The Year In Review: O.C. rock broke out from behind the Orange Curtain : Punks Hit Pay Dirt; Oldtimers Cleaned Up

1994 was the year when young music fans lifted scruffy punk rockers out of the underground and into the rock ‘n’ roll winner’s circle, while glitzy icons of an earlier rock era milked the punk-loving kids’ boomer parents for unprecedented amounts of cash.

Orange County music enthusiasts had ringside seats for both developments.

A ringside seat--or any good seat, for that matter--became awfully expensive as a parade of marquee names trouped to O.C. commanding ticket prices more than triple what the ceiling had been just five years before, back when the local economy was actually good.

The Eagles, Rod Stewart, Janet Jackson and Bette Midler broke the previously unapproached $100 barrier for prime seats. Barbra Streisand eclipsed them all, charging $350 and $125 for her stand at The Pond of Anaheim. She did leave a few nosebleed seats at the bargain price of $50.

Scoring two top-scale tickets to Babs, Janet, Bette, Rod and the Eagles would have cost $1,535--plus Ticketmaster fees.

The justification for such high prices was that the performances, in some cases, were a rarity (Streisand, Eagles) and that superstar attractions were simply claiming for themselves part of the windfall that had long been going to scalpers, who charge what the market will bear. But the $100 orchestra ticket and the $50 or $75 upper-tier seat meant that a concert was now a luxury beyond the reach of, or at least an arrogant claim upon, people with modest entertainment budgets.

A record-setting buyers’ frenzy was touched off when tickets for Streisand’s first tour in almost 30 years went on sale in March. Many purchasers bought extra tickets for her six shows at The Pond, thinking they could be scalped later for a sweet return. But as Streisand’s spring arrival neared, the market proved lukewarm, and newspaper classified sections were well-stocked with ads for tickets being hawked at face value.

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Maybe it was an omen. By year’s end, the hazards of financial speculation would become all too clear to Orange Countians. If you looked at the county’s fiscal woes from a pop music perspective, some rich, but sour, ironies began to unfold.

The unruly Orange County punk movement had always taken a skeptical, if not downright hostile, stance toward the county’s prevailing values of acquisitiveness and status-conscious suburban living. In turn, municipalities obsessed with the suburban ideal of peace and quiet had sometimes gone out of their way to stifle venues catering to punk and alternative music. It was almost poetic justice that punk’s fortunes and status should zoom during the same year that official Orange County watched its credit and credibility sink.

Engineering the punk breakthrough were the Offspring, a band that came out of nowhere if you were looking at the charts, but out of a definite somewhere if you had watched the band’s early development and listened to its music for key influences.

That somewhere was unquestionably Orange County. Hailing from Cypress and Garden Grove, the four band members had taken much of their initial inspiration from an early ‘80s O.C. punk scene that placed great value on melody as well as typical punk aggression.

With their third album, “Smash,” the Offspring came up with a full CD’s worth of memorable hooks and exciting, varied arrangements, never sacrificing a tough attack or a sardonic, aggressively questioning attitude.

In December, 1993, the Offspring, never a big deal on the local scene, had played what was then their biggest headlining show ever in Orange County, to 150 fans at the now-defunct 8 1/2 Club in Fullerton. By June, with their song “Come Out and Play” a hit on alternative rock radio and MTV, they were leaping their way through a short but triumphant set for 15,000 enthusiastic fans during the daylong KROQ “Weenie Roast” benefit at Irvine Meadows.

As the year went on, singer-songwriter Bryan (Dexter) Holland’s flying blond braids became one of the most common sights an MTV viewer could behold. The year ended with “Smash” sales topping 3 million in the United States, 4 million worldwide, and with the Offspring still ensconced in the Top 10 on the Billboard magazine albums chart. The record’s peak chart position, No. 4, tied it with the previous high for an O.C. pop album, the Righteous Brothers’ 1965 collection, “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin.’ ”

Remarkably, the Offspring recorded for a small independent company, the Los Angeles punk rock label, Epitaph. Sales of “Smash” were unprecedented for a punk band on an independent label and were exceeded in punk rock history only by “Dookie,” the major label release by fellow 1994 punk debutantes Green Day.

The Offspring’s members didn’t forget their origins, giving credit in interviews and on stage to such Orange County punk predecessors as T.S.O.L., the Vandals, Agent Orange and the Adolescents. Another local punk band, Guttermouth, got a boost when the Offspring brought it on tour as an opening act, then released Guttermouth’s CD on Nitro Records, a new label started by Holland and Offspring bassist Greg Kriesel. In July, T.S.O.L. alumni Jack Grisham and Ron Emory returned to the stage after a long layoff in a guest appearance with the Offspring at the Hollywood Palladium. They soon landed a deal with Epitaph for their new band, Joykiller. The Vandals also became a hot property, courted by big labels that previously would have sniffed at them.

Others not directly touched by the Offspring had their hopes raised by the realization that, if still far from the mythical “next Seattle” (i.e. a feeding trough for major label scouts brandishing fat contracts), Orange County was at last considered a pretty cool address for a band to have. The “Orange Curtain” had finally begun to part, and the outside world (starting with music moguls just up the freeway) was becoming more aware of a 15-year local legacy of strong punk and alternative music that had been hidden behind its home county’s stereotype as a monolithic, white-bread bastion of comfortable conformity.

