© 2015 by Todd Pound. Created with Wix.com


No One's Leaving

Pretty dang fascinating to watch fearful conservatism (apparently, the inevitable devolution of conservatism) paralyze both the UK and US in simultaneous ineptitude. Don't think it'll last. As evidence, I submit the greatest state in the union: California. From the late '80s to the mid-90s the state went through a racist fear-of-unfamiliar-people-temper-tantrum. It was ghastly and cruel. Proposition 187 was almost fascist, or as I drew at the time, fascist-light. But that hard right-turn ruptured and we've seen a steady and brave swing towards sensible moderation (and modernity) ever since. It required relearning some truths that should've been self-evident. I'm a California immigrant. My fa

Land Of Treason

Lorna Doom passed away last week. I missed the Germs (age 9 in 1980 & no older cousins, brothers). It wasn't until high school that Rodney on the Roq introduced me to the band. They sounded almost implausible to my Orange County ears. I wasn't ready. But that era in LA has since fascinated me (a tiny, thrift-store secret society simulacrum was recreated within the shabby interior of Jabberjaw, circa 1991. Didn't miss that, thankfully.). The original scene is honestly remembered in John Doe's Under the Big Black Sun. It's no Greil Marcus, Peter Guralnick, or Lester Bangs masterpiece, but I think it captures the weirdness and justifiably explains why the bands of that moment never get old.