3.4.14 - Repo Man

On March 4th I watched Repo Man. 

If it wasn't for Repo Man, I probably wouldn't be a somewhat-failed radio personality, currently getting by with little hope of ever accomplishing anything real in my chosen profession. It’s true! And sadly, I didn't even realize it until just now.

I was sitting here thinking of a creative way to say that Repo Man, specifically the soundtrack, has had a deep and profound effect on my life. An effect that still resonates throughout my musical palate. That this 1984 collection of L.A. punk and hardcore bestowed on me a musical temperament designed for discovery. It created in me a fertile valley, rich with patience and enough understanding to find the “hook” in the deepest darkest dankest recesses of the recording industry. Repo Man ripped the God damn curtain down, used it to clean all the puke on the floor and then hung it back up… stained, ripped and threadbare. I never listened to music the same way again.

So, I’m trying to eloquently say all that shit, when it hits me! I wasted my fucking life because of this stupid movie! What’s that bullshit saying about choosing a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life? I did that because of the music in this movie, kind of, and boy did that blow up in my fucking face! I’m pretty sure I would have discovered this alternate music out there eventually, but Repo Man took an unexplored world, wrapped it up in a bow and dropped it right into a tape deck near me!

Enough about me, for a second.

Let me try and talk about Repo Man as a whole. To me this is a very special oddball movie featuring a compilation of songs that changed my life and I always drift into the music and away from the film.

Harry Dean Stanton, NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Basically, what you got here is a movie about the trials and tribulations of being a repo man. That alone should have been enough to fuel a gritty story with action, drama and comedy to make a compelling movie. Harry Dean Stanton’s Bud could have carried this flick to become a genuine darling of American cinema and not just the Cult Classic it’s considered. Bud is the epitome of the broken American anti-hero. Here he is at the end of the road, saddled with the kid that reminds him of himself and still dreaming of his big payday. Everyone wants to root for this guy, warts and all!

But the main plot of this movie, kind of acts as the sub plot as Repo Man initially takes us on a ride-along with the fun loving repo men of The Helping Hand Acceptance Corporation. Emilio Estevez’s Otto, a young bored pseudo Punk Rocker, acts as our conduit into this underworld. Otto’s education of repossession from a wonderfully fucked up bunch of co-workers, some of whom are named after beer, is truly all this movie needs to work. “An ordinary person spends his life avoiding tense situations,” Bud explains to Otto. “A repo man spends his life getting into tense situations.” But, there’s a whole cast of cartoonish characters out there chasing Mr. Lobotomy in the Chevy Malibu, with the aliens in the trunk, all heading straight towards Otto.

I don’t want to sound like I was always against this movie’s weirdness, I’m just realizing now how much darker and more serious it could have been without it. Don’t get me wrong, the fact that people-melting alien corpses are being chauffeured around a gritty version of L.A. where everything is literally generic, except for 7-Up, certainly appealed to a tweeb like me. 

This film is time sensitive. The universe created within Repo Man formed a bubble, encapsulating my young mind inside and freezing everything happening outside. Getting caught in something like that is rare and when it happens it’s something you can feel. It’s real. It felt special to like a movie like this and hear others dismiss it. Their contempt fueled my passion. (Ironic now, because I’m usually fueling others passion with my contempt. The cycle of life, right?) To show Repo Man to someone that hasn't seen it now, wouldn't create the same mood and feeling it did in the 80’s. You just had to be there. Which might be why I’m trying to pick it apart and make it better for my adult mind? As I kid, I loved the wacky tension of the whole affair, now I’m seeing through that to the real story of the weathered Repo Men fuckups. I’d love to know more about them. Like, why is Plettschner always crocheting?

Plus, I’d love to know everything about Tracy Walter’s Miller! For some reason, this scene really spoke to me.

Talk about random! Why the fuck did he say “plate of shrimp!” WHY?! Later, when rival repo men the Rodriquez brothers are getting a soda there’s a sign for a plate of shrimp?! That blew my mind!

