BRILL BUILDING #3 by Ian Brill
Minor Threat's "Filler"
In middle school, 7th grade and around there, was when I figured out that most people are wrong. After my parent's divorce and being thrown out of a Catholic private school, I knew that anyone who held themselves up to know what's right had a pretty good idea that they're really wrong. I knew that what MTV and KROQ played was crap, designed to keep kids like me in their sponsor's latest clothing lines. I had no use for uniforms of any kind after St. Paschal's, so old Izods and no-name trousers were what fitted me. I may have looked like a nerd, but I was my own nerd.
My friends figured out, from their respective family situations, that everything else is equally fucked, so why fit in? It would be great to say that our peers ostracized us, but we got along just as well as anybody else with the "cool" kids, probably because we could supply them with weed. Since No Doubt, Bush and Alanis Morissette were not for us we worshiped at the altar that was Epitaph records. Rancid and the Offspring already had hits, and when you bought "...And Out Came the Wolves" or "Smash" you got a fold-out catalog telling one and all of the other bands out there. Before we knew it we were all about Pennywise, NOFX and Bad Religion (whose logo of a cross in a "no smoking" type sign held particular reverence).
We became aware that punk rock was around before Epitaph records when we found out that some of the guys in Rancid were in a band called Operation Ivy. My friend Ryan, with the help of that always useful music guru of an older brother, had the records of punk rock bands that were around in the 80's. I couldn't believe it, there were people creating music and a lifestyle that I myself subscribed to back when I was two years old!
Ryan let me borrow his copy of the first Minor Threat record. I had never really played records before; the family LP player hadn't been used in a while. When I saw Ryan come out of his house with a big green album cover I wondered, "How the hell am I going to sneak this big thing past my mom?" It was easier to do than I thought since no one else gave a damn about the record player and headphones were readily available. When I got home, I had to teach myself how to use this old-time contraption. While I was being a "scientist" I noticed the image on the album cover. It was a bald-headed guy sitting on the stairs, arms crossed on top of his knees and face down in his arms. It was the rebellious attitude tinged with sadness that all my friends and myself were living through. Suddenly I had no time to contemplate my place in the world when I heard that first track.
It started with the growl of Lyle Reslar's guitar and the rumbling of Jeff Nelson's drums. Then came out the fastest song in the world, or so I thought then. Ian MacKeye (hey, my name's Ian!) screamed out lyrics like an operatic drill sergeant. The chorus was just screaming the word "FILLER!" It was music that told you what to do, and in fine contradictory rock 'n' roll tradition, what it told you to do was be yourself. The song is only a minute and a half long, but at the end I was seduced. For the song's coda Preslar got away from just quick chord changes to lead fills that sound like his guitar was being put through a paper shredder. I didn't know it was possible to play guitar that way, but I wanted to. I wanted to destroy everything after hearing that record, but only to let a new and fair world grow in its place.
Purchase Minor Threat's Discography from Amazon.com to hear "Filler" and other greats.