Larry Livermore (2015)

Few if any. We lead very different and separate existences, and I think it's best that way for all concerned.

A dream. Most of the time, anyway.

Chris Grivet is a true New Yorker and a prince among men.

We (by we I mean OG East Bay types) don't call it 924 Gilman. Just plain Gilman will do. I don't know if it's funny, but Operation Ivy thought I was crazy when I offered to put out their record. Years later Tim told me, "Man, we really wanted to put out a record, but we didn't want our friend Larry to lose all his money!" Also, you should have heard me screaming at Sweet Children that they were insane for wanting to change their name to Green Day.

That's really up to you. I'm not your conscience. But when you say the "master" cassette, do you mean the original recording, or the remastered one, which would have been digital?

Yes, that show was extraordinarily special, not just because the band played so well and because it was such a special occasion, but also because it was such a perfect return to 1989, with everyone (especially including Al, who hadn't picked up a drumstick in 17 years) playing their old roles so perfectly. It honestly felt more like being at Gilman than at some big commercial rock club.

Green Day were one of the easiest bands I ever worked with, even when they were still teenagers. They basically took care of everything (well, not the album art; we had to do that), but they'd just come around one day, hand me a tape, and say, "Oh yeah, we made a record, here it is." That's how easy.

Few if any bands were "banned." Gilman had a rule that bands affiliated with major labels couldn't play there, but that's not the same as being banned for bad behavior, it was just club policy. The attitude was that there were plenty of clubs and venues for major label bands to play at, but very few for independent bands, so the Gilman members voted to keep it that way.

I've thought about starting a new label several times, but I just lie down until the feeling passes.

I think we all evolve as we get older in terms of the way we speak and express ourselves. Also, Tim has many voices, not just the one that people like to talk about. He's a very private man and a very gifted man who constantly surprises and amazes me.

Ha! It wouldn't be a Lookout Q&A without a "When's Downfall coming out?" question! I had to field that one so many times for so many years, but it's no longer in my hands.

Nice one, Jonny. You should not try to dance with or smoke your skittles, that's about as much as I know about that.

Well, to be honest, I just sort of bumbled my way into it, and it grew from there.

Gosh, that's really hard, because there were a lot. And especially hard, because the one band I most would have wanted to work with didn't start until after I left Lookout, and by that I mean the Weakerthans.

I did read it, and it contains some valuable information and insights, but it's a very different type of book than mine is.

I did graduate from Berkeley in 1992, just as Lookout was really taking off, and before the crazy people currently in power decided that only rich people needed an education. Tuition was still low enough in those days that I could pay my own way without having to take out loans, and that's the way it should still be today (and is in most civilized countries).

I've stayed in touch with all the members of Green Day over the years, but it wouldn't be appropriate to go into personal matters that involve other people besides myself.

We played that song at our first show ever, when Tre was 12 and Kain was 14. Most of our audience consisted of parents and relatives. They did not love the idea as much as you did.

Monsula were great and funny guys. And "Razors" was their best song. If they'd made a whole album sounding like that, they'd be even more legendary today than they are.

Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed that record! There were some great bands on there, some of whom have gone on considerably bigger things. I was asked to do another compilation in the same vein, but that time I was fully engaged in writing books, and I didn't feel like I had the time or energy to do it. Someone else will need to take my place in that department!

1) I did more or less just stumble into it. I was just putting out some very limited editions of mine and some friends' bands. I thought if I was lucky they might break even; I had no idea it would ever turn into some giant business enterprise.
2) Too much attention, too much pressure, weakness on my part, the desire to do something different. It wasn't that well thought out.
3) Very much so.
4) I believe in one vibration, one universe, and therefore, no aliens.
5) I suppose that depends on the state of your mind.

