Greg Ginn’s Black Flag Hits The Oriental Hard

Written by Sandisz Thieme

For a band founded in 1976, Black Flag brought a whole lot of energy to Denver last Wednesday night. Honestly, the surprise goes to Greg Ginn, 65-year-old guitarist and sole original band member, who came out and punched a hole in the Oriental Theater with a fury equal the band’s legendary touring history from more than three decades ago. Could be because he anchored a trio of players that weren’t much older than toddlers when Black Flag broke up the first time, honestly – but so what? Massive respect to Ginn for doing so much more than just phoning it in.

Greg Ginn anchored a trio of players that weren’t much older than toddlers when Black Flag broke up the first time…

But Black Flag wasn’t the only group of punks that brought raw, untapped, destructive energy to the quaint(ish) Highlands venue. A pumped-up crowd came out in full arm-and-leg-flailing-force, ready to destroy with even more of that fury they’d heard of in Punk Rock bedtime stories. The years of playing multiple gigs – in multiple towns – on the same night. Tales about playing an entire set, breaking down by themselves and loading a van to hit the road for the next gig – while the next gig’s opener was wrapping up a set. Then hitting the road for another town with just enough cash from that one night of gigs to get the van and their equipment – and themselves – to the next ones, just to do it all over again. It’s a wonder Ginn didn’t look even more road-worn than he did.

The pit was almost the perfect metaphor for the state of the band: mostly youngsters like me who found the band through Tony Hawk’s various games – or something like that – not even in existence when Panic (the band that was before Black Flag) started, alongside a good, healthy mix of grey-haired codgers. They – just like Ginn – blended well with the young punks, using their entire bodies like worn and battered wrecking balls they are, and teaching a few lessons along the way.

For my money, their sick version of “Slip It In” made the night …

The band played a solid, fast, and fun set, proving that waiting more than five years (since their most recent live foray) was definitely worth it. For my money, their sick version of “Slip It In” made the night, but hearing songs like “Depression,” “Jealous Again,” “Black Coffee,” “Six Pack,’ and “Rise Above” – songs I’ve only ever heard from my earbuds or when other bands cover them – felt absolutely right. And, of course, screaming all the words of “T.V. Party” along with all the kids and coots was a dream come true.

Woefully aware of the fact that this may very well be the last tour for a band so old, so important, and so storied, the entire crowd poured their guts out for their potential final appearance. No doubt many were there because what Black Flag was in the past. In some cases, this was surely among the last, best opportunities left to show up for a formative, classic punk band that helped form the landscape that is punk today.

P.S. quick shout-out to the moshpit attendees, from the man in the leg brace to the Norse God lookin’ mother fu**ers to the kids just trying to have a good time in the pit, all of whom came out with no intention to cause actual pain and/or injury to other attendees. Just to have fun and celebrate a legendary band they loved. 

And thank you, Black Flag – and your various fans, new and old – for showing us how it’s done. Again.