House of Anarchy

Growing up in Brampton, I caught wind of a place that sadly I never once had the privilege of going to, it was a place known as the "House of Anarchy" or "House of A" for short. Some of my older thrasher buddies had attended a few parties there and they were the ones who brought it to my attention.

As legend had it, the House of A was a residence inhabited by members of F.B.I. and their circle of friends. Essentially it was a party house and a flop house for punks, thrashers, and everyone in between. I could be wrong about who actually lived there but I am going on memory, memories from 25 years ago.

From what I understood the place was a non stop party, I'm pretty sure they even had bands play there on occasion but don't quote me on that. I may actually do some more research on this subject so don't be surprised if you see a follow up post to this one at some point in the near future. In fact if you the reader personally have any memories, stories, or inside knowledge, please feel free to send them to me via email at:
theofour20@hotmail.com

All I really knew besides the above stated, was that the House of A was quite close to where I lived. I would pass by it everyday during the 15 minute stretch I walked from my house to my high school. Every time I passed by it my head was filled with imagery of how I envisioned it and imagined it to be on the inside. I didn't see paint or wallpaper on the walls, I saw graffiti, stickers, and vandalism. I didn't see furniture like you'd typically see in a house, I saw empty rooms with drunk and high people sprawled across the floor, partaking in party festivities regardless of the time of day or the day of the week.

I honestly don't know what the inside looked like, nor do I know much about the houses history. All I know is how I imagined it in my brain, and how I longed to have stepped foot inside, even if it was only for one magical moment, because in my mind anarchy is freedom and freedom is anarchy...

Not the National Wrestling Alliance

Being a fan of rap from the moment the flood gates opened, I had the privilege of hearing and discovering all sorts of groups right from the get go. Grandmaster Flash, RUN D.M.C., Public Enemy, Kurtis Blow, The Fat Boys, LL Cool J, Twin Hype, Boogie Down Productions, Biz Markie, Fast Eddie, Erik B. & Rakim, Big Daddy Kane, EPMD, Schoolly D, Beastie Boys, and 2 Live Crew, these were the early pioneers of the music and essentially all that was available to the public. One thing they all seemed to have in common was that they all came from the east coast.

Little did I know that out on the west coast there was a whole new world of rap I had yet to discover, but it wasn't JUST rap, they had their own flavour going on out west, it was called "Gangsta Rap" pioneered by the first west coast rapper I ever heard, Ice T. I could go on about Ice but I shall save that for another day. On this particular day I truly have no memory or recollection of how I acquired it, but somehow I got my hands on a cassette tape called "Straight Outta Compton" by a group named N.W.A. (Niggaz With Attitude) The album cover depicted a group of black men in a circle staring down at perhaps you, the victim on the ground. Genius idea I thought to myself immediately. I also knew I didn't want to be the guy on the ground.

I had always been comparing the parallels between rap and hardcore, but this new tape just solidified my philosophy on the matter as this was some seriously hardcore shit! The crew was made up of 6 members, DJ Yella, Dr.Dre, Arabian Prince, MC Ren, Ice Cube, & Eazy E. The beats and music were extremely aggressive and in your face, somewhat similar to Public Enemy. Each MC had his own unique style and voice, and they had no qualms about getting in your face with it, their delivery almost more of a yell as opposed to the laid back raps of the easy coast style. Needless to say I was completely enamoured from the moment I heard the opening line of the first song. With track titles like "Fuck Tha Police" & "Gangsta Gangsta" N.W.A. painted a portrait of the street life out on Los Angeles and they definitely weren't afraid to say anything.

I truly thought these guys were legitimate killers, at least that's what some of the lyrics portrayed. Previously to this group, I had never really heard many rappers talk much about having guns and murdering people, but it seemed like that was all these guys did! I wondered how they could admit to heinous crimes on a recording without fearing the backlash they could suffer if the wrong ears heard such words. Eventually I came to the conclusion that they weren't really killers. I thought perhaps they were involved with the gang life at one point in their lives, and now through the salvation of music they could escape the gangland warfare and tell their tales. Whatever the story was, it didn't matter to me. All I knew was these guys made some awesome music and kicked the ass of my ear drums.

N.W.A. were also responsible for everyone and their mother wearing L.A. Raiders gear. Jackets, hats, toques, you name it. Raiders gear was everywhere you looked and it appeared everyone wanted to be a "Gangsta Gangsta" myself included. I stood back from the flock of Raiders sheep and wondered what new sounds may spawn from the west that I might be fortunate enough to encounter...