I often wonder if Martin Sheen went to the premier of this movie and afterwards turned to his son and said, “What the fuck was that? I was in ‘Apocalypse Now’ you little shit! This is what you’re doing? I know Francis Ford Fucking Coppola!”

OK, let’s rap about the music. The Punk songs are used so quickly, if you blink you might not hear them. (That doesn't make any sense.) The first 10 minutes of this movie burns through “Coup D’Etat,” “Institutionalized,” and “TV Party” rather casually and organically as if to say, “This is the crap these douches listen to while they’re doing their bullshit.” Their bullshit consisting of; slam dancing, trying to get laid in a vacant bedroom at a high school house party and drinking alone… and it all works so well! 

I also love The Circle Jerks performance cameo as a lounge band and Otto muttering, “I can’t believe I used to like these guys.”

The songs on this soundtrack set me on a path. I was now devoted to music and as the years passed this path became longer, more complex and woven into my life. Ultimately, it led me to working on the radio. For a long time it made all the sense in the world. I figured it out! I wasn't working a day in my life! I was making a living shooting the shit about music and I thought, “This will never end!” It ended 

But, this is hardly a “woe is me” story, because I have a solid job right now. (I have to say right now, because in radio it could all end tomorrow for one of a whole shit load of reasons and not one of them having to do with my performance. I've never been fired from a radio job because of my performance. At my very first radio job I was fired because “the consultant thinks we should make a change." I've been fired four times from seven stations in 18 years and I always think, "I wonder how I'm gonna get fired from this one.") 

I still love talking on the radio more than anything and having a couple hundred thousand people here my stupid voice. I just don’t get to yammer on about what I’m passionate about, currently. Just the other day I talked about Kesha getting out of rehab and taking the $ sign out of her name. I’d love for every once in a while to be able to talk about cool stuff, like my favorite Queens Of The Stone Age B-side and have it fit perfectly with what’s going on, on the station. (It’s their cover of “Never Say Never.”)

Because I was feeling a little stifled I started a blog. Last year I wrote close to a hundred thousand words about music and if I’m lucky, maybe ten or twenty people read some of those posts.

Fuck you, Repo Man! I could have learned a trade, or became a nurse or something!

I curse the day this soundtrack changed my life! I couldn't tell you the date, but it was sometime around the spring of 1985 and I remember it like it was yesterday.

My friend Tiger Balduf’s parents were out of town and I was sleeping over. Tiger stole a couple beers from his dad and the Repo Man soundtrack on cassette from his brother, Chris. We huddled around a boombox on the kitchen table, sipped our green cans of Genesee Cream Ale and soaked it in. Only talking to repeat lines and tell each other to “rewind it!”

A dramatization of Chris Balduf's cassette collection.

Suicidal Tendencies “Institutionalized” was the instant stand out here. It poured out of those shitty speakers like a gospel from the Church of the new truth! It made me want to testify! “I woke up this morning to a disturbing sound! I said, I WOKE UP THIS MORNING TO A DISTURBING SOUND! It was the jingle jangle of a thousand lost cans of Pepsi! Jesus Christ, bring me just one Pepsi! Amen!”

Tiger and I also had a very intellectual conversation about The Circle Jerks “Coup D’Etat.” He had just learned about coups in school and we marveled at the intelligence of The Circle Jerks in tackling such a weighty subject matter. Then we discussed all the shows listed in Blag Flag’s “TV Party,” and debated whether or not the song was being ironic, or if they really loved watching TV. We must have had a couple of brews and listened to the soundtrack a handful of times when the evening shifted gears.

Tiger was a year older than me, a pretty boy, and attracted poon just by breathing. So, we weren't too shocked when two drunk girls from his grade showed up at the back door. They had pounded a couple 2 liter bottles of Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers, God knows where and with who, and decided to make a social call. For the life of me, I can’t remember their names. But, just to give them some kind of designation I’ll go with two of the most popular girl names at the time, Heather and Kelly.