Rather than maximize profits, young bands such as the Offspring and Stone Temple Pilots (the latter of whom had downplayed their Huntington Beach connections when they emerged in 1992, prior to the crack in the curtain) adhered to the punk-alternative ethic of keeping concert prices reasonable for fans, who often were struggling with rent, tuition and car payments, or working after-school jobs at the minimum wage.

Both played Orange County shows for less than $20 a ticket when they could easily have charged at least $5 or $10 more. Country stars such as George Strait also tended to honor their music’s working-class traditions and not soak the paying customers.

Such moderation, however, was not a consideration for most acts playing the county’s two big venues--The Pond and Irvine Meadows. But pricey attractions such as Streisand and Stewart at The Pond and the Eagles, Steely Dan and Janet Jackson at Irvine were not lacking for takers, and big-venue pop rebounded somewhat in ’94 after a dismal 1993.

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In ‘93, four big venues--Irvine Meadows, the Pacific Amphitheatre, Anaheim Stadium and the newly opened Pond--had staged a total of just 48 musical events, including the Pacific Symphony’s summer season at Irvine. In ‘94, the Pacific was out of commission as its new owner, the Orange County Fair, sought a new concert promoter. Anaheim Stadium was leapfrogged by the year’s big stadium attractions, the Rolling Stones and Pink Floyd. But Irvine Meadows and The Pond staged a total of 58 shows--20 at the Pond and 38 at Irvine.

Ken Scher, executive vice president of Nederlander Concerts, The Pond’s exclusive promoter, said attendance at the arena’s shows totaled 241,000, or just more than 12,000 per concert. He said that 15 of the 20 dates were sellouts.

“We’re thrilled with the results for a first year,” said Scher, whose company began booking The Pond at the start of 1994. In 5 1/2 months of operation in 1993, the arena had attracted only six pop concerts.

Streisand’s six-show stand was The Pond schedule’s centerpiece and represented 30% of the total concert nights booked. But Scher pointed to a diverse roster of acts that included hard rock (Rush), pop-jazz (Kenny G), hip-hop (the “Budweiser Superfest” with R. Kelly and Warren G), country (including Strait and Alan Jackson) and Latino pop (Juan Gabriel). Stewart, with two shows, was the only performer besides Streisand to play multiple dates.

At Irvine Meadows, 38 dates drew about 370,000 people, for an average of just under 10,000 per show, according to Bob Geddes, the amphitheater’s managing partner. The Eagles led the way with a five-night stand that launched their comeback tour; Steely Dan and Jimmy Buffett each played two nights. Geddes said The Pond proved as formidable a bidding force in battles to woo talent as Irvine Meadows’ out-of-commission traditional rival, the Pacific Amphitheatre, had been.

“They did bid some fairly extraordinary dollars for some of the acts they got,” he said.

Although Irvine had the great outdoors to itself in Orange County for the first time since the Pacific opened in 1983, Geddes said the Glen Helen Blockbuster Pavilion in neighboring San Bernardino County intruded on what might otherwise have been a complete bonanza. The Pavilion, which opened in 1993, had a 21-show season; if it hadn’t been a factor, Geddes said, Irvine Meadows could have landed as many as 10 additional dates.

At year’s end, word was circulating in the music industry that Geddes and another Irvine Meadows partner, record magnate Irving Azoff, were trying to negotiate a merger between Irvine Meadows and the Blockbuster Pavilion.

Geddes wouldn’t confirm that, but he did say that Avalon Attractions, which promotes shows at Irvine Meadows, was involved in year-end negotiations that could lead to the reopening of the Celebrity Theatre in Anaheim. The 2,800-seat theater-in-the-round was dark for virtually the entire year as its longtime operator, Edward Haddad, saw his company fall into bankruptcy and lose its lease.

The Pacific Amphitheatre appeared certain to reopen in 1995 under new management, as the Orange County Fair hired the Philadelphia-based Spectacor Management Group to run the Costa Mesa facility.

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On the club level, the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano rolled along with its varied run of touring acts, averaging about 18 shows a month as it completed its ninth year of dominance in the O.C. market. In December, owner Gary Folgner opened a second Orange County club, the spacious, well-appointed Galaxy Concert Theatre in Santa Ana.

Folgner’s company was in an expansive phase, adding another new acquisition in San Diego, the Coach House-San Diego, to go with the two Orange County venues and a fourth in Ventura. The Galaxy-Coach House combination gave Folgner a seemingly unshakable lock on the club-level market for most major pop attractions in Orange County.

High-profile country acts continued to stop at the Crazy Horse Steak House in Santa Ana, which was a hot venue even before it was cool to be country. In December, the Crazy Horse celebrated its 15th year of operation.

There was, however, a deep need for at least one more concert-caliber club in Orange County--a grass-roots venue catering to the punk and alternative bands that were most responsible for giving the county a name in the wider music world.

