It’s 1980. I’m a first semester college student and I have discovered something fantastic. I’m about to sort of become a punk rocker. Sort of.

In the summer before I started college, a friend from high school asked me if I wanted to stop by the campus radio station he was working at before we headed downtown to lunch. (Hamburger Station for all you Devil Strip lovers).

We walked into the WAUP studios…and that was it. From that moment until this very day, I knew I wanted to work in media. I was in awe of the turntables, the cool DJs, the boom mics, everything about it shouted out to me….THIS is where you belong! Seeing all those cool upper-class men and women….they all seemed so much older than me at 18…they were, like, 22 or 23. Ancient!

When I started as a freshman that fall, I made the daunting trip to the WAUP door in the basement of Guzzetta Hall and rang the bell. I filled out the application to volunteer, and started training almost immediately. Before the semester was out, I was on the air at The Great 88!!

That alone was mind blowing enough to me. But a little later something much more important happened.

How I Accidentally Became a Punk...It’s All Giselle’s Fault!

I met this other student at the station named Giselle. Giselle was a city girl, I was suburb boy. I was immediately in awe of her. First, she was cool…someone who had stuff going on. She was working with a few bands, sort of kind of doing something close to PR and managing. Her taste in music was something I had never been exposed to…and I liked it.

See, most of my growing up in the quiet suburbs, I listened to Top 40 radio stations on the AM dial. So I grew up on a steady diet of music like Bread, Cat Stevens, and America. Not exactly anything super edgy. And I LOVED disco. Loved it. I slept with my AM transistor radio on my nightstand, always pumping out the hits as I snored. (Heck, I do the exact same thing sometimes now with my iPhone and Spotify. Different millennium, but nearly identical habit. Same tinny sound.)

Giselle lived in a different universe than I did. First of all, she knew all these local bands like Hammer Damage, The Walking Clampetts, and Unit 5. But she also talked to me about groups like The Clash and The Damned…it was as if I had never heard actual music before.

One weekend, she asked me if I wanted to go see some bands at The Bank with her. The Bank was in downtown Akron, and as it’s name might suggest to you, it was actually an old bank building turned into a nightclub.

Now remember, I was a nice suburban boy. I didn’t want to get into any trouble. And some of these folks involved with this punk thing scared me a bit. This was the Big City after all, a place that would chew up and spit out soft little suburban babies like me. I was terrified. But I went. Such was the power of Giselle’s coolness.

Did I mention I was terrified? We walked into The Bank and it was like…well… nothing I’d ever experienced. It was old, and beat up, and most everything was painted black….and there was this weird parachute hanging from the ceiling over where the bands would play. And people were wearing things I’d never actually seen someone wear in real life….black leather jackets, army surplus coats, torn jeans, Converse with safety pins in them. It was madness wrapped in chaos.

Giselle knew everyone. She introduced me to her friends, and I have always imagined her subtle message was “he’s a baby….please don’t kill him.” For her part, Giselle got something out of introducing me to all this, too….

“On my side I was always looking for new friends, people to drive me (as I didn’t have a car and wanted to have a few adult beverages) as well as a bodyguard. I always wanted to share what new music I was listening to as well!”

But then I started talking to Giselle’s friends….and…they were…awesome. They loved music like I did. They wanted to talk about bands they’d seen and bands they wanted to see. They talked about the crap state of corporate music, even then. (I admit, though…..I kept silent about my love for disco.)

Then Hammer Damage came out. Time for talk was over.

They came out on fire, shouting and screaming, joking and teasing. Lead singer Donny Damage would make things entertaining….he was a great front guy. I was amazed….for a local band, it sure seemed like everyone already knew all their songs and lyrics. They played an old Doors song that I had become totally bored with on the radio, but now it suddenly sounded cool and alive to me again. They played the theme from The Munsters. And George Cabiniss…the lead guitar player….I had never seen or heard anyone play the way he did in a local band. He was totally self assured, like he was born with a guitar hanging off his shoulder. RIP George. You were amazing.

I decided right then and there: AM radio was BS! The suburbs were BS! Disco was BS! My safe little world was BS!

I was now a punk!

I loved the sound, the attitude, the safety pins in the cheeks, everything. (Although I never worked up the guts to put a safety pin through my skin. I mean, would you do that in the suburbs??) Everyone I talked to was doing something…they were all becoming musicians or artists or writers. NO time for the corporate machinery or status quo!! Time to remake everything, and to do it yourself! Smash everything and rebuild from the broken bits!

So I immersed myself in this new musical world….The Clash (always my fave), The Ramones, The Dead Boys (who George would later play with), The Jam, The Stooges, The MC5, Buzzcocks, and so many more. I even found my own punk theme song, the Electric Eels tune “Agitated.” Messy, sloppy atonal track but all spit and defiance. I loved the rejection of the glistening production on disco records, the raw attitude and loud fuzzy guitars.

But Are You Really a Punk, Phil?

Now you’ll recall I started this by saying I was a Pseudo Punk. It’s true, sadly. I’m a fraud. No matter how much I love The Clash, The Pistols, New York Dolls, or Television…and I do love them….I will never truly be a punk. Because deep down, there’s still that suburb boy listening to the Partridge Family on AM radio. But man, when I think back on those nights at The Bank, all I can do is……

BTW…if you really want to learn more about Akron’s punk scene from this era, pick up Calvin Rydbom’s most excellent book, The Akron Sound: The Heyday of The Midwest’s Punk Capital.

You should also stop by Saint Jimi Imij’s Facebook page where he collects bits and pieces of this history. Jimi is one of the kindest people on the planet and was also involved with Akron’s legendary Zero DFX hardcore band.

And lastly, nothing means anything if one doesn’t recognize Akron’s own esteemed Bard of The Devil Strip, David Giffels. You really need to read his classic: We Are Devo!: Are We Not Men?

Super nerding out about Akron’s punk era? Check out my documentaries that cover this magical time: It’s Everything and Then It’s Gone and If You’re Not Dead, Play!!