Black Flag

No band from the nascent Los Angeles punk rock scene of the 1970s and '80s has meant more to subsequent hard-core generations than Black Flag. Few could have expected as much at the time. "I'm totally surprised because we didn't know what we were doing," recalls Keith Morris, the band's founding singer, who quit in 1979 to form his own early hard-core act, the Circle Jerks. "This is who we are, this is what we do: get in the room, turn the amps on and let it blast. " Since the band's breakup in 1986, fans and the curious have had to be content with all the "loudfastrules" recordings left behind, but this summer brings a strange new chapter: two competing versions of the band on tour.

No band from the nascent Los Angeles punk rock scene of the 1970s and '80s has meant more to subsequent hard-core generations than Black Flag. Few could have expected as much at the time. "I'm totally surprised because we didn't know what we were doing," recalls Keith Morris, the band's founding singer, who quit in 1979 to form his own early hard-core act, the Circle Jerks. "This is who we are, this is what we do: get in the room, turn the amps on and let it blast. " Since the band's breakup in 1986, fans and the curious have had to be content with all the "loudfastrules" recordings left behind, but this summer brings a strange new chapter: two competing versions of the band on tour.

Natalie Nichols' piece on Black Flag ("Black Flag, Unfurled," Oct. 6) was helpful to me, at first. As a 48-year-old knucklehead earnestly in search of punk's eternal meaning and important throbs, I was loving every word until I read "time-warped guitar style," "internal cadences." And, this one was especially peculiar: "deliberately avoided creating an image." Huh? Guitar styles have to do with rhythm, technique, guitar-lessons learned -- and passion. Time warps don't pertain unless the guitarist recorded, under the influence of LSD, on Mars.

The early SoCal punk scene wasn't all guitars, mosh pits and visions of chaos — although there was a good dose of that, thanks to bands such as the Germs and Black Flag. Rather, the music was experimental, arty and all over the map. "Everything from hard-core punk, electro-punk and new wave music all fit together; there weren't those genre distinctions," says Adam Hyman, executive director of the Los Angeles Filmforum, who curated "Strange Notes and Nervous Breakdowns: Punk and Media Art, 1974-1981," a program of rarely shown films from the early scene premiering Thursday at 7 p.m. at the Museum of Contemporary Art. The shorts, part of Filmforum's Alternative Projections exploration of experimental film in Los Angeles and MOCA's ongoing show "Under the Big Black Sun: California Art 1974-1981," look back at L.A.'s punk roots with a 100-minute collection of rarely and never-screened performances.

Greg Ginn still moves to his own peculiar rhythm. The guitarist and songwriter says he has no regrets about abruptly disbanding the pioneering Los Angeles punk act Black Flag in 1986 or about his virtual disappearance from the rock scene in the years since. "I never got into music to be a professional musician," says Ginn, speaking by phone from outside Seattle during his first long, national tour since the Black Flag days.

"We weren't a band that came out and played a lot of our old songs," reflects Black Flag founder/guitarist Greg Ginn in the wake of the local outfit's recent announcement to call it quits after 10 years on the hardcore punk scene. "Obviously, we could've been a lot more popular if we'd done that. But that's not what Black Flag was about, which was constant musical and ideological development."

The $25-million Crown Plaza office building at 631 S. Olive St. has been topped out and all went well--there's a fir tree on top and no black flag is flying. According to the developer, English & Continental Property Group, the traditional topping-out ceremony goes back into antiquity, with the ridgepole or highest structural member adorned with a green tree for luck.

For a year, Black Flag has been touring steadily, playing its distinctive, raw music in cities all across America--except, that is, for its hometown of Los Angeles. "We've been touring to the point where I think people around the country really know us," says the band's guitarist, Greg Ginn. "But we're a little behind in L.A. I think this town has missed out on a few phases of Black Flag." When the group plays the Stardust Ballroom tonight, in fact, it'll be its first L.A.

The Black Flag "First Four Years" weekend at the Hollywood Palladium started with a bang -- Friday's sold-out opening night -- but ended underwhelmingly at the second and final show Saturday, with a half-full venue and mostly forgettable music.

Erstwhile hardcore punk thrashers Black Flag have sort of turned into the thinking person's heavy-metal band--thinking mainly, mind you, about anger, and sin, and guilt, and definitely not redemption. No, Flag's self-serious subject matter hasn't changed much, but the pace has slowed down and sludged out somewhat, with much of the quartet's recent material sounding like a cross between early Black Sabbath and some especially unpleasant form of jazz.