The late-1993 closing of Bogart’s, the Long Beach club that had been the hub of the O.C. grass-roots scene, remained a devastating loss. By year’s end, no equivalent club had emerged--one that could keep its overhead costs low enough to foster upcoming bands on the local scene, yet had the professional-caliber staging, sound and lights that would allow it to be a regular stop for hip, emerging touring acts not well-suited to the dinner-theater format of the Coach House and Galaxy.

The local scene for live alternative rock remained active despite the loss of Bogart’s. But it was diffuse activity, scattered among smaller, less well-equipped clubs that generally lacked the ambition, the promotional resources, or the means to achieve a magical meld of local bands and interesting barnstormers.

Club Mesa in Costa Mesa and Club 369 in Fullerton were the most stable alternative rock venues.

The tiny but lovingly programmed Linda’s Doll Hut in Anaheim and the Heritage Brewing Co. in Dana Point offered good schedules of roots rock and alternative music, with the occasional interesting out-of-town act included in the mix.

Old World in Huntington Beach and the Ice House in Fullerton catered to an all-ages audience of young ska and punk fans; the Ice House’s future was jeopardized by a Dec. 16 stabbing incident at a punk show that left police demanding assurances that the hall could prevent violence by beefing up security or toning down the attractions.

Two long-running venues--the Marquee in Westminster and Club 5902 (formerly Night Moves) in Huntington Beach--closed their doors, the Marquee a victim of the declining audience for heavy metal music, and Club 5902 succumbing to longstanding complaints about noise.

The year’s most unfortunate club casualty was Our House, a Costa Mesa coffeehouse that offered well-programmed alternative music in a cozy setting.

Once- or twice-a-week rock soirees such as the Firecracker Lounge in Anaheim, run by rocker Tom Dumont of the band No Doubt, and the Foothill in Signal Hill, presided over by former Bogart’s booker Steve Zepeda, gave bands and fans on the local scene some attractive options.

While nobody was keeping count, it was fairly obvious that ’94 was a record-setting year in terms of the numbers of records released by local performers.

Many O.C. bands took the do-it-yourself route, putting out cassettes and CDs on their own; others landed deals with such established independent labels as the Orange-based Doctor Dream and San Diego’s Cargo Records. Lethal Records emerged as a promising new player on the grass-roots punk and alternative scene, with its focus on bands from Long Beach and Orange County.

Hardly any of the local releases were on major labels. Most of the O.C. bands with major deals--Social Distortion, No Doubt, the Muffs, Water--spent the year writing, recording or waiting for the business wheels to grind.

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While the young punks made headlines, O.C.’s old guard of proven veterans held up admirably.

After the Offspring, Huntington Beach blues-rocker Walter Trout may have been the most visible Orange County pop figure of ‘94, although not exactly in the way he’d had in mind. Trout’s hopes for his first U.S. release, “Tellin’ Stories,” fell flat as marketing support from his label, Silvertone, proved scant.

But he did enjoy a long run on a nationally aired TV commercial for the Jenny Craig weight-loss plan: “I was beginning to feel like the blimp of the blues,” declared the guitar-slinging pitchman, who went on to tell viewers his tale of successful slimming. But with American success--and the chance to tour domestically--still eluding him, Trout and his band continued to ply Europe, where they have built a solid following over the past few years.

Strong releases from the James Harman Band, Robert Lucas, Junior Watson, Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys, Barrelhouse and Lee Rocker’s Big Blue made it a fertile year on the local roots-rock and blues scene.

It also was a good year for old O.C. surfer dudes: 57-year-old Dick Dale continued his midlife revival with “Unknown Territory,” his second album of guitar meltdown in two years, and followed it up with extensive touring. Dale’s 1962 surf classic, “Misirlou,” took a high-profile ride as the opening-credits music in the hit film “Pulp Fiction.”

The Chantays returned with “Next Set,” their first album in 30 years, and it was a model of dramatic sonic architecture in the classic surf-rock style. The Lively Ones’ song “Surf Rider” also made it onto the hot-selling “Pulp Fiction” soundtrack, and the band’s Del-Fi Records catalogue from 1963-64 was reissued.

The cream of the Orange County country scene, Chris Gaffney and Jann Browne, both found a recording home on the Swiss label Red Moon and made multiple performing visits to Europe.

Gaffney’s album, “Man of Somebody’s Dreams,” was a live sizzler recorded at his overseas debut in Zurich.

Browne’s “Count Me In” was one of the most engaging albums ever by a local artist. Helped by a superb cast of Southern California players, she remade herself from the honorable, tradition-minded but somewhat conservative contender for mainstream country acceptance that she had been, into a fiercely independent, convincingly gutsy yet utterly charming fountain of creativity.

The U.S. sales were 3 million-odd behind the Offspring’s, limited to however many albums she could haul back from Switzerland for her local fans. But signs were strong at year’s end that “Count Me In” would see a U.S. release in ’95 on a new label with major distribution being launched by Barbara Orbison, widow of Roy Orbison.

While 1994 was certainly the year for Orange County to hail the rise of young punks, Browne’s creative rebirth was a close-to-home reminder that surprising and wonderful things can happen past 40.