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The punk bands survived, the new wave ones did not. Which is exactly the opposite of what one would have thought back then. You’d think the more left field, the less mainstream, the shorter the lifespan. But it turned out 20/20 and the Pop and the Know and the Kats…  The list goes on and on of skinny tie bands known by all back then, but the only one that really broke through was the Knack, and everybody hated them for it. Then again, as big as “My Sharona” was, there was “Good Girls Don’t” and not a whole hell of a lot more.

So if you were paying attention back then, you knew about Madame Wong’s, you knew about the Hong Kong Café, you knew about the Masque, because the story was not only delineated in the “L.A. Weekly,” but in the L.A. “Times” too.

Oh that’s right, the Go-Go’s broke, but what you’ve got to know is they were hiding in plain sight, the “Times” kept asking why they didn’t have a record deal. It wasn’t like they were playing in Oshkosh, they were in the recording capital of the world, and no one was interested, until Miles Copeland signed them, an outsider if there ever was one.

That’s one thing that’s been lost today, the outsider, on both the business and artistic side. There used to be these larger than life figures, who seemed to bend the world to their will. They worked the record company, as opposed to vice versa, they were fierce advocates for their acts. As for the live business… There were many fiefdoms. Frank Barsalona laid a bit of structure on the business, you took this act to get that, and you didn’t poach someone else’s territory, but it was a club, based on loyalty, and acts that did poorly gave money back, nearly unheard of today, because they wanted the promoter to hire them again in the future, they didn’t want the promoter to go broke. No one gives money back to Live Nation, it’s a public company.

And the label titans came and went, except for Mo Ostin. And they were handsomely paid, but it was clear the musicians were the stars, they made more and controlled the business.

Still, many felt the business was too controlled. Had become overblown, far from the garden the Beatles nurtured.

Then came the Ramones.

Nearly completely stiff. But you were aware of them, because it was a small world, everybody was paying attention, and music was a religion in a way it is not today, you listened to the radio, bought records, went to shows and read everything you could get your hands on. You saw the first two Ramones albums in the bins, but chances are you didn’t know anybody who owned them, and they certainly didn’t play them on the radio. Actually, by time the Hong Kong Café opened its doors to punks, one can say the Ramones had changed direction. 1977’s “Rocket to Russia” had “Rockaway Beach,” which sounded more like sixties surf rock than what was being played at the Masque. And 1978’s “Road to Ruin” had a cover of “Needles and Pins,” in search of a hit. Then again, that was the same album with “I Wanna Be Sedated.”

Not that the Ramones had no impact. They talk about the loners and outcasts hearing Patti Smith and forming bands, it seemed like even more were formed in the wake of the Ramones. And they were bands, no one was sitting in their bedroom cutting a record by themselves. You had to go out for the action, you couldn’t sit at home and surf the web, there was a scene. And the scenesters were the social media influencers of the day, sans the pay. Yes, you had an identity, and you displayed it at the show, and you were seen again and again, people knew who you were, until the era passed.

So just like with the blues before, punk started in the U.S., but it really took hold in the U.K., which then fed the sound back to us. There were endless U.K. punk bands. But fashion was a component of the scene. Attitude was over the top. Whereas the punks in L.A…really seemed to be living the life. And one can say the scene died with Darby Crash. It was all a lark until it wasn’t.

And the stunning thing is how brief the window was.

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Sure you went to the Forum to see the big acts, the shows were hyped all over KMET and KLOS, they were cultural rites. But even more you went to the clubs, to check out the new acts, you wanted to see them, needed to see them before they got big.

And there were constantly new clubs. And as “classy” as the Roxy was, as venerated as the Troubadour was, many were just holes in the wall, like Club 88, not far from where I lived. You mean bands are playing in that converted strip club? Yes. And you felt part of it. You knew what was going on even if you didn’t go, because of the ads. You saw who was playing. And there were columnists raving until you decided to partake.

Certainly after the Knack hit, major labels scooped up new wave acts. But the L.A. punk bands? They were positively independent. Their records were released by labels you never heard of before. It was an outsider system. That sustained. Tom Waits going from Asylum to Epitaph? Unfathomable. And there was SST and Slash and…

It was all very brief.

