Rock 'n' Roll in Orange County

by Chris Epting

  And Dan Jacobs offered:

  I think it’s clear that we have some unfinished business. When we went on hiatus four years ago, we didn’t know if we would be back. When you’re in a band as long as we had been, it’s interesting because we started [as] teenagers. You go through those years together living in Never Neverland, and you never really grow up. We just got to a point where we wanted to see what we are made of outside of being in a band. We wanted to establish ourselves be individuals and now we can go back a little bit older and wiser and get back to business.

  In January 2001, a former punk rock legend died in Orange County. Bryan Gregory, a founding member of and guitarist for the Cramps drove himself to the emergency room at Anaheim Memorial Medical Center in the middle of the night after feeling exhausted and ill. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, he suffered a multiple-systems failure at the hospital and passed away there. While he was not from Orange County, Gregory’s former band, the Cramps, had played in the county numerous times.

  Around the same time that Avenged Sevenfold and Atreyu started performing, a small club in a dingy little strip mall in Anaheim also opened its doors. This is how the OC Weekly describes Chain Reaction:

  Remember when you were 17 and all you wanted to do was to be able to see your favorite band that never played any all-ages venue? EVER? Well the Chain Reaction solves all that. This is like the introductory venue for every band that passes through Orange County—everyone’s played the Chain at some point in their careers. It’s a small, slightly dingy venue located in a sketchy Anaheim shopping center surrounded by car dealerships. The floors are sticky, the stage is small, dusty T-shirts of bands that have played the venue grace the walls and any space that’s free is covered in bumper stickers. But since when was rock and roll ever clean? This place is a no-fuss, straight to the point venue where covers are cheap and indie bands are frequent. Everyone wins.

  Since opening, Chain Reaction has become one of the most vital punk venues in the country. The intimate space and all-ages policy allows for typically intense shows on many nights, and the place remains a throwback to other glory days clubs like the Cuckoo’s Nest and Safari Sam’s.

  Many big local bands, such as Avenged Sevenfold and Atreyu, played there on the way up, but many other bands did as well, including My Chemical Romance and Coheed and Cambria, among others. It’s a no-frills and nothing-fancy environment with lots of band T-shirts tacked up on the walls. Chain Reaction has proven itself to be one of the most consistently dependable venues for punk, pop punk and other related musical subgenres. I’ve spoken to many bands that played over the years, and without fail, they all talk about the place in glowing and legendary terms. Tons of kids grew up listening to bootleg tapes from this small club and eventually went off and formed their own bands.

  In 1998, adjacent to the parking lot at Anaheim Stadium, a Hollywood-themed restaurant named Tinseltown Studios opened up. That concept failed, however, and the building was renamed the Sun Theater in 1999 when concerts began being held in the 1,700-seat venue. In 2001, it was renamed the Grove and, since then, has become a popular place for big-name artists looking for an intimate venue. Everyone from Bob Dylan to B.B. King to Ice Cube has performed there over the years, and in a sense, the Grove fills a void once occupied by the Anaheim Convention Center Arena (which still exists but rarely hosts concerts any more).

  And the new high-profile venues did not stop there. In 2001, a House of Blues opened at Downtown Disney and today continues to attract a wide variety of performers.

  Also in the 2000s, the Rolling Stones returned to Anaheim Stadium in both 2002 and 2005. U2 also returned to Anaheim to play the stadium in 2011. And Irvine Meadows Amphitheater, now rechristened the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater, remains just as busy as ever.

  In 2006, at the former site of a small Fullerton café known as the Hub, the Slidebar Rock ’n Roll Kitchen opened. What’s most impressive about this place, next to the fact that it regularly has good local bands playing, is how it embraces the history of Orange County music. Of course, one reason might be its location: the parking lot is exactly where Leo Fender created the Stratocaster, the Telecaster and many other iconic guitars.

  From tiny and vital clubs, such as Chain Reaction, all the way through to a venue like Angel Stadium, Orange County in the 2000s featured just about as broad a variety of musical venues as any other county in the United States.

