Musings —08.18.2011 04:23 PM—
From Sam Sutherland’s much-anticipated Canadian punk book, I surmise:
“With increasing local media attention, word-of-mouth gigs regularly draw hundreds of kids. Bars that had previously ignored punk begin to take notice. The first Calgary one to offer punk a home is on the main floor of the rundown Calgarian Hotel that caters to the local King’s Crew Motorcycle Club and First Nations population. It’s a dive somehow eking out an existence on a seedy block of an otherwise upper-class town. Located downtown on Seventh Street S.E., hard-drinking punks of the Calgary Hotel have the run of the bar’s back room for whatever riotous noise they want to make, so long as they bring their own PA, and patrons at the front don’t get too freaked out by the influx of underage, short-haired military-looking goons.
“Our first show, this little guy comes up and stares at us for a song, and we just keep playing,” says Kinsella. “Finally he walks away, and our manager walks up to us and says, ‘Do you know who that was? That was the head of the King’s Crew.’ Apparently some of the bikers were pissed that we had taken over their bar. And he was deciding if we were going to live or not.”