The Vandals
Peace Thru Vandalism
(Epitaph, 1982)

The story of how I came into possession of my original vinyl copy of Peace Thru Vandalism is perhaps the most interesting record acquisition story of my stupid white life. My friend Drew’s aunt met and started dating this guy from Texas on the internet. Texas Guy came to visit her in Florida (where we all lived at the time) and brought, like, nearly everything he owned. It was kind of a fishy deal. Suspicious, Drew’s aunt hired a private investigator, and it was quickly discovered that Mr. Right (Now) was wanted in his home state for, among other things, possession of child pornography. She confronted Master Criminal and he hightailed it outta her house so fast he ended up leaving the majority of his worldly possessions behind. Amongst the crap this gross dude had were some punk records, so Drew, knowing I was into that kind of thing, called me up.

”I think there are some bands here you like. Come take what you want.”

Come take I did, although not without some trepidation. This stuff had been in the hands of a kiddie porn enthusiast. I almost became nauseous just being in the same room as his stuff. Yet how could I ignore Peace Thru Vandalism, a record that by all outward appearances could have been a hilarious fictional creation used to service the plot of some forgotten 1980s sitcom? Oh no, the kids on Charles in Charge are getting into this wild rock band the Vandals, who sing songs like “Pirate’s Life” and “Anarchy Burger (Hold the Government)!” That latter entry was an endless source of amusement long before I managed to even hear the song once (I didn’t have a turntable at the time and wouldn’t get one for at least six months). It really didn’t even matter, though, if the damn tune was genius or hog shit. Anarchy burger? Hold the government? I’m smiling right now as I type this. There simply cannot be a more stereotypical suburban gutter punk rock song title from the decade when Eddie Murphy was still a hit.

“Anarchy Burger” did not disappoint when it finally assaulted my ears. The raucous two-minute explosion is Peace Thru Vandalism’s true diamond, a wild tribal punk pounding that boasts deliciously inept riffing and comically offensive lyrics delivered in a balls-to-the-wall caterwaul by stocky singer Steve Jensen (the original Stevo). Was SoCal punk ever more cringe-inducing than the opening lines of this song?

“Anarchy, kill a cat! / Shoot James Brady in the back! / Raise an army of rabid rats! / Beat your neighbor with a bat!”

That still stings, and I was only two years old when Reagan was shot.

Years later, “Anarchy Burger” would make an appearance in the most unlikely of places —the 2002 Vin Diesel film xXx. Amidst all the gratuitous explosions, corny one-liners, and Dario Argento’s hot-ass daughter was a scene in which Mr. Diesel and a swarthy piece of Euro Trash trade off lines from the most beloved song in the Vandals’ pre-Dave Quackenbush catalog. Just when you think something’s sacred, the guy from The Chronicles of Riddick comes along and fucks everything up.

But lo, there are five other trashy delights on this Vandals EP, all nearly as much fun as that final shit-kicker. “Wanna Be Manor” utilizes a dark chord progression and a slow increase in tempo to tell a scary tale of not-entirely-voluntary same sexcapades. “Urban Struggle” playfully imitates Morricone’s famous overture from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly before dealing with Stevo’s punk vs. cowboy identity crisis. “Pirate’s Life” unravels a memorable drug-heavy trip to Disneyland in which the line between reality and Pirates of the Caribbean becomes dangerously blurred (dig that sea shanty breakdown!). I suppose I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention “The Legend of Pat Brown”, a musical tribute to a notoriously drunken friend of the Vandals. That’s one of the few songs from this record that the Vandals still perform today in the version of the band that features original Vandals drummer/recreational bullfighter/former entertainment lawyer Joe Escalante on bass, percussive all-star Josh Freese on the skins, Oingo Boingo graduate Warren Fitzgerald on guitar, and the aforementioned Quackenbush on vocals.

I know what you’re thinking. Gee, a punk band that kept going with only one original member? I’m sure no one had a problem with that! To quote Kevin Spacey as heinous Superman foe Lex Luthor, WRON-GUH! According to founding Vandal axe man Jan Nils Ackermann and the late Jensen (who passed away in 2005), lil’ Joe Escalante falsely credited all the early Vandals tunes to himself circa 1990 and used his legal prowess throughout the decade to keep his one-time dudemeisters from getting any piece of the financial pie. Escalante’s side of the story is that his former band mates agreed to give up their stake in the band so they could play a reunion show as some kind of alternate universe Vandals featuring more than one original member. Not surprisingly, legal mud began flying all over the place; an undisclosed settlement eventually allowed Escalante to retain control of the Vandals catalog while songwriting credits reverted back to the whole group. Moral of this story: There is no such thing as punk brotherhood.

Thankfully, Peace Thru Vandalism lives on in the era of Fake Shemp Vandals Endorsed By Thick-Tongued Action Stars. This record—which today can most easily be found packaged with the band’s sophomore outing When in Rome Do as the Vandals—exists as a relic from a simpler time, a time when none of the Vandals could ever imagine being popular enough to play for US troops overseas (which they did) or the influence of their miniscule label Epitaph Records growing large enough to convince acid-throated troubadour Tom Waits to sign up for distribution (also true). There were no corporate sponsorship deals, precious Warped Tour slots, royalty checks, or Vin Diesel action movies to be lost back in those wild frontier days of 1982. With nothing at stake, the Vandals could be as crude and crazy and reckless as possible; no cow was too sacred (as evidenced by their vile, disgusting cover of Elvis Presley’s “Heartbreak Hotel”). Thus, Peace Thru Vandalism slaughtered as many heifers as it saw, serving up tasty/tasteless Anarchy Burgers to anyone hungry/crazy enough to join the party.

Yet as lowbrow as the original Vandals could be, there’s no arguing with their basic logic. To wit, the very line sold to xXx for some ungodly amount of money the boys like to brag about in concert these days:

“America stands for freedom, but if you think you’re free / Try walking into a deli and urinating on the cheese.”

I have, on numerous occasions, and trust me, none of the arresting officers let me stand behind my First Amendment rights. I can also assure you that the current incarnation of the Vandals hasn’t come close to authoring anything that bitingly honest or sharp since they first slipped on their checkered Vans in the mid-to-late ’80s and recruited a teenage drum whiz from Disneyland to be their drum god.

Listen: “Anarchy Burger” [at youtube.com]

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