  Tragedy struck on Halloween night 2012 in Huntington Beach when Mitch Lucker, lead singer of the band Suicide Silence, was killed after crashing his motorcycle into a lamppost not far from where he lived with his wife and young daughter. At a vigil the next night at the crash site, Lucker’s wife, Jolie, said to a crowd of grief-stricken fans, “He was an alcoholic, and it’s been a big battle. I tried to stop him. I was in front of him begging him not to leave the house. Begging him. ‘Just seriously, for us, don’t leave.’ And he did. And this is what happened…He was an amazing man. He was a wonderful father and a great husband. And now he’s gonna miss out on watching Kenadee grow, because he decided to drink and ride.”

  This makeshift memorial is at the site where Mitch Lucker, lead singer of Suicide Silence, was killed in Huntington Beach in 2012. Author’s collection.

  In 2011, video footage emerged that claimed to be the very first ever Rage Against the Machine concert. Shot with a shaky hand-held camera, the footage captured the band playing a college show at Cal State Northridge outside Los Angeles. But as band member Tom Morello commented when he saw the footage:

  I have seen a bit of [the] clip, and I have a full recollection of that show. It was actually the first time we played in front of a public audience; we had done one show previously, but that was a living room party. So that filmed footage still qualifies as our first ‘proper’ show. I remember when we started playing there was no one in the audience, it was just people walking back and forward on the way to lunch at Cal State Northridge. After an hour-long performance, we won over a couple of headbangers, which was a victory for us at that point in our careers!

  As a band bio notes:

  Rage Against the Machine (also Rage and RATM) is an American rock band, noted for their blend of hip hop, heavy metal, punk and funk as well as their revolutionary politics and lyrics. During their initial nine-year run, they became one of the most popular and influential political bands in contemporary music.

  In 1991, guitarist Tom Morello left his old band, Lock Up, looking to start another band. Morello was in a club in L.A. where Zack de la Rocha was free-style rapping. Morello was impressed by de la Rocha’s lyric books, and asked him to be the vocalist in a band. Morello called and drafted drummer Brad Wilk, who had previously auditioned for Lock Up, while de la Rocha convinced his childhood friend Tim Commerford to join as bassist.

  Shortly after forming, they gave their first public performance in Orange County, California, where a friend of Commerford’s was holding a house party.

  That’s right, the living room party show Morello mentions also took place somewhere in Orange County. Many have tried to track the exact location, but to date, the efforts have come up short.

  It certainly makes one wonder about what don’t we know about the music history of Orange County. There will always be rumors about supposed sightings and sessions that may or may not have taken place here. But no matter what, enough has happened here that certainly makes Orange County a musical mecca. It’s not possible to cover the complete musical history of the county in one simple book. There are many books that could easily be written just about the punk scene in Orange County. From Social Distortion to T.S.O.L. to the Vandals and on and on, it is almost unfathomable the amount of compelling musical rebellion this county has produced.

  For more than sixty-five years now, rock ’n’ roll has been being made in Orange County. In a small house in Santa Ana, the Rillera family started a band that connected with many people, fans and musicians alike, and acted as a catalyst for much of what happen throughout the c
ounty in the 1950s. It all started in a garage in that house, and although the home is long gone, the effects of the music those brothers made in there is still felt.

  All of the late ’70s punk bands throughout Orange County are connected to that family home. The spirit of strapping on a guitar and letting the world know you are here may seem like a simple thing today, but it was revolutionary back then. This was before Elvis and the Beatles and Chuck Berry.

  For all the clichés about Orange County being sleepy and suburban and nothing more than a hotbed of conservative politics, the music tells a much different story. In beach towns and in the suburbs alike, there exists a sense of freedom and opportunity that has clearly inspired many musicians in the area.

