Todd Taylor isn't your average punk rock aficionado. But then, to that he'd probably reply, "What the hell is 'your average punk rock aficionado,' and where do you get off using 'punk rock' and 'aficionado' in the same freaking sentence?" Two good questions sure, but even he'd admit the pop culture stereotype of the spiked hair punk with bad hygiene, worse manners and anarchy in their soul is a pervasive one. Though there is some truth in that image of the face of punk rock, it -- due to a stereotype's inherently narrow focus -- distorts and leaves out much of what is actually there. Which, it seems to me, is one reason Taylor has written Born To Rock, a book consisting of three personal essays wrapped around 17 interviews conducted with "the people who compose the mind and energy behind punk rock in its current incarnation."

Steve Hansen: You graduated from Northern Arizona University (the Lumberjacks?) with a Master's degree in literature. Was there any concentration in a certain time period (Medieval lit, Victorian period, etc) or particular school of writing or author?

Todd Taylor: Yep, a Lumberjack. The same fiberglass mascot - with a muffler instead of an axe in his hand - is in front of an auto parts store in St. George, Utah.

The concentration of my Master's was creative writing. I took the pretty standard course regimen - rhetoric, comparative literature, survey courses, the works. My heart was and is in creative writing. As for authors I looked up to? Thomas Pynchon, Haruki Murakami, Richard Brautigan, Cormac McCarthy, George Orwell, and Steinbeck are among my favorites. Since graduating, I'd have to add Nelson Algren and Oscar Zeta Acosta, too, along with the journalist George Seldes. I wrote a novel for my thesis. I believe it was the longest thesis the NAU English Department had ever accepted. At the time, I was happy with it - it's called The Insect King, and it's about a guy who believes that insects are living inside his blood - but I've been revising it over the last eight years. It's, uhhngg, about 1,200 pages long right now and needs a serious trimming. That's definitely something I want to finish and stop thinking about.

SH: Twelve Hundred pages! Lengthwise, that's definitely Pynchon territory.

TT: As a reader and writer, I think Pynchon kinda fucked me up as much as he helped me. After ten years of writing on the book, I realized that the best way to write it would be the most direct route, instead of mapping the equivalent of V2 rocket trajectories in Gravity's Rainbow, having shit blow up all over the place, and spending pages worth of description on English confections. I've been focusing much more on storytelling lately - just a well-crafted, honest tale - instead of trying to dazzle the reader with cleverness. Pynchon - there's no denying his power - but I'm finding my own voice, which I'm very happy with.

SH: Keeping with the subject of authors that you admire, in Born To Rock you say that you were turned onto Nelson Algren by some lyrics in the song 'Doublewhiskeycokenoice,' by the band Dillinger Four. As you say in the D4 interview, Nelson Algren, a contemporary of Ernest Hemingway, was wildly popular and highly respected 50 years ago, but now is "basically forgotten." Why, in your opinion, do you think this is?

TT: I'm not quite sure. I'm pretty far away, reading-wise, from what's been tamped down into the barrel of the literature canon. All I can say is that it's a shame that he's been sidelined. It's not that hard to find one of his books. If you're looking for an author that definitely wasn't a tourist with a typewriter, who stayed in the underbelly without romanticizing it, Algren's a sure bet. His hit/miss ratio is better than Burroughs's and Bukowski's, too.

SH: How does a turn-of-the-century punk rock band come to mention him in a song?

TT: Dillinger Four is a bunch of smart dudes. Never underestimate the power of Midwestern punk rock. The winters are long. They hole up for a long time, thinking about stuff and making songs, and in the summer, they explode. Plus, I think they get a better version of NPR.

SH: I mean, how many Average schmos would ever associate 'punk rock' with 'literature'?

TT: Few. However, I don't want to betray myself. I like to read. I like loud, aggressive music. I've been doing both activities conscientiously since the age of thirteen or fourteen. Why not put the two together? Why not try to attract as many people who have the same interests and perpetuate it? I don't want someone else coming along, from the outside, and telling me what my stories are, what punk rock's about. I believe it's in the same Dillinger Four interview, where Paddy's talking about labor in this country. Sure, you can get a professor give a well-researched, fully documented treatise on what it's like to be poor and working class in America, or you can talk to a janitor or the grounds keeper. Who are you going to learn more from if you take the time to listen? I tend to pay more attention to the people with calluses on their hands or who are elbow-deep in running a record label or putting on shows. Punk rock, to me, is struggle. Some of the best literature in existence today was borne of struggle.

SH: A sub-culture, such as punk rock, owes its existence to the very culture it claims to be subverting. Bands that come to be self-supporting -- like NOFX and Hot Water Music -- seem unable to escape being labeled as 'sell outs' by some (not all) punk rock enthusiasts. Sour grapes and jealousy can account for much of this rancor, but, in your opinion, is there anything to the notion that too much success automatically corrupts creativity?

