Henry Rollins

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 show more 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. show less

To see the august Henry Rollins holding court on his cable television show, you might say to yourself, “Gee, that guy seems like he has it all together. He seems like a really swell individual.” Maybe. For his sake, I hope Rollins has found some peace and understanding in middle age. I know from experience that the years do bring a certain acceptance of the shortcomings of our fellow human beings and the way that life works.

Of course, historically it has not been Rollins’s job to be a show more paragon of human compassion. I have long enjoyed his giving voice to the frustration of growing up and living through the late 20th century and all its false, hypocritical bullshit. But, Jesus Christ, Henry—if you haven’t done it already—get some help. Life really is a richer experience if you don’t tackle it alone.

As anyone who has a passing interest in Rollins’s written work knows, there are basically two separate men you will encounter: the angry musical one, and the really angry—angry one. At the risk of getting my ass kicked should I ever run into him, I find Henry’s output in the latter category to be too personal, and dare I say, infantile to enjoy.

While I respect the bravery of publishing the deepest, darkest thoughts of your tortured youth, I find it as uncomfortable as reading my own decades-old teenage journals. Thank goodness for the ’02 flood that turned everything in our basement to mud-colored papier-mâché.

Then again, I’m not Henry Rollins.

I found this collection of examples from his early output (mid-’80s–early’90s) to be evenly split along these same lines. I really enjoyed the excerpts from his tour journals and his later prose, and I’ll definitely make a point of seeking out the full books at some point. Rollins became a better writer the more he did it and some of the stuff from the early ’90s, while not as visceral (or maybe because of that fact), is very well done. show less

I wasn't disappointed in the photographs which were arresting, but I was disappointed, confused and sometimes annoyed by the random rants that accompanied each of them. I often wasn't sure what Rollins (the author) was talking about, referencing or if maybe he was speaking in someone else's voice. I ended-up, after reading the first dozen or so little rants, just skimming the rest of them. What I did find interesting though was the descriptions at the end of the book detailing who was in the show more photos, what was going on and the significance.

An interesting concept, but it seemed to end-up being more about the author than the subjects of his photographs. show less

A collection of writings. There is micro-fiction, poetry, some very short non-fiction and single sentence thoughts. The book was self-published in 1987 and features a drawing by composer/Devo founder Mark Mothersbaugh on the cover. Mike gave me this autographed copy for Christmas because I'm a Rollins fan. If his name is unfamiliar to you, he is the former singer of legendary punk band Black Flag. Rollins is now an actor, spoken word performer, stand-up and writer whose columns appear in show more Rolling Stone Australia.
I didn't love this book for one reason: it's unrelenting misery. Seething anger, loneliness, isolation, violence, every page is another vignette that begins and ends badly. Rollins is a favorite, he's an amazingly creative and intelligent guy, but there's a reason why you don't see a lot of 25 year-olds with book contracts. At 55, he's still an angry guy, but now it's controlled and focused rather than spewed out at everyone like I found here. show less