Hair Doesn't Make The Man

After the Slayer concert, another cold, heartless, and forgettable winter had passed and the fresh scent of spring was in the air once again. It was time to bust out the jam shorts and skateboards. It was time once again for underage drinking in public places while we searched for parties. It was also time for a major change in my life.

I wasn't very happy with the way my hair was growing. A few of my friends had shaved their heads and now I too was contemplating it. Now that I was more into hardcore punk as opposed to metal, hair didn't seem that important to me, and as the age old saying goes "Hair doesn't make the man"

One day on lunch a few friends of mine were heading over to a buddy's house for lunch and haircuts. I decided to tag along as the time had come to shed these long locks of mine. I was so eager and excited that I asked to be first. The "barber" in charge asked me which level of guard I wanted on the clippers. I insisted on no guard as I wanted my head shaved down to the skin.

It was such a strange feeling, going from a full mop of hair to a clean, bald head. When I returned to school after lunch all of my female friends were in shock, and practically in tears, over the fact I had removed my hair.

I was anticipating going home at the end of the day to show my folks the new doo. I assumed they would be happy that I didn't have long hair anymore. Much to my disbelief my mother flipped her lid screaming "why did you cut your hair so short?" I couldn't figure out why she was so upset. She absolutely despised my long hair and now she despised the fact that I had no hair! There was no winning this hair battle. Parents. Go figure...

Punk Rock Girl

Connie was a French high school student who lived in what at the time we considered the far outskirts of Brampton, the area of Sandalwood and highway 10. She went to catholic school just like my former girlfriend Lydia. I don't know what it was with me and catholic school girls but oh how I adored them so.

We started out talking on the phone, I of course took advantage of the fact she gave me her number, and we would chat for hours and hours. I'd tell her about all my favourite bands and it wasn't uncommon for me to play her songs over the phone via my little boom box. We even had our own song, "In My Eyes" by none other than Minor Threat.

Although she was uniformed, it was clear as crystal that this girl was a freak, or a punk, or whatever she classified herself as. Her fire engine red hair was usually crimped and styled unlike no other girls hairdoo I had ever seen.

As natural of a beauty as she was, Connie wore fairly heavy amounts of make up, not to cover any flaws as in my eyes she was flawless. Her heavy and stylized eyeliner jobs were merely an extension of her personality.

After weeks of talking we started meeting on a regular basis. She would take the bus to the mall from her school, and I would walk to the mall as I always did. We would walk around holding hands, we would shop, we would eat in the food court and chat, and of course she would have to accompany me to my favourite spot in the entire mall, The Hex Arcade.

Every time we went out she always had one request, that I wear my bandana and hair in front of my face like the day I met her. I had no problem with it but after awhile I started wondering if she actually liked me or just my freaky styley. We would head back to my place afterwards and make out in my room until it was time for her dad to come pick her up.

Connie brought me and a few of my boys to a party once with all of her French friends. As much as I liked her, for the life of me I couldn't figure out why she hung around with all of these boring, uptight people, as this was easily the worst party I had ever been to. I decided to bust out the infamous chain trick to spice things up and it did not go over well at all. Every guy was intimidated, every girl was screaming in horror, and I think one of them even puked.

Eventually she ended up breaking it off with me for reasons I can't quite remember, but I do remember I was quite devastated, as I had developed intense feelings for her. I was scorned, heart broken, and that led to hate and rage. I now despised this person I cared so dearly for.

I never saw, nor heard from her again, until about a year later when I saw her in the mall. To my amazement and disbelief she was pushing a stroller around with her new born child in it, at her side her new pint sized boyfriend. I remember thinking to myself "Sucker" for my life was just beginning, and the way I saw things their lives were ending...

Dance Dance Execution

So I had been growing my hair all summer after my mother "beaned" me, and now as 1989 was rapidly approaching my hair had grown quite long. Although I was trying to grow it all one length it appeared like my bangs were growing faster than the back of my hair was.

It seemed as if the back of my hair barely hung past the collar of my leather/denim jacket combo, yet my bangs were way past my chin, practically to the collar of my shirt. My teachers were constantly complaining about how they couldn't see my eyes and accusations of me sleeping in class were constantly hurled.