TT: Yes and no. Pull back the blanket a bit. NOFX not only created a sustainable income for themselves, they reinvested in Fat, and built a small empire for and by themselves. If that's labeled selling out or corruption, that's fucking stupid. Also, I know that the guys in Hot Water Music are doing their best to not just re-do and fill-in-the-anthems of their earlier works. I'm not an across-the-board fan of their last couple of albums, but to say that their creativity is corrupted because they can now tour full time and work on music without having to wash dishes the day after they get home doesn't hold up in the wash.

I'll posit this, though: Too much success early on really fucks with bands. They get big heads and often experience amnesia for people who helped them out in the very beginning. I also believe that if a band forgets their roots, and goes for gross income, then yeah, corruption results because they're listening to suits and reps and "pro" dudes. It's almost impossible for them to think and play for themselves when there's someone counting beans in the back room.

Both NOFX and HWM toured incessantly, played tiny shows, and traveled in broken vans for a long time before any sizable crowds had formed. I don't think they've forgotten that.

So, automatic correlation? I don't think so, but you could slide rule it against how hard the band worked in obscurity and what they learned from when times were lean.

SH: You've got to love what you're doing, in other words, no matter what kind of material wealth it brings or doesn't bring you. Reminds me of something you wrote about your grandmother in the opening essay about how she said she never amounted to much in this world, although the impact she had on your life seems to say otherwise.

TT: When I would go visit my grandparents as a kid, my grandfather was still alive. He was a blustery guy. Big. Didn't mince words. He was ex-Navy, and by the time I was old enough and had longer conversations with him, he had become an ex-tax collector. At the time, my brother was thinking about going into the military and Grandpa John was emphatic that it was a bad idea because he'd given the service most of the years of his life and felt rejected by them at the end. He didn't feel he was given his due. Although he was on the teams who helped engineer mid-air refueling and the cabling system on aircraft carriers for planes to land on short runways, he didn't get much credit because he was an enlisted man and part of a crew, instead of the sole inventor. He hammered into both my brother and me that we had to do our own things, had to go to college, and work at starting our own businesses. Andy, my brother, is getting promoted to a major in the Army next month. He's in the Special Forces, ranger-qualified, a pathfinder, active airborne. I went the completely different way. I started my own business from scratch and money I'd saved up from working. I'm still scratching away. It's pretty much what I know how to do.

What I learned from my grandmother was humility and saving money. Although she swore she never amounted to anything, she did something that is absolutely rare. She was a life-long, living example of what a good, honest person could be. She was powerful, and really proud of what I was doing, although she had no idea or concept of what punk rock was about. Yeah, I love what I'm doing.

SH: You and your grandmother were both ejected from moving automobiles -- albeit compared to your grandmother's snow-drift landing, yours was a serious crash in which a friend of yours was killed and you were cut up badly and embedded with glass and gravel. But is their any cosmic significance in these two similar "accidents?"

TT: It took a lot to throw off my grandmother. She seemed basically unflappable and, in a very quiet way, she was really funny. When she got ejected from the car into a snow bank, she just brushed herself off, waited for Grandpa to return, and commented on him "leaving something behind" when he found out she was no longer in the car. Having been in serious accidents and experiencing a lot of misfortune come my way, I think I'm very grounded. I know how the world feels when it's literally crumbling around me, and when someone I love dies within strides of me, so when I'm having a frustrating day or plans fall apart, I don't get unhinged. I'm really hard pressed to think of a time when Grandma Kelly raised her voice, even when she had full justification to yell at us. I've taken a lot from that. Although I'm extremely passionate about what I do and how I do it, I'm most often a really mellow, even-keeled guy.

SH: Somehow mellow and even-keeled aren't adjectives you'd associate with a punk rocker. But that's it, right. What you're saying is punk rock is more than a stereotype. They can be dangerous and full of criminal intent or good-natured and mellow just like anybody in any group or organization. But, also, your 7 concussions could have something to do with your current mellow outlook.

TT: I've been able to contain my anger and rage and have them blow out in the right directions. That was an important lesson to learn. I still seethe, but I have a big safety valve with writing and publishing my own stuff. I also skate a bunch and am now actively wrangling with the city I live in to make a great concrete skate park. That's a perfect example. I have to deal with condescending bureaucrats, who suspect I'm a schmub they can easily steamroller. I'm not the most kept person. The cool thing is that, being mellow; I've been able to help sway a lot of the older residents around where the skate park is going to be built with informational packets. Since I'm approachable, they've listened to me when I've explaining what the city planners are deceptively trying to do. (Like no-bid contracts and the suspiciously high cost of wood modular parks.) I'm not just screaming, running away, saying "These people just don't understand me!" then kicking in some flower pots and yelling "anarchy."

You're right about the concussions, though. When I'm staring down at 9 feet of over-vert concrete transition, the thought does occasionally go through my head that most thirty-two-year-olds don't put themselves in similar positions when they're playing golf. As Toys That Kill sing, "What's a trip without a little danger?"

SH: As well as writing the book and conducting all the interviews therein, you also took most of the photos. Was photography something you've been doing for a while?

