By Brent Hopkins
Daily Bruin Senior Staff
Saying farewell to the dead doesn’t have to be a somber
occasion. Not if you’re an Orange County punk, at least.
For the near-capacity crowd filling the vast expanse of Irvine
Meadows Amphitheater, Saturday’s tribute to Dennis Danell,
late guitarist of Social Distortion, was not a time for mournful
reflection. Rather, it was a loud, raucous goodbye, a final
send-off for the longtime anchor of the SoCal punk scene, who died
of a brain hemorrhage Feb. 29. The spiked hair, tattoo-heavy scene
was out in force to pay its respects, both onstage and off.
Danell was one of the founding members of the California brand
of punk music, one that paved the way for bands such as Bad
Religion, the Offspring, and later, the more pop-based stylings of
Green Day and blink-182. For more than two decades, he solidified
Social D’s blend of roots and punk, tirelessly backing the
band. Originally, he was asked to join the group because leader
Mike Ness needed a friend at his side. Now, 20 years later, this
friendship has been repaid.
The six-hour event, encompassing two stages and offering nine
bands, was presented to raise money for Danell’s wife and two
young children. Each of the performers waived their share of the
proceeds, donating all profits to the family. Though the $30
admission price was on the steep side for those stuck back on the
lawn behind the seats, no one seemed to mind at all. The group
assembled up on the hill cheered just as loud and danced just as
hard as the mad sprawl of devoted fans in the mosh pit in front of
the stage.
Although the highly corporate venue, home of the $6 burritos and
$7 beer, seemed an odd choice for a punk event, the mood was
distinctly anti-commercial.
“This show ain’t about the money,” said Ness,
during Social D’s evening-closing set. “It’s
dedicated to the memory of someone who set out 20 years ago with me
to change things. I’m gonna miss him.”
Things kicked off at 5 p.m., with performances by T.S.O.L. and
Pennywise. By the time X took the stage at 7:15, the crowd was loud
and hungry for more music. The band was more than happy to oblige,
offering an energetic 45-minute workout that threw in elements of
rockabilly and classic rock ‘n’ roll. Though this was
well-received, it was nothing compared to the response given to the
Offspring, up next on the main stage.
Though there was grumbling that the Offspring should not have
been included due to its mainstream success, all of this feeling
evaporated as the band took the stage with its violent driving
anthem “Bad Habit.” Fans screamed their approval and
enthusiastically welcomed lead singer Dexter Holland onstage. In
response, the band offered a set consisting mainly of its earlier,
punkier material. High-octane punk tunes like “Kick Him While
He’s Down” and “Smash” comprised the
majority of the act, which quelled doubts of the band’s
status as a commercial sellout. Though the predictable hits
“Pretty Fly for a White Guy” and
“Self-Esteem” showed up as well, the Offspring stayed
more in the punk realm for the majority of its time onstage.
The high point of the evening didn’t come from a screaming
singer or an electric guitar, however. It came from one man,
singing alone, with only his acoustic guitar to back him up.
Ness himself took the stage at 10 p.m., playing unsupported to
begin his last goodbye to his longtime friend and collaborator.
Dressed simply in black slacks, a button-down shirt and black
fedora, he was far more sedate than his usual menacing, tough guy
self. As the spotlights washed over him, he walked to the mic and
thanked the crowd for its support.
“We lost a good one,” he said simply, before
performing a mellow, stripped-down version of “When the
Angels Sing.”
The tender, emotional rendition of the tune focused the crowd,
who then joined in for a massive group rendition of “Ball and
Chain.” Though this was in itself a touching moment, with
even the most thuggish looking fans singing along, it wasn’t
the true measure of the audience’s devotion.
It was in their all-out frenzy when Ness was joined by the rest
of Social D that showed their appreciation. The band has never been
known for its sedate nature, and this night was no exception. As
the quartet ripped through full-throttle send-ups of “The
Creeps” and “Don’t Drag Me Down,” the crowd
erupted with wild energy.
Mosh pits broke out up on the lawn, where fans looking for a way
to express themselves tore off their shirts and lit them on fire.
Seats were once again ripped up and passed around. Even the VIPs
onstage rushed out and dove into the crowd. Throughout, the band
played on with determination.
These are the things that Social Distortion grew on. It
doesn’t play music for reserved, calm audiences; it plays for
the scene that spawned it. Though it might seem like these displays
of aggression are out of place in a tribute show, they’ve
been a part of the band’s concerts since the early days. If
the crowd had stayed docile throughout the night, then it would
have been an incomplete farewell.
As the curfew hour of 11 p.m. drew close, Ness called for the
Social D signature rendition of Johnny Cash’s “Ring of
Fire.” Even without Danell’s steady, dependable rhythm
guitar, the tune sounded as fresh as ever. After several verses,
the guitars dropped out, leaving only John Maurer’s bass and
the insistent drumbeat. Ness smiled and growled out at the
crowd.
“All right, let’s say goodbye to Dennis,” he
said, pounding his chest and pointing to the sky.
The crowd united for a tremendous roar, drowning out the band in
a final parting. Satisfied, Ness and company wrapped up and walked
off. Though they disappointingly offered no encore, the striking
previous moment was more than enough to get the point across.
Though it was a far cry from the reserved, traditional feeling of a
memorial event, the concert served as a fitting tribute to one of
the punks of the old guard.