One day Jazzy Jeff and the crew mentioned they were going to be DJ'ing a school dance at none other than the French school down the street from my old house, a place I had spent many of hours skateboarding, smoking, and playing handball....or murder ball. Jeff asked me if I'd be interested in coming to help out with moral support and I eagerly agreed, with one exception: he would have to play a few songs from a few of my favourite records. Jeff was cool with that and the stage was set.

When the day arrived I decided to try something different. I combed all of my hair forward and then tied on a bandana ala Andy Anderson style from Attitude Adjustment. The effect it caused looked great, a wall of hair raining out the front of the bandana, completely covering my devilish good looks, leaving me to appear faceless. I tossed on my $5.00 D.R.I. shirt, army pants, Chuck Taylor's, and I was ready to roll!

The dance was your typical grade 8 dance, which in general is fairly lame, except for the fact that my boys ran a bad ass DJ crew and they played nothing but the best music. Eventually Jeff through on some of my music and the next thing you knew I was thrashing about the dance floor filling people with fear. Jeff even abandoned his post behind the wheels of steel and joined me in the mosh festivities. All the kids seemed fascinated by our actions and some of them even joined in. Eventually the teachers broke up the fun as they obviously were not thrilled about their students slam dancing.

Things seemed to get a bit lame and tame so I decided it was time once again to liven up the party. I retreated to the bathroom, removed my dog tag sink chain from around my neck, and proceeded to sniff it up my nose, let it fall down my throat, and then spit the other end out my mouth and attached the links. Little did I know someone caught wind of the chain trick and when I came out of the bathroom practically all the kids were gathered around waiting to see. I soaked up the attention as they all gasped in shock. The next thing I knew some teachers became aware of the situation and decided it was time for me to leave.

I figured I'd hang around outside and wait for the crew since the dance was almost over. No sooner than I lit my cigarette I was approached by a very attractive punk girl who was helping out chaperoning the dance. She proceeded to tell me how much she loved my hair and tell me how cool she thought the chain trick was. The next thing I knew her parents were there to pick her up. She slid a small, folded piece of paper into my hand, smiled at me, and then she was gone.

I opened the paper to find her phone number along with her name....Connie

The Tooth of the Matter

I just wanted to take a quick minute to inform everyone that last weeks posts got cut short due to a terrible toothache, or teeth ache rather, that I've been dealing with.

I'm sure you, just like everyone else would simply ask "Why don't you goto the dentist Kevin?" and yes that does seem like a simple solution to my problem. I just HATE going to the dentist and I have been too tied up with other things to find the time to go. Big shout outs to my little friend Steph for all the kick ass pain killers she has been kind enough to give me so I can deal with this pain and not have any more sleepless nights or miss any more days of work.

Never fear, Heavy Ghetto will resume tomorrow...

Mike C

Now that I was in with my new group of friends I was constantly meeting new people through their circle of friends, some of whom were already graduated and apart of the working world. One of the guys named Jay who we referred to as "Dove" had cool enough parents that they would let us party at their place every weekend and they didn't seem to mind all the underage drinking that was going on. We would have the brews a cracking, the tunes a cranking, and usually super Mario or Ice hockey booted up on the Nintendo.

It was at Jay's that I got acquainted with yet another Mike, Mike Chapman. I had seen Mike around school in grade 9, he was a member of a band called "The Stiffs" who's flyers adorned the high school walls. Mike was what some may call a "goth" or "industrial" he wore all black, a long black trench coat, and he had an extreme flat top hair cut, almost like a cameo, which appeared to make him look 7 feet tall.

I always found him to be somewhat of a big, intimidating guy, until we struck up a conversation at Dove's place one night. Mike ended up being a super nice guy and he was very easy to talk to. Mike didn't seem to mind nor judge me on the fact I was a few years younger than him. As we shot the shit Mike revealed the fact that he worked for the city of Brampton, mainly on the grounds of Chinguacousy park where I frequently skateboarded.

From that point on whenever I was at Ching Park skating I always made a point to keep my eyes open for Mike. I'd usually run into him driving one of the city vehicles around the park. Mike would always stop to talk with me and he never seemed rushed or pressed for time. I truly appreciated the fact he was a genuinely good person who always had light hearted words and humorous statements in store for me.

That went for while we were at school as well, Mike would always say hi when we passed each other in the halls and normally he would stop to talk for a few minutes. Right from the get go of meeting Mike I always felt there was something special and unique about him and I also felt more connected to him than any of the other older dudes I was now hanging out with. I didn't know it at the time but Mike and I would go on to be great friends, roommates, and band mates as the years progressed...