TT: Photography came out of necessity. It was difficult to triangulate a photographer to a show where I was interviewing a band, so I just started out with a point and shoot. The pictures were pretty crappy, but with anything I spend more than a year on, I wanted to learn more. So I invested in better equipment, figured out what all the buttons did, and now I have a photo archives that take over an entire closet. Dan Monick, who took the cover shot of Born to Rock, is the person who's helped me out the most with photography. Here's a typical day with Dan. We were supposed to meet up, and I'm at his house. About ten minutes later, he walks up to me and smiles, camera in hand. "Dude, I just met my neighbor for the first time. I was taking pictures of his grass. He's got great grass. Nice guy. Want some coffee?" Dan opened up to me how to look at things. He'll stop and stare at a building and say, "Man, that's some nice reflective light." He's got a very non-arty collection of shopping cart pictures. It's cool to see things that I didn't see before, and Dan's not stingy with technical advice, either. Hopefully, some of what I've learned over the years shows in my photography. I'm not even close to Dan's league, but it's nice to be able to capture people in action and have the exposure right. The rest is pure gravy.

SH: There is a notable instance of overexposure in the book. I'm talking about that photo of Dillinger Four's stout bass player, Paddy, clad only in his tiny bikini briefs onstage. What is going on there? Does he perform that way often?

TT: Paddy's often naked by the end of a set. He's a big guy. I remember seeing Dillinger Four in Corona, California and having the bouncer bear hug Paddy, sweaty and naked, and say, "There are kids here. You can't do that." I think they're still banned from the Showcase for that incident, but I could be wrong. I have a funny picture of him from behind, also naked. He looks like a waddling baby with a guitar strap. At one point, Paddy was concerned that D4 would be relegated to gimmick band status, like "Oh, here's where Paddy gets naked! Take off you pants!" so I think he sheds clothing for special occasions. Or the whiskey scale is tipped into "Ah, fuckit" mode and the pants will fly off. He's not shy.

SH: Also, a conspicuous underexposure. Although we get to see the fiery Born To Rock tattoo emblazoned across your belly and the clean shaven top of your head, there's not a photo of your face anywhere in the book. Why?

TT: As for no pictures of me in the book, that's a byproduct of working with Flipside. There were a number of people that contributed, and basically their columns or live reviews would be, "This is me with the band. This is me eating. This is me standing in line at the bank." That always bugged me. I wanted to see pictures of bands, of music being made. As time went on, I was glad I didn't have my picture in the magazine because I could hang out with my friends at shows without being given tons of demo tapes and glad-handed by people in bands who thought I could give them some press.

I'm slowly becoming more comfortable with being photographed and having my picture taken. I'll happily give pictures of myself to other sources, but you'll never see a recognizable picture of me in Razorcake or in any book I write. (Once, I removed my head from a picture and replaced it with my Dad dressed as Santa Claus. It was ridiculous, but people still believed it was me.)

It goes back to why I'm doing this: to repay a debt. Music saved my life. I want to celebrate it as articulately as possible, not aggrandize myself.

SH: Celebrate, but don't self-aggrandize. That's a pretty good summation of what punk rock (as I now understand it from reading Born To Rock) wants to be or, rather, just is. And of course, the music. It all starts and ends there, doesn't it.

TT: It really does. It all goes back to music, bands, and places to see bands. Everything just zings off from there: politics, activism, searching for deeper meaning, looking for workable alternatives. If the music wasn't there - to galvanize, raise questions and ruckuses - I don't think there'd be such a sustainable subculture.

I think that it's a healthy thing that people take what they love with them when they get older. I know school teachers, lawyers, and dentists who like punk rock. Even though they don't follow it every day, they can see the benefits of looking at the world a little differently, from a little more gritty perspective. It also helps things from getting too mundane.

Hopefully, that's what people will get from my book. I'm not retarding myself because I love a certain type of music. I just want to show folks that - like surfing did in the '60s - that it's a legitimate, life-long way to look at life that's more about difficult growth than easy destruction. That there's more to this than first meets the eye.

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Steve Hansen reviews Todd Taylor's book. read more...

April 17th, Taylor is heading out on a weeklong, six-city book tour. If you'd like to catch one of his readings, check out the cities and the dates and the locations below. If you’re polite enough to stop slam dancing long enough to listen to him read, he might even show you his tattoo.

San Diego, Saturday, April 17th, 8 PM, at M-Theory Music, 3004 Juniper St. (619) 269-2963

Tucson, Sunday, April 18th, 3 PM, Bookman's, 1930 E. Grant Rd. (520) 325-5767

Phoenix (Tempe), Mon., April 19th, 8 PM, Eastside Records, 217 W. University Dr. (480) 968-2011

Flagstaff, Tues. April 20th, 6:30 PM, Coconino Community College, Lonetree Campus, 2800 S. Lonetree Rd.

Boulder City, Weds. April 21st, 7 PM, Boulder City Library, 701 Adams Blvd.

Las Vegas, Thurs., April 22nd, Balcony Lights, 7 PM, 4800 S. Maryland Parkway, #K (702) 228-2763