Heather and Kelly probably looked like two of these girls, and Bartles & Jaymes didn't look like those two guys. (Notice the can of Bud Dry? Good times.)

Heather and Kelly blew into the kitchen like a passing summer storm, their thunder dwarfed the sounds of the Repo Man soundtrack and they filled the room with a downpour of non sequiturs. 

“Kevin Moler is a jerkoff!” “What are you guys doing?” “Were you in school today?” “Did that guy on the radio just say Pablo Picasso is an asshole?” “There wasn't any school today! It’s Saturday!” “What are you guys doing?” “Do you have any more beer?” “Oh no! Kelly are you going to throw up?” “No… yes.”

When I was a kid, there was nothing cooler to me than a couple of drunk teenage girls. “They really were mature,” I thought.

By the time we knew for sure that Kelly was about to puke, Tiger had her about 10 steps from the bathroom when Bartles and Jaymes decided they needed to leave her stomach by any means necessary. Kelly went from cool and sophisticated to a limp pile of annoying in about three seconds. She spends the next hour in the bathroom.

Heather was in no condition to help out and after lobbing a few “are you OK’s?” from the hallway, she retired to Tiger’s bedroom. I reluctantly grabbed a roll of paper towels and went to work on the puke while I watched the floor show going on in the bathroom. Why is it fun to watch other people puke? I got some of the vomit cleaned up when Tiger asked me about Heather’s whereabouts. I was more than happy to get up and check on her.

Heather was sitting on the floor trying to turn on the ColecoVision to play Gorf. Remember Gorf? Remember ColecoVision? She looked up and slightly grunted, which I took for “can you make this work?” After she got killed instantly ten times in a row, she handed me the controller and told me to play.

This girl was fucked up when she walked in the door, but you could almost hear her belly full of B&J getting her drunker. She berated me with dumb questions about the game, while she slowly slid closer to me. Eventually her hand made it to my shoulder and then she began gently caressing my back.

“What’s up with your friend?” she asked.

“Tiger? He’s making sure Kelly doesn't flush herself down the toilet.”

“Not you silly,” she squealed with a hair flip. “Your weird friend with the glasses.”

I wore glasses but I wouldn't say I was weird! 

I knew two things; 1.) This girl liked Tiger and 2.) Tiger had his hands full in the head! So, fueled by the rebellion and anarchy I had just heard in the Repo Man soundtrack, I threw the controller on the floor and turned to Heather. This was probably the second or third time my tongue was in a girl’s mouth and I’m sure it was horrible, but in my mind that kiss was glorious! She tasted like artificial peach flavoring and menthol cigarettes. I was attentive, smooth and filled with passion – The Make Out Master! 

I know her eyes were closed the whole time, because mine were wide open and I was counting the seconds until this was going to go south. She slowly opened her eyes and even more slowly realized she wasn't kissing Tiger. I believe she actually shuddered. It was like someone had run into the room and threw a thousand glasses of ice water right in her face.

I wish I had a picture of the look that washed over her when she opened her eyes and realized she wasn't kissing Tiger! It could have become a Reddit meme for the benefits of sobriety.

I was happy to have grounded to first, but was a little offended that she was so disgusted! 

Tiger and I end up switching places. He had to talk Heather off the ledge, which I think he did by making out with her, and I was now on Puke Patrol. I followed the trail of repurposed gum and wine cooler down the hall and into the bathroom to find Kelly lying face down in the tub. She was wearing only her jeans and a bra. As I grabbed a seat on the toilet, I notice that “TV Party” is coming out of the boombox in the kitchen. “How’s it going,” I offer. She doesn't reply. I diligently keep my eye on her and make sure she’s still breathing. That’s really all I could do. I wasn't even going to touch this one.

“What the fuck?”

“What?” I look up to see that Tiger is standing in the doorway.

