K.D. Burkett

On December 22nd, 1985 a passenger van heading West on Arizona’s I-10 drifted off road and crashed, killing one of 20th Century’s most poetic and thought-provoking young artists. Dennes Dale Boon—know more commonly as D. Boone, singer and guitarist of the punk rock trio called the Minutemen— was laying down in the back of the van, sweating and sick with fever.  Tragically, he wasn’t wearing a seat belt. Upon impact, the back doors of the vehicle flew open and Boon was thrown from automobile.  The fall broke his neck.  

In the last 50 years, stories about young musicians suffering untimely deaths have become all-too-common. From Jimi Hendrix to Amy Winehouse to Kurt Cobain, our rock stars seem to wear the shroud of death like a hand-me-down suit. Whether it’s drugs, sex or depression, these artists forget where they come from, and the isolation that fame brings often propels them to tragic ends that overshadow their lives. D. Boon was different: he had a unique relationship with his community. Although he died tragically, his life is what the next generation of musicians and audiophiles in America need to remember.  In an industry that has seen radical change and uncertainty in the last 10 years, with the rise of file sharing and social networking sites obliterating the old model of operation, D. Boon’s ideas on art and music could be the blueprint to building a radically different music industry. 

While Boon was alive the Minutemen were never famous.  His accident took place mere weeks after they embarked upon their first real US tour, opening for REM. He was also not your typical rock and roll archetype. He didn’t do hard drugs, and he never gave in to fashion trends; beyond that, he came from a good home where he was encouraged to play music and supported by people who cared for him. He lived his life as an artist, unmolested by the types of failures that most musicians face, in large part, because of the opportunities for exploration and development that he was afforded by his community. He drew power from the possibilities he saw in art, and the burgeoning punk rock movement, and his conviction came out in his music. It endeared him first to his fans home in Southern California in the 1980’s, and then to the generations of young musicians who he’s since inspired.  

Punk rock, in the beginning, was a populist movement—anti-celebrity, anti-fame— and D’s story is the perfect populist parable. He grew up in San Pedro, CA, a typical working class town in California.  When he got interested in music, he wasn’t particularly talented, he didn’t have any sort of special aptitude for it, but he did have a Mother that went out of her way to support him.  She gave him a space to learn and explore. She allowed him to develop the skills that he needed to be successful. And when he was ready, he stepped out into a community that was encouraging.        

In addition to learning to play the guitar, Boon also was encouraged to learn about music and poetry and art, and he developed a real skill with words.  By the time he was out of High School he talked about art and music with so much passion and honesty that you simply felt it. By all measure, D. Boon was a poet. The Minutemen were one of the most important, and overlooked, bands of the 1980’s because they brought poetry to punk rock.  Before he died, D. left us with one of the greatest lines of the 20th century (that most people have never heard): “There should be a band on every block, a nightclub on every other block, and a record label on every block after that.”

Consider that nothing about rock and roll—and the music industry in general— has ever been populist, and while punk rock was, ideologically, an anti-elitist movement, in practice it was something entirely different. The Ramones were known for playing tricks on other bands when they went on tour early in their career.  They had a fondness for “pissing the keg” when they played shows with bands that they considered inferior to them—which was everyone.  Johnny Ramone has talked candidly about how he viewed other emerging groups in the late 70’s as his competition.  And still, this is nothing compared to what happens on a nightly basis at your local club. Truth be told, it can be a vicious environment. I once watched two musicians get into a screaming match and nearly come to blows because one of them thought, since his band had just come home from a week long tour, they should get the sweet spot in the order that evening. There were 3 bands playing 30 minute sets.  It’s this kind of petty, egotistical, macho bullshit that makes your local music scene a toxic environment.  It’s also probably the reason that there are so few women playing rock’n’roll.

As patrons of music, we also have unrealistic expectations.  There is a premium in music placed on youth that is counter-intuitive. It is expected, unrealistically, that an artist’s sound and stage presence will be fully developed the moment they step onto a stage.  Realistically, these are skills that only come after years and years of practice.  The best bands in the world are bands who have a combination of years of experience and natural talent, but unfortunately, the vast majority of these bands never get signed by labels because of the premium that we put on youth.  D. Boon, however, lived in a community that supported young artists, and found ways to give these kids artistic outlets.  A lot of it probably had to do with the number of ex-hippies cranking out children in the 1970’s, and instilling a set of values in their kids that was a hang over from the 1960’s.  There was also a movement, in the early 80’s throughout California, to keep kids out of gangs, and local government did a good job of creating venues and recreational centers where teenagers could hang out.  It gave them a platform to develop their musical abilities.  These kids started performing live when they were young, to an audience of peers; as a result, there was a sort of brotherhood between bands in the California scene that didn’t exist in other parts of the country.