Punk rock dads open up In the documentary "The Other F Word" the word implied in the title is fatherhood; the film takes a look at the seemingly contradictory transition into middle age for men who are in a working rock band and also trying to settle into a stable family life. The most boldfaced name in the movie is likely Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers (interviewed alongside his daughter), but the main character who emerges is Jim Lindberg, longtime singer with the band Pennywise who also published his own book called "Punk Rock Dad. " He gives the greatest insight into the struggles of being a present, active parent and husband while making a living brashly rocking out, juggling tour dates with father-daughter dances.

In a rehearsal room in North Hollywood are some of the battle scars Rage Against the Machine has accumulated during many years of conflict and noise. In one corner are the scorched, graffiti-covered amplifiers that bassist Tim Commerford has plugged into for nearly 20 years. At Woodstock 1999, he had the big cabinets draped with a U.S. flag, which he then soaked with lighter fluid between songs, until the final encore of "Killing in the Name. " Thousands of fans were already bouncing and shouting along to the angry, defiant chorus ("I won't do what you tell me!"

The way Keith Morris holds a microphone is not designed for comfort. He grabs it with one or both hands, elbows locked at rigid angles, and lunges with each syllable as he shouts with epic fury. The eyes bulge, his knees buckle. At 55, the delivery of this punk-rock originator has only intensified with age. In a small rehearsal room on the outskirts of Eagle Rock, Morris is pacing the floor impatiently, much as he did as the founding singer for Black Flag, then for three decades with the Circle Jerks, and now in a new band with an abrupt name — Off!

STAGE Henry Rollins '50' The heavily tattooed poet, essayist, radio personality and former lead singer for the legendary punk band Black Flag reached the half century mark Sunday, but he's stretching the celebration out nearly a full week for his L.A. fans. Expect an evening of thought-provoking and amusing talk about life, rock 'n' roll and other scintillating subjects. Largo , 366 N. La Cienega Blvd., Los Angeles. Nightly at 8 p.m. through Sunday. $25. (310)

Mike Skinner started ninth Saturday and won the Copart 200 in a Camping World Trucks Series race at Gateway International Raceway in Madison, Ill., that was marred by late crashes. A week ago, Skinner won the first trucks race at the Iowa Speedway, dominating the field from the pole for his second victory of the year and 27th overall. With less than 10 laps to go, Todd Bodine spun through the infield after he tried to block Matt Crafton . With just four laps to go, Crafton sent race leader Ron Hornaday , who is also the points leader, spinning out after the two bumped on the first turn.

IN 1978, the Cramps, the sublimely spooky punk act, treated the patients of Napa State Mental Hospital to a free afternoon show. Joe Rees, the founder of Target Video, recorded it with only available light on a reel-to-reel. Bootleg copies circulated for years; it was released on DVD in 2004. "It was incredible," Rees says from his Reno home, where he releases DVDs from the archives. "The Cramps were at the height of their powers. You couldn't tell the patients from the band. . . . Many of the patients danced right next to the band, mimicking their movements perfectly."

IN 1978, the Cramps, the sublimely spooky punk act, treated the patients of Napa State Mental Hospital to a free afternoon show. Joe Rees, the founder of Target Video, recorded it with only available light on a reel-to-reel. Bootleg copies circulated for years; it was released on DVD in 2004. "It was incredible," Rees says from his Reno home, where he releases DVDs from the archives. "The Cramps were at the height of their powers. You couldn't tell the patients from the band. . . . Many of the patients danced right next to the band, mimicking their movements perfectly."

Since the 1986 breakup of Black Flag, founding member Henry Rollins has taken the smorgasbord approach to life: publishing books, telling stories, releasing spoken-word recordings and tending to his music. "I'm always eating, but I'm switching plates," Rollins said this week from his home in the Silver Lake district of Los Angeles. Rollins, who was lead singer for Black Flag, the L.A. punk pioneers, will perform tonight at Cal State Fullerton's University Center Pub. Rollins' spoken performances started as more-or-less formal readings when he first appeared in 1983 at the Lhasa Club in Los Angeles.

The history of the teenage studio wizard is much shorter than that of the teenage pop star. Bobby Fuller built an echo chamber in his backyard while recording early versions of "I Fought the Law," and Prince raised label eyebrows when he demanded to helm nearly all the instruments on his first solo records. DJ Kool Herc was barely in his teens when he began throwing the block parties whose soundtracks became the drawing board for what would become hip-hop.

Ienjoyed Richard Cromelin's story on the reformed Meat Puppets ["Living to Play Again," June 10]. I've always loved them. Following their recent past saddened me. It's wonderful that Cris [Kirkwood] has come out of his trials and reunited with Curt [Kirkwood]. I wish I'd made it to their Troubadour show. Maybe they'll connect with the Devendra Banhart, Comets on Fire audience that's happening now. CHUCK DUKOWSKI Venice Chuck Dukowski is the founding bass player for Black Flag.