  Kids growing up in Orange County from the 1960s on never suffered for lack of being able to see live music. I can’t tell you how many musicians I’ve interviewed in my career as a journalist who talk about sneaking into the Golden Bear or hopping fences at the old Irvine Meadows Amphitheater to catch a show for free. It was a much different county when Led Zeppelin first visited here in 1969, and I wonder if Jimmy Page and Robert Plant had any memory of those early shows in Anaheim and UC Irvine when they came back to Irvine to play together at Irvine Meadows many years later.

  Many bands that I have interviewed over the years that played the Anaheim Convention Center Arena and other venues back in the ’60s and ’70s have mentioned the fact that playing in Orange County was typically a more loose and more fun experience than performing up in Los Angeles. You didn’t have the press breathing down your neck, there tended to be fewer industry people and the crowds were not as jaded. These were just fans who were thrilled to see you, and they let you know it when you came out.

  Arguably the most vital musical element to have ever existed in Orange County was the punk rock movement of the late ’70s and early ’80s. It seemed so unexpected to many that a place as placid and laid-back could produce such anger and raw honesty. And that’s why it matters so much. Because the music of bands like Social Distortion and the Vandals changed how people thought about Orange County. They proved once and for all that it didn’t matter where you came from—if you were pissed off and energized and motivated and wanted to start a band that could change the world, you could do it. In fact the lethargy and clichés that kids were fighting back against in Orange County probably helped drive a lot of the intensity. Artists can be born anywhere, and if the place where they exist inspires them to want to shake things up, well, that’s probably when you start getting bands like T.S.O.L.

  Music has changed since the 1960s. Radio no longer plays much of a force in making music popular. Records and CDs are museum artifacts. But it doesn’t matter. On any given night of the week, if a club like Chain Reaction can be packed with a couple hundred sweaty, moshing, crazed fans who are living in the moment, singing every word to every song, then the system is working. Because that’s all it will ever be about. Live music played by real bands for fans who care. Thankfully, it seems Orange County will always have places like that, which means the bands will always come here.

  But even bigger than that, the success of bands such as Avenged Sevenfold and Korn remind the up-and-coming musician that no matter how much the business changes, you’ve always got a shot.

  CONCLUDING THOUGHTS FROM BARRY RILLERA

  Barry Rillera, whose story is detailed elsewhere in this book, was for three decades associated with the Righteous Brothers as lead guitarist, bandleader and tour manager. An Orange County music legend, he also toured with Ray Charles and White Trash.

  Orange County has always produced good musicians. At least, that’s been my experience. My brothers and I were starting out back in Santa Ana in the early 1950s; we had no clue where our lives would take us. We had been raised around music and we were always interested in hearing good music, which is why I think we ended up playing the music that we did. Our ears were always open. The radio was so important to us back then, and if you walked around our neighborhood in Santa Ana, a lot of times you would hear songs come out of cars and people’s windows. We didn’t have a lot back then as far as money or anything like that. But we had our instruments[, and] we had a lot of dreams. I think the most important thing we did was to keep an open mind and try [to] absorb as much music as we could no matter where it came from.

  We were always up for hearing new little lyrics and learning new cords [sic] and things. I remember thinking on that first Beatles tour, when George Harrison was asking me about certain chords I was playing and how [I was] doing it, that I hadn’t really done anything special except listen, learn and trample my own spin on things. That was never a big deal to me. I was just focused on trying to be as good a guitar player as I could be.

  Traveling with the Righteous Brothers and playing with the Beatles, playing with Ray Charles and so many other great musicians were experiences I’ll never forget. But a lot of it really comes down to our upbringing in Orange County and just how our neighborhood was the perfect place to grow up wanting to be a musician. We were surrounded by lots of good people, and while I think Orange County [is] still a great place, back then it was really something special. There were lots of neighborhoods and growing up in Santa Ana was a far more urban experience [than growing up in] many other places in the county. We weren’t near the beach or open fields. But being in a city I think help[ed] us hear more music and learn more music, and that really came in handy.