So what killed the L.A. punk scene?

You could say it was MTV in 1981. Suddenly acts were bigger than ever before, and playing live was nowhere near as important as how good your video was. Furthermore, how you looked was important. And so many of those in the punk scene were not so good-looking. They had amazing clothes, in some cases amazing legends, but no one who was part of the starmaking machinery wanted anything to do with them.

And you wondered where they all went. How they survived.

This was not Bruce Springsteen, never having a day job. Most had day jobs in order to survive. And most were not college graduates, this was their life, and when it was over, they had to find a new source of income. Phranc ultimately sold Tupperware.

And you continued to read about Phranc, she was great at getting attention, and a few were, but most of them faded into the woodwork, but some of them are in this movie.

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I was turned off at first, because of some inaccuracies in the dates. You can say whatever you want in a movie and it becomes the authoritative document, even if it’s untrue. But if you lived through the era, oftentimes you know it was different.

But in this case I don’t want to quibble, because very soon the film locked into the truth.

Chinatown was dead. No one went there. First and foremost it was downtown, which was barren, especially after dark.

So the fact that there was music in Chinatown? Quite a novelty. Music at a Chinese restaurant?

And this was when there was no wall between the promoters and the performers and the public. Sure, the stars might have had billboards on the Strip, but everybody else was completely accessible if you went to the gig, if you hung out.

Esther Wong was always around, with a scowl on her face. And even though they pooh-pooh Wong’s West in the film, it had a pretty long run as the showcase club long after Chinatown was dead. One can’t say it was cool, but that’s where bands played, from Elvis Costello to the unknowns. That’s where I saw David Geffen checking out John Hiatt, being convinced to sign him.

And being signed was everything. You needed the money, the push. Making records was expensive, getting them distributed was nearly impossible if you weren’t with a major. That was the goal. But the punks realized they would never be accepted and did it themselves.

And the funny thing about punk is despite the closing of the venues in this movie, the music had a very long life. If you were around in the late seventies you were stunned when Nirvana became the biggest band in the land in the nineties. Whodathunk?

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Now in truth most scenes are very short. They might be impactful, but their heyday is brief. Once again, I’d love to know where all the attendees went, those consumed with their outfits, their appearance, because without them there was no scene.

And if you were in the mosh pit you could get hurt. But most people had never heard of a mosh pit, never mind been in one. Took time for the phenomenon to spread.

Yet in truth, we haven’t had a new scene in music for a long time, since the heyday of Napster. Or maybe today there are so many scenes and none of them break through big, after all Top 40 is now a niche.

And if you’re making music today there’s a good chance you were influenced by Mariah Carey and Christina Aguilera, whereas everybody in this movie knew every lick of the Beatles and Stones records. They didn’t want to emulate their heroes, they wanted to tear them down. They thought the mainstream had become too precious, that most music was bogus.

And I was actually at the Dwight Twilley gig at Madame Wong’s mentioned in the movie. Then again, I don’t remember the prank. But there were two shows that night, and I went to the early one. Got there ninety minutes before, to be close, that’s what you did.

And we all knew Dwight Twilley from “I’m on Fire.” An infectious record which I heard on KROQ.

KROQ. It was the last free-format radio station in Los Angeles. Not the KROQ of today, not Top 40 of the alternative. The signal was weak and it was a club, either you listened or you didn’t. And if you did you knew records by heart that those who never made it up the dial to 106.7 had never heard.

But that was the power of radio.

Dwight was signed by Clive Davis. But it never took. And recently Dwight Twilley died. Tragic, then again vocalist Phil Seymour, Twilley’s original partner, died at 41, of cancer, not misadventure, and unless you were around back then, unless you bought the records, and I certainly bought the first, hungering for more of that sound, you have no idea who he was.

But there was an era when the minor was major. When the scene had shifted from New York to L.A. The sunshine and the weather made it easier to schlep your equipment, to live, and tradition was nonexistent in California, you could make it up as you went.

And today you can still see the Circle Jerks. And X. They took the road less taken and it turned out to go on forever.

Unlike the clubs.

The story is here. It’s brief and interesting, well done. 

You should watch “Chinatown Punk Wars.”