“Why did you take her top off?” he snaps.

“It was off when I got here!” I say. “And who the fuck says top?”

Kelly announces to the bathroom that “It’s right here!” And clumsily pulls it out from underneath her. It is soaking wet and looks like she was in and lost a tomato fight earlier in the evening.

“And why did you put her feet by the drain?” I ask. “You shoulda put her face down there? If she pukes again, she’s gonna be swimming in it!”

“Dude,” he explains. “You have no idea what it took to get her in there.”

Just then she heaves and we watch as the puke cascades down around her body on its way to the drain. As we both just shake our heads, a loud “What the fuck” erupts from the kitchen as the cassette player is simultaneously snapped off. Chris is home.

“Fuck,” Tiger whispers and we both figured we were dead. Surprisingly, Chris is in a great mood! He’s only half-pissed we took his cassette and genuinely thrilled that we got girls to come over. We didn't tell him that they just showed up with no actual effort put forth by either one of us. 

Chris had to go to some shitty job early the next morning and wanted to quickly clean up the bullshit that would potentially keep him up all night. He was like The Wolf from Pulp Fiction. He had the girls drinking water in the kitchen, Kelly in a clean top borrowed from their sister and both girls singing a synchronized story in about ten minutes. He also deduced it would be easier to drop the girls at Kelly’s house because they had a better chance of sneaking in unnoticed and not needing their cover story. Sadly, none of Chris' prep work mattered, because they got busted walking up the driveway and are still grounded to this day.

The three of us went back to the kitchen, finished a beer together and listened to the Repo Man soundtrack one more time.

That’s a special memory for me. At that point in my life there weren't many unsupervised late nights with friends and there was never anything like this! Girls, booze, life changing music and hi-jinks filled my head with an inflated sense of self-coolness. I’m not the weird guy with glasses! I’m the ballsy little shit that took a chance and didn't have any consequences!

Nights like that were always special because the experiences were so new. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing, but it sure was fun to try new things. It was those first nights like that that opened my eyes to new things and helped me realize I didn't want to be like everybody else. I just needed some help figuring out how to do that.

Thinking back to what lead me to wanting to be different, if I look at what my life was like in the spring of 1985, it’s pretty easy to see why I wanted a change. I had just spent the last seven or eight years watching Happy Days every Tuesday night, my dad listened to Pink Floyd The Dark Side Of The Moon in his car way too much, I played football every fall, I was an only child and spent a lot of time by myself. I was bored!

I knew I was gonna like the Repo Man soundtrack before the words, “wanna listen to my brother’s copy” left Tiger’s lips. I was thirsty for it! I wanted something other than the same two kinds of radio stations everybody listened to and the same TV shows and movies everybody watched. I still enjoyed a lot of that stuff, but I needed things to augment them and help me create my own identity. I didn't want to just be another face in the crowd. When I first heard this soundtrack and Iggy Pop singing about a witch doctor turning somebody into a toadstool, I didn't react to it with knee-jerk announcement of disdain, “what the fuck is this?” I welcomed it with a sigh of relief.

Epilogue

The impact of Repo Man on Tiger was astronomical! We kind of drifted apart in the next few years as he went full on skateboard Punk! Mohawk, safety pins, plaid pants with suspenders, Agnostic Front painted leather jacket… the whole schmear! He convinced his parents to let him build a giant half-pipe in the backyard and he was even a founding member of renowned hardcore band Snapcase! 

I know he had a kid while very young and according to Wikipedia left the band to get married. Last week he entered a fast food restaurant and just ahead of him, two men get into an argument. One of them pulled a knife. Tiger who would always make the best peace tried to break it up. He was stabbed in the throat… Nah, I’m just fucking with you that’s how Stand By Me ends.

Sadly, I don’t even remember the last time I talked to Tiger. I do remember seeing him at a gas station off of Abbot Road at some point in the 90’s and I didn't bother to say hello. I regret that.