Elise Thompson

One day around 1976, I was hanging out in my bedroom when my brother, who was visiting from college, came in and glared at my stereo. It was blasting Led Zeppelin on KMET. He said one word, “No,” and turned the dial to KROQ. I left it where he set it, and started listening to the Ramones, Patti Smith, and Rodney on the ROQ. In 1980 my brother asked my mom if he could take me to see the Dead Kennedys at the Fleetwood. She was extremely bothered by their name and said no. Maybe he was joking, maybe the Fleetwood wasn’t all ages. But I am still mad about it.

By the time I got to high school that same year, my musical tastes were firmly entrenched. There were a few punks in the senior class at my Catholic school, and they tolerated me even though I was a freshman, because I had an encyclopedic knowledge of David Bowie. The most imposing figure, Christian, performed the Sex Pistol’s “Bodies” with great ferocity in the senior talent show. It caused complete mayhem, freaking out all of the nuns, and I felt like it was the greatest moment of my life.

There was also a girl with blue hair who rode my bus and got off at the same stop. I would stare at her and she would give me very threatening looks. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t thinking she was a freak, that she was awesome and I wanted to be her best friend. But I knew she would beat me up if I talked to her. Years later, Angee and I would be best friends, until we got into that long-ago predicted fist fight. But Freshman year I wasn’t in the club yet.

I had a punk rock boyfriend, but mostly went to Rocky Horror with him. He was part of the cast that acts out the movie in the front of the theater. Another midnight movie I went to see was Dance Craze, but when I discovered the Punk Rock Movie playing in the theater next door, I stayed. I was definitely not a mod. We were one of the first families to have cable, and I started watching Night Flight obsessively. The Decline of Western Civilization, New Wave Theater, The Harder they Come, Andy Warhol’s movies, Urgh! a Music War, Pink Flamingos, and Rude Boy were all big influences. Meanwhile, HBO was showing A Clockwork Orange, Tommy, and Quadrophenia. While not all of these films have punk music as a subject, they undeniably helped shape my punk rock attitude.

Then my friend Debbie, who was in my grade, went punk and started inviting me to shows. My first show was Circle One and Channel 3 in 1981, followed by The Subhumans, Social Distortion, Youth Brigade and Saccharine Trust a few months later. I had not committed to cutting my surfer hair yet, so Debbie’s friend, Anna, would tease my hair into a giant rat’s nest and add a bunch of plastic spiders. One night walking from the car to the gig, a cop said threateningly, “I smell hair burning tonight.” But no one ever bothered me; they left me alone. Debbie hung out at a place called the Hawthorne House, and we would go out with maybe 10 people stuffed in a van. Later I learned several of the Hawthorne House guys were in the Circle One gang. Now, looking back, I remember them writing Circle One on my T-shirt with a Sharpee and constantly talking about the “FAM-i-LEEEE.” I realize that we were probably hanging out with the Circle One gang back then. No wonder people left us alone.

“Black Flag member Dez Cadena went to my elementary school, and was one of my mom’s favorite kids when she volunteered at the hot lunch.”

Through Anna I met the guys in Anti, and at their rehearsals we met Artistic Decline. Living in the South Bay, Redd Kross and Black Flag played backyard parties. I was very lucky to be around at that time. I remember my mom crying and begging me not to go see Black Flag because a lady at her work told her that they cut themselves with razor blades onstage. What neither of us knew was that Black Flag member Dez Cadena went to my elementary school, and was one of my mom’s favorite kids when she volunteered at the hot lunch. Maybe that would have reassured her.

Around the time I discovered punk gigs, I also discovered drinking, drugs, and staying out all night. I was constantly in trouble at school for the color of my hair, torn stockings and multiple earrings. I also experienced some trauma sophomore year, which, combined with Catholicism’s hypocrisy, homophobia, and the whole school’s hard-core Reagan worship, made me start ditching and stop doing homework. As a result, I was on restriction almost constantly for two years, missing an untold number of awesome shows.

Redondo Beach had a big punk/art/poetry scene, and I got involved, starting a fanzine with Colleen Pancake called alternately, “The Blessing” and “The Curse” – Monthly. Cool bands played at the Pancake house, bands with names I would be cancelled for even mentioning now. Best of all, most activities were happening during the daytime, when I was allowed to go out, and I easily made it home by curfew. I had a few friends who were older punks, and they turned me on to obscure English bands and Goth. They also drove me to cool shows and made sure I got home safely when I snuck out the back door.

When I graduated High School, I started following Redd Kross, the Alley Cats, Descendants, Lawndale, the Minutemen, and pretty much anyone else on SST records. When hardcore died, I kept going to gigs to see the SST band members’ new bands, fIREHOSE, The Mecolodiacs, DC3, Painted Willie, and Gone. I have never stopped going to gigs. I still go see the same musicians that I saw play when I was 15.

When they painted the punk rock mural in Hermosa Beach a few years ago, I pointed it out to my mom and said, “See? You thought we were just troublemakers, but we were making history.”

In the closest thing to a concession I ever heard, she replied, “Well, how was I to know?”

Other noteworthy factos about Elise: I interviewed Overkill for my High School newspaper.

I was in several Dave Markey shorts and as an extra in Love Dolls Superstar

I accidentally burned Mick Ronson with a cigarette, insulted Steve Jones, mocked Lee Ving to his face, threatened to set Lemmy Kilmister on fire, and had a standoff with Kim Fowley where we held an icepick (him) and an X-acto knife (me) to each other’s jugulars (He started it).

These days, Elise lives in Burbank, California with her drummer husband and nonmusical cat. She works as a Sign Language interpreter and runs a blog, The LA Beat, for which she reviews bands and restaurants and is an enthusiastic concert photographer.

Check out Elise’s websites here: www.thelosangelesbeat.com and www.kikimaraschino.com @TheLABeat

This painting was done on cold press paper using watercolor, gouache, ink, and acrylic. 8″x10″.

SSilk 2026