Fishnets and leather cowgirl boots, heavy dark eyes and primal vocals rattling with nostalgia and fuck-off beauty.
That was Exene Cervenka, vocalist of X. Cervenka met vocalist/bassist John Doe in Los Angeles and X was formed in 1977, a year after had Cervenka arrived from Florida. With Billy Zoom on guitar, and D.J. Bonebrake on drums, X inspired the first wave of American punk. Hear that? They started it, gave it a sound and a backbone and they are still living it to this very day.
X never stopped touring, never stopped recording, and never sold out.
For all, it means a lot of hustling as they continue to carve their own trajectory, one that continues to throw a massive middle finger at corporate culture. Cervenka spoke by phone about her early days in Florida, finding punk in Los Angeles, and how excited she is to play with the guys again. Forty years since they started tearing it up, the original band takes to the stage at St. Petersburg’s State Theatre on Sunday, May 14.
Get more information on the show via local.cltampa.com and read our full Q&A below.
It was a whole different world, a whole different country, and it was a whole different Florida. You might as well live on another planet compared to how things are now.
It was really great because my sister and I would go to the wagon wheel flea market. There was a dump next to it. We were really into old stuff and we would find the most amazing stuff at the dump. We had so much vintage clothing and cool stuff, we just had everything in the world you can imagine. The mirrors with the flamingos painted on them…one time we found what was called an oriental rug at the dump.The real one.
I remembered finding a beaded 1920s hat in the dump. Florida back then was a lot of people who were older. They would die and their kids would come down and send to thrift store or throw it away. We’d go get it for nothing and that was fun. I worked as a waitress and a busboy, and other crap jobs. My first job was selling cemetery plots over the phone for a couple weeks. At the end of the second week, I walked up and the people were gone and the place was locked up. It was a total scam and I never got paid.
I went to St. Petersburg High School but dropped out on my 16th birthday because it was all about. I grew up in Illinois and got a really good education in Catholic school When I got down to Florida, I had really learned everything they were teaching. From the eighth grade on, I wasn’t getting too much more. There was some racial unrest going on then, which was really difficult for everyone.
The schools were integrating about the time you started down here, right?
When I went to Pinellas Park Junior High, it was the only all-white school left at that point. And that was a point of pride for them, so that was kind of weird. I didn't need it, I didn't want it, i wasn't interested in the social crap and pep rallies going on. It wasn't my thing, I never was much of a normal kind of school person, obviously. But I loved living in Florida then, it was great.
You definitely lived here during the last gasp of Old Florida.
Well old Florida was still old Florida, especially you get into Central Florida in the 1940s. I had a 1950 Cadillac I drove when I lived in Central Florida. Where I ended up living for a time.
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I know when your mom passed away, you had to move to Central Florida and kind of organize and mobilize your sisters. Did that time make you anxious to get out of Florida?
I was in St. Pete. I got an apartment when I was 16 and I had a nice boyfriend and a job at Webb City.
Oh wow.
Yeah, third and fourth floor. I put away the animals every night. So I liked that, but then my mom died very suddenly and they were living in Central Florida. They were living near Tampa in a town called San Antonio, town of 300. So I had to give up all that in St. Pete and move to Central Florida to raise for my sisters for a year and a half. My father remarried, so by the time I got back to St. Pete I didn't have any place to go back to there. I didn't have anyone I was hanging out with, my really good friends were gone. So I moved up to Tallahassee because a friend needed a roommate. But I didn’t much care for Tallahassee and I couldn't find a job. The 70s wasn't a great time to be a weirdo. This was before punk, no one knew what I was. I was never a hippy really, I was not a punk. I was just wearing weird outfits. Someone I knew was going to California, so I went to California and that was that.
One more question about Florida, what was St. Pete like when you were living here?
What was it like?
Yeah.
It was like America, it was heaven. it was the olden days. It was incredible, if I could go back to that time, I would. It’s gone everywhere, and it’s too sad. It was just idyllic.
How did poetry come into your life?
My sister gave me a old ledger to write in when I was 14. It was blank and I looked at here and she said, “write it in it.” And I went, “okay.” I think I’d done some writing and art at that point. Every kid does writing and art, it’s just beaten out of you.
Were there poets that had an impact on you or were just doing your own thing?
No, I’m not one of those people that can cite all the influences of who I wish I was. I’ve never tried to write like anyone, draw like anyone, I love so many artists and writers. But I don't want to emulate anyone. Being original is the highest form you can aspire to.
Is part of that not absorbing too much?
No, it’s more reading everything you can and see who you’re not. Everything is not reactionary. People are too immediately influenced by, “Oh! I want to be that.” Everything is there and you’re there, just be you. That’s my whole advice to people, just be yourself. Younger women will say they want to be like me, and I will say, “be you.”
Well, you might be the reason I started wearing cowgirl boots at a young age. I’m a little convinced it was your records around the house.
Well you can get great cowgirl boots in Florida. That’s cool, it’s such good look. It’s cool when it something like that. That’s just a tip, cowgirl boots are cool.
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What music were you listening to before you left for L.A.?
I was listening to thrift store music, mostly old records. I didn’t have in way of belongings, my father and mother had an old stereo. I bought thrift store records in Dade City, people like Fanny Brice. I wasn't into glam, no david bowie. I was into old music and I liked what was on the radio. I was more of an Allman Brothers person, the Doors. Then when I got to California it was everything in the world.
What is punk?
It would be the indefinable, the most natural, the most anti-policial yet political movement. It has a lot to do with music, it has the most to do with originality and rejection of corporate culture than any other form I can think of. The hippies, the beatniks and the punks were all similar in that way. With punks, the reaction was the hippies tried to save the world and they failed. So let’s all laugh at the world since it can’t be fixed. There was a lot of striving to fix it. But me? My personal definition of punk is to overthrow the corporate culture, it would now be called globalism and revert to Americana and folk, as opposed to the government.