  I started out playing in Orange County, and here I am still playing in Orange County, which I am very happy about. People still come up to me and remember the old days, and as much as I like to remember stories, it’s fun to hear other people’s stories, too. The music in Orange County [affected] a lot of people and still does. I’m still trying to learn new things on the guitar and come up with interesting ways to play. That never really gets out of your system, I don’t think, no matter how old you get. Back then, I did it in Santa Ana, and today, I do it in Huntington Beach and other places. But I’m still doing it. I’m still an Orange County musician, and I’ll always be very proud of that.

  Epilogue

  TEN ROCK ’N’ ROLL RESTING PLACES IN ORANGE COUNTY

  KEVIN DUBROW

  Pacific View Memorial Park, Corona Del Mar

  He was the wild-eyed screamer from the very first number-one heavy metal band in the world, Quiet Riot. Born in Hollywood on October 29, 1955, Kevin DuBrow started out in the industry not as a singer but rather as a photographer. But once he met guitarist Randy Rhoads, things changed and changed fast. Competing with Van Halen throughout the Los Angeles club scene, his band Quiet Riot’s knack for creating simple and effective metal anthems was established right up front. Once Randy Rhoads left to join Ozzy Osbourne in 1979, though, it changed the future of the band. For one thing, the name of the band simply became “DuBrow.” Eventually though, they would reclaim the original band name and recruit Carlos Cavazos, bassist Rudy Sarzo and drummer Frankie Benali to form the most famous version of the band. Crafting a sound that relied as much on pop hooks as it did heavy metal riffs, the band released the album Metal Health in 1983, and by the end of the year, it had claimed the number-one spot on the charts. No metal band had never done that before, and it quickly ushered in a new age for commercial metal bands. All of a sudden, metal was hot. Dubrow’s cocaine use and his big mouth equally got the band in trouble, and within several years, despite a popular follow-up to Metal Health called Condition Critical, the band found itself in meltdown mode.

  But by the early 1990s, Dubrow’s band mates had patched things up and gotten back to work. Throughout the ’90s, they would tour and record in various incarnations, slowly but surely reclaiming the massive metal audience they left behind in the 1980s. Could there have been bands like Ratt, Cinderella and Poison without Quiet Riot? It’s not likely. Tragically, on November 26, 2007, the news was released that Kevin DuBrow had died a week earlier in Las Vegas from an accidental cocaine overdose. Several years later, drummer Frankie Bena
li crafted a new version of the band, which to date continues touring and recording. However, there is not one show were Banali does not come out front and talk about his musical brother and band mate Kevin DuBrow, whose legacy as a microphone twirling madman and hyper energetic performer no doubt influenced many who came after him.

  Quiet Riot was one of the first metal bands to gain massive popularity on MTV, and much of its success was the result of the crazily enthusiastic yet always fun and engaging personality of the lead singer. He may have burned many bridges over the years by badmouthing other bands and pounding his chest, but the legacy he left is an important one, and again, he was in part responsible for smashing down the doors that allowed so many other metal bands to find fame and fortune.

  EDDIE COCHRAN

  Forest Lawn Memorial Park, Cypress

  He died at just twenty-one years old yet still managed to leave a mark as a true rock ’n’ roll pioneer. Born in Minnesota, Eddie Cochran was raised in Oklahoma before moving to California with his family when he started his musical career in 1954. Cochran was one of rock’s first guitar heroes. Before Pete Townsend, Jimmy Page or even Jimi Hendrix, there was Eddie Cochran.

  His songs brilliantly identified teenage angst and sexual desire as suitable song subjects, and as result, he connected with a huge audience. “Summertime Blues,” “20 Flight Rock,” “Something Else,” “C’mon Everybody”—these were the songs of a generation. He sounded tough, and he dressed flashy on stage, truly epitomizing the role of a 1950s rebel rocker. He originally got his break when a movie producer had him appear in the film The Girl Can’t Help It, which also featured his version of “20 Flight Rock.” That same year, he signed with Liberty Records, and the rest is history.