Well, despite pictures I had seen from outer space, I always wondered if the world was really as round as they said it was. I can now say, with some certainty, that it is. More importantly, I visited some countries, especially Russia and China, that American politicians and media types spout a lot of nonsense about without having the faintest idea what they are talking about. So I learned a lot, and one of the most surprising and humbling things I learned, is that in many ways American is rapidly becoming a rather backward country when compared with many of the countries in Europe and Asia. Something that, when I was growing up, I could have never imagined happening.

Take better notes and put everything up on Youtube.

A prince. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. But may he always rule boldly and forthrightly over the fiefdom of Astoria.

I'm not sure I know any champions. For example, the only sports team I support is Fulham FC.

It's Spy Rock, not Sky Rock, Connor (it is Connor, right?). The new book is also very personal, though maybe not quite so much as Spy Rock Memories, because it involves so many other people and bands. But mainly, yeah, it's about my experiences and evolution at the center of the Lookout maelstrom.

The contracts I had with all the bands were that if Lookout ever failed to pay them what was due them, after six months they could take their records and go. Once Lookout started falling behind on royalties (I'm not sure exactly when that happened, probably around 2000), some bands took advantage of that proviso and left quickly, while others stuck around in hopes that the label would get things together again.

I didn't have any involvement with that book except that I answered a few questions from the publisher just before it came out. There are some mistakes and misperceptions in the book, probably because many of the major players at Lookout didn't participate, but I couldn't cite one "major" one. Unless maybe the author's math when he tries to calculate how much money Lookout made and/or lost.

I'm not only not involved, but there is nothing to be involved with. Lookout Records ceased to exist several years ago (and I myself left 18 years ago), so all the records now belong to the artists who made them, and they're free to do whatever they want with them.

The short answer is that you should read Spy Rock Memories, because I talk about that a lot. The slightly longer answer is that I was sick of civilization and decided I needed to go off into the wilderness and start my own. Yes, I was somewhat muddle-headed at the time.

Oh, and how did my business experience change the way I viewed people? Well, somebody (I think maybe Billy Wilder) once said "I learned a lot about human nature during my years in Hollywood, none of it good." Fortunately, my experience was a lot better than that, while still leaving quite a bit to be desired. 20-20 hindsight and all that, but basically, I still have a pretty high opinion of people in general. Not always in particular, however.

My relationship with Tim Yohannan was pretty complex, and I talk about it quite a bit in the new book. Much of what happened at Gilman and in the East Bay wouldn't have happened without him, and he shaped not just the local but the international punk scene for many years to come, but he also had a few tragic flaws - as of course, do most noteworthy people.

Of course it could, but it would probably look so different that most people wouldn't recognize the similarities.

Isocracy IS a funny story. From start to finish. But my favorite Isocracy adventure involves me more than them: we were riding around the East Bay while I was interviewing them for MRR and they got all excited when we passed this one house. "That's Metallica's house!" they said, and I was like, "What's Metallica?"

When I started there, tuition was $600 a year. By the time I graduated they were raising it to $2,000, and boy was I griping! I think it's somewhere between 12 and 16 thousand now, and they have the nerve to send me begging letters every couple weeks.

In terms of how record distribution worked back then, complain as we might, it was truly a golden age compared with now. Not that there aren't advantages to being able to put your own music up on the internet and (potentially) reach millions, but it's a very different experience. Put in context, though, the means of transmitting music (or information in general) is constantly changing and evolving, and no doubt will continue to do so.

If by "good" you mean a bear destroying part of my house and me going after him with a shotgun, yes, most definitely.

I don't think we should regret the past, nor should we wish to shut the door on it. It's both a treasure that we mine for wisdom and a foundation on which we build our future lives. My next book, which I start writing later this month, will bring me up to the present day, and then I plan on taking a whole new direction in my writing.

I do get asked this quite often, but it's kind of like asking a parent which of their children is their favorite. Even if they do have one, they wouldn't admit it in front of the others. The fact is, though, that i like - and love - different bands for different reasons. Some because they made history and transformed the whole music scene, others that you might have never heard of, but who perfectly crystallized a place or moment in time that might otherwise have been forgotten. As for bands I wish I would have put out on Lookout, there are several, but I guess in a way I'm sorriest that Rancid felt the need to leave for Epitaph (though at the same time I'm happy for all the success they've enjoyed there!).

