullet and yelling:
“One of you fuckers threw this and spoiled it for everyone, good fucking night.”
Mic drop. Exit. End of Welsh debut.

After the gig, we mingled innocently with the band and crew and asked, “What happened?” A roadie shrugged and said some kids got over-excited. If only he knew.

Years later, Rollins immortalised the incident in his book Get in the Van and retold it on his spoken-word tours.

Some people get thanked in album liner notes. We nearly got thanked in a police report.