CIRCLE JERKS’ FANS SPLIT BUT UNITED

“Would you like your taxes done?” asks Keith Clark, extending a hand from behind a large oak desk.

An unsuspecting visitor to the Hollywood office of the notorious Circle Jerks can’t be blamed for being taken aback at such a query.

Perhaps a too-conservative mode of dress or manner has incurred this sarcasm from Clark, the drummer for one of the city’s most well-known and long-standing punk bands. But Clark isn’t kidding. Thumb-tacked to the wall alongside aging flyers for past concerts are licenses for tax consulting--and Clark has a considerable clientele of musicians.

Not a lot of actual Circle Jerks fans take advantage of his services, though.

“Most punks really are on the short form,” he explains, quite straight-facedly.

Clark’s comment underscores the fact that the audience for “hardcore” punk--guitarist Greg Hetson smirkingly professes to prefer the term softcore-- has traditionally been a rather young one.

The Circle Jerks, who play tonight at Fender’s in Long Beach, are well aware of the split between fans from the early days--who now use their the old safety pins symbols of the punk movement mainly for diapers--and younger fans who may just be entering an aggressive music phase. That awareness comes into play in the booking process.

“We’ll play a show at the Olympic Auditorium, and a lot of people won’t go just because of the place that it is (too threatening an atmosphere) and because of all the kids,” says singer and co-founder Keith Morris. “So then we’ll turn around and do a show at the Club Lingerie or some other place that’s 21-and-over so we can play for the people that don’t go to the Olympic.”

The demographics for punk have been changing rapidly. One sees a bare minimum of Mohawks and slam-dancing at a Black Flag concert these days, due in part to that group’s penchant for expanding into jazz, psychedelic and heavy-metal textures. The Circle Jerks, who maintain a more traditional and straightforward brand of punk, have noticed a shift toward more collegiate-looking crowds as well.

“We get pretty much the same group of people that Black Flag gets,” says Morris, “but I don’t want to lose the kids. From what I’m seeing and hearing, Black Flag is losing a lot of those kids.”

Morris was in fact the lead singer for Black Flag until 1979, when he became disenchanted and left to form the Circle Jerks with Hetson. Since that time, the two groups have dominated the hardcore scene both locally and--to a degree--nationally, and the inevitable and constant comparisons have produced some enmity on both sides.

The differences are clear-cut, though. Black Flag’s music is inner-directed, exaggeratedly angst-ridden and--some would say--humorless. The Circle Jerks are considerably more outer-directed, with a satirical bent, though subtlety isn’t their forte--with titles on the new album like “Making the Bomb” and “Killing for Jesus,” you know you’re not going to be getting Randy Newman.

“I like Black Flag and what they do,” says Morris diplomatically, “just for the fact that they’re also doing what they want to do and are not under any pressure from people saying ‘How come you don’t play like this?’ We’re the same way--we just do what we do.

“Now, we’re more politically and socially conscious, but that’s just the way we are. It’s not like we write about love or anything like that, because I don’t think we really have it in us to do that.”