I wasn't in the studio when they recorded 39/Smooth, so the first time I heard it was on tape. I felt like it perfectly captured the way the band was at the time, which was awesome. I always assumed that Green Day had the potential to be massive - maybe even bigger than they ultimately became - so the events of 1994 didn't come as so much of a surprise to me as they did to some others. The last time I saw them was at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the pre-show a few days earlier. They weren't bad! Especially watching them play with the two surviving Beatles! That was pretty surreal, because the first time I ever saw Green Day, I immediately said to myself "I think this band could be as big as the Beatles." And here they were playing with them!

Way more out in the wilderness, but yes, there were some similarities in our stories. So far, at least, mine has turned out a little happier. I did spend a memorable week or two in 1971 hiding out in the desert near Albuquerque. Thankfully nobody was shooting at me.

Yes. Head up Spy Rock way and you'll find many examples of both.

Not if I have anything to say about it!

I'm very much looking forward to Grant's book about the Smugglers. His blog accounts of Smugglers shows and tours were always both enlightening and hilarious. Always looking forward to the definitive Hextalls memoir. When is that coming out?

Growing up in Detroit when I did, punk rock was probably an inevitability. The first time I got called a punk was in 1957 when I wasn't quite 10 years old but already had a mohawk. The MC5 grew up in the same neighborhood as me. Just being from Detroit gives you the kind of attitude that punk is the perfect outlet for. So my fate was probably already set in motion by the first time I saw the MC5, which I think was in the summer of 1965.

The answer to the previous question that I just finished typing touches on it: when that kid pushed me off the sidewalk in 1957 and said, "Get out of my way, punk," I realized already that some changes needed to be made.

That's a totally abstract question, since the likelihood of it happening is somewhere between zilch and zero, but of course I'd do anything within reason that Green Day asked me to if I thought I could be of use to them. But I don't anticipate their going back to an indie label and only playing small clubs. Though I guess you never know!

I wouldn't mind if the Beatles came back to life and played a show in my living room.

I don't have a single favorite show, but a few of my most memorable ones are:
Supremes at the Michigan State Fairgrounds, 1965
MC5 on a tennis court (battle of the bands) in Downriver Detroit, 1965
Rolling Stones and the Standells at Cobo Hall, 1966
Ramones at UC Berkeley Student Union, 1980
Go-Gos at the Old Waldorf, San Francisco, 1980
Operation Ivy at Gilman Street, 1987
Sweet Children/Green Day in a cabin in the mountains, 1988

I lived in Fairfax (up on Redwood) for four years before I went off into the wilderness. Spent most of that time looking for a drummer and bassist, and found both of them once I arrived on Spy Rock.

Stories of crazed pot growers are all but limitless. One group of them threatened to burn my house down if I didn't stop publishing the Iron Peak Lookout, which was an early version of Lookout magazine.

I thought I was just leaving temporarily so I could finish my college degree and get a teaching credential. Somehow I never made it back.

Both times? You think I only got in trouble twice? It was actually pretty constant, and involved parents, teachers, administrators, neighbors, friends, lovers, and most notably, the law.

Success has many fathers, failure is an orphan, as the saying goes. As I write in the book, I ultimately have to accept the biggest share of the responsibility myself, especially with regard to the way I left. And while of course I'd like to believe the label would have continued to thrive if I'd stayed around, I'm by no means certain that would have been the case.

Once while I was at Berkeley and taking a climatology class, I wrote a letter about climate change that was published in the Wall Street Journal and people made kind of a deal about that. Lawrence Livermore is a pen/punk name that originated back in the 70s when I wrote a science fiction novel about a nuclear accident at the nuclear laboratory of that name.