Consider also that pop radio is, and has always been, wrought with fraud.  In the 1980’s and 90’s major record labels were commonly using third party promotion companies to bypass payola laws.  While it was deemed illegal for record labels to pay radio DJs to play certain songs directly, it was not illegal for a third party promoter to do, essentially, the exact same thing. This meant that there was no national outlet for bands like the Minutemen.  Greg Ginn founded SST Records in the early 80’s in order to give these California punk rock bands an outlet, but they were limited to short runs of 300 or 500 records in the beginning.  SST couldn’t buy their way onto popular radio, but the records they put out sold quickly on a local level.  It showed that a local label could establish a model of sustainability without national exposure.  You didn’t need popular radio if you had a community that was supportive.  The Minutemen’s first record, “The Punch Line,” came out on SST in 1981.  It wasn’t until former New York State Attorney General Eliott Spitzer began prosecuting major record labels for 3rd party payola violations in 2005 that anyone addressed the issue on a legal level; Sony BMG, Warner Music Group, and Universal Music Group were all fined several million dollars. In 2007 the FCC officially made these loopholes illegal nationally, but all of these issues made D. Boon’s grand vision an impossibility outside of the California scene.  

All of that changed in August, 2003, when MySpace was launched.    

It wasn’t the first social network, but MySpace definitely had the biggest impact on musicians and the music industry.  It gave artists a free platform that was accessible instantly, anywhere on Earth, and it freed consumers from their corrupt radio dial.  Technology had accomplished something that D. Boone couldn’t while he was alive. Groups like Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Black Moth Super Rainbow and the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s were the vanguard of a new crop of artists that came from virtually nowhere and used online hype to dictate better terms with record labels, or sidestepped record labels entirely.  They were successful because fans were able to go straight to the source.  MySpace also fueled the rise in prominence of blogs such as StereoGum and Pitchfork, who, whether you love or hate them, were among the first sites to recognize the changing climate of the music industry and provide in-depth coverage of the new music.  If D. Boon had lived, what would he have to say? For a short period of time we got a taste of his vision made reality.

Today, MySpace is a smoking toxic ruin riddled with wolves-in-sheep’s clothing. Almost as soon as MySpace launched, artists were under siege by companies that wanted nothing more than to make a quick dime off them, offering services and products that they simply didn’t need.  Other sites, like BandCamp and Last FM, appeared to pick up the slack, but there are always hidden fees lurking around the corner. The situation is exacerbated by websites like SonicBids, who have negotiated booking rights to prominent festivals— such as South By South West— and venues.  Today, an artist is forced to pay a fee to “bid” on a performance slot, where once the band could simply email an organizer an electronic press kit for consideration.  The number of these “vulture” sites, along with escalating gas prices and a bad economy, make it nearly impossible for a young band playing original music to make any serious money on tour— and that, of course, means that it’s much harder to make a living as a musician.  

D. Boon’s noble idea— an idyllic, populist music scene— might be out of reach, but it’s not all bad news. While the internet and “vulture” sites represent a new hurdle, musicians have more tools and platforms for promotion at their disposal than their predecessors, and the cost of recording is now a fraction of what it was ten years ago. Videos have clearly become a key component in any artists success, and D. Boon would’ve seen potential in websites like Vimeo and YouTube.  But the truth is that, right now, there is no model for success in the music industry. Because of how easy it is to release a record online, and because there are so many bands, the consumer has all the power.  Whether or not a musician can make depends, now more than every, on the community in which they live.

This might well be the only enduring change of the last 15 years, and as a result, it’s up to fans to help new artists directly on a different level. Elements of D. Boon’s vision still exist, and there is always something to do beyond simply downloading a song.  Start a dialogue with bands you like. It’s often possible to establish relationships with musicians through social networking sites, and typically, they love to hear from their fans.  Sites like Kickstarter exist to help artists fund their project.  Be a conscious consumer. Buy a record from the section marked “local,” and get involved in your local scene.  See a band, open a club, or start a label.  D. Boon could never have reached so many people if he didn’t have the support of his community, and there is a group of artists out there right now that are brilliant, and they need your support.  If you’re tired of the music you hear on the radio, and you’re passionate about music, then help change the culture in America.  It all starts with you.