The glory days of punk were over and so were they. With songs like “Slip It In” and “Black Coffee,” both sexist and inane, Black Flag appeared to be going through the motions and cashing in on their credibility from Jealous Again. This didn’t stop us from seeing them, though.
When they played the dirgy “Life is Pain,” Jay and I pushed to the side of the stage. Rollins was front and center, crouched down, naked except for running shorts. His long curly-hair hung in his face, wet from sweat; his body taught like a twisted rubber band. He was a very tense, little man.
He picked up an empty Coke can on the stage and ripped it half. Going to knees, he pushed the jagged edge of the can into his stomach, carving the flesh. As blood trickled down his stomach, eventually reaching the waistband of his shorts, the enthusiasm of the punks in front of him turned from excitement to disbelief. Jay and I had a clear shot of the scene from the side of the stage and were laughing at how these hardcore looking punks were appalled at his behavior.
One of them reached his hand out, in attempt to wrestle the can away from him. Rollins was in a near animal state and paid him no mention. A skinhead looking guy did the same, grabbing his wrist. Rollins ignored both of them, proving that life is really pain. It was high-dramatics at the punkest level and I was happy to have witnessed it. The song stopped and so did the ceremonial cutting. Rollins played the rest of the show with a bloody stomach. Fuckin’ punk!!
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