What was Los Angeles like when you got there in 1976, as opposed to the Florida you’d just come from?
It was similar in way, because at that time there was a lot of freedom. I didn't have a car or anything, you could take the bus anywhere. You could live cheap on the beach for almost nothing. The outlaws would be out on the sidewalks with their choppers. Manson girls would come with their foreheads, wandering around barefoot. It was about freedom, it was about beach freedom.
When I lived in Venice, it was deserted and there were Vietnam vets everywhere. We would hitchhike all over and get into adventures. And then I met John and then I met Billy and I started hanging out with John. Moved to east Hollywood and made friends, but it was reactionary to the Fleetwood Mac kind of stuff. We were poor, but being poor in the early 1970s meant nothing. It was just like you go to a thrift store and get something for $5, there you go, you got a couch. It was so easy to get a car for $500 and drive a vintage for almost nothing. You didn't have to worry about the police state too much. That eventually encroached on punk.
You know, life was easy, everyone had a good sense of humor back then. We just tore it up. Hollywood and the Boyle Heights and the beach, that was our St. Pete. That was our town. We felt it was our town, Hollywood Boulevard was our main street.
How did you meet Dave Alvin and when did he begin teaching you guitar?
The Blasters opened for us. John and I walked in early for the gig and wouldn't believe someone was playing this kind of music, and now. It was the best thing ever. It wasn't until later, after Billy first took a break for a while, when Dave was playing with us that I learned guitar. We were in a motorhome on the road, I asked Dave some musical questions and he showed me some chords. And I go, “that’s it?” He said, “that’s it.” And I go, “why didn't someone show me this before?” I was in a band with Billy, DJ, and John, the most musically gifted and experienced in their spectrum of what they do and what they know about music. It’s daunting to be in a band with them. I couldn't sing, couldn't play. Well at least I’ll learn one thing, I’m not going to try two. They’re too good. But you realize that is silly. But I didn't need to, I wasn't going to play in the band. But I’m glad I did because in 1986, I started writing songs. Everyone should play an instrument, it’d be great if everyone could get back to that again.
So you didn't have any musical training other than when you got into the band. When you sing with John, do you sing a second above him?
I wouldn't have a clue. I have no musical training whatsoever. I’ve been self-taught with guitar. I never studied music, art, or writing. Just some poetry workshops.
It’s just natural, that’s great.
We sing a lot differently now. Live, there’s so many more notes and so much prettier and weirder. It’s like we’re going to put out some live stuff at some point soon, it’s a whole different animal. What we are now live is a lot different from what we were. The good stuff is still there, but there’s other good stuff too. In my opinion.
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You’ve worked in myriad mediums throughout your life, I love that about you. You write, you play, you do collage. What has the benefit been to working between mediums in terms of creativity?
Being able to make a living helps. The days of having a part time job and being in a band and surviving are over. I’ve lived a long time and have had to support myself. I have to work constantly, I do art shows, I love making art. I don’t have a lot of time though, I work a regular job when I’m not on the road. You have to push yourself to as many things as you can. Plus gardening and dogs and trying to have a life. But then we’re opening for Blondie and it’s great that we get these gigs. We like to do those.
I don't have a solo band, I do shows with John and I do my art. I haven't done a show in a while, I’m working on a new series. I’m concentrating on X right now, not only because its our 40th year but it could be our last year. I want to get as much done as possible, I want to have as much fun with it, I want to do as many projects as I can. I want to get live recordings, do some new art, do something focused on X. This is the time to focus on X, the side projects keep you going and keep the bills paid. But it’s not the focus, the focus is X.
What it is like to play with these guys after 40 years?
It’s incredible. Every night I look over and I see Billy playing sax. I love Billy, John and I look at each while we’re singing, our thoughts meld sometimes. It’s magic. Forty years is a long time, most relationships are short now. I’m the same way, I can’t have a relationship for more than a few years. What you lose, people think of the excitement of the new and falling in love and unfamiliarity. And that’s great, but when you're with someone for a long time like the four of us. You gain this whole other thing, it’s like what you lose when you’re sober. People find out when they chose to get sober that they feel like they’re giving stuff up. But later you gain so much, same goes for long term relationships.
Sometimes it can be you know people too well, they get on your nerves, why did you make that choice so long ago and here you are. You realize when times are hard and when it matters, there they are again in a different way. You learn that when you are older, you don’t know that when you’re young. You’re playing musical chairs in bands. To me, that is rewarding and more exciting than something new.
Billy has been real sick a couple of times. With Billy getting better, I know going on this tour was a big deal. Even 40 years later, you all seem genuinely stoked to play together.
We tour constantly, even when Billy was under treatment we couldn't cancel our tours. When Billy got sick two summers ago, I was like, “I guess I’m gonna cancel the tour,” and he said, “no way you’re gonna cancel, you’re out $40,000 if you cancel. You’re going on tour.” Okay, Billy got a quarter of the money. We paid Jesse Dayton (Waylon Jennings and Supersuckers) to play with us, he’s the only person who could do it. It was a really fun tour, Billy got money and he was sad he couldn't go. When you tour like us, you have to get along because this isn't one of those bands where each person has their own bus and they don't speak to each other, or have their own dressing rooms. Well, we have a van. We have an equipment van and a passenger van. When you’re in a dressing room that’s like, 10×10 feet, you can’t not get along.
What’s it like to play together 40 years later?
You want to hear a snotty answer? It’s completely different because now people know what to expect to a certain extent. In the early days, when you’d play Miluwakee, no one knew who we were or what we sounded like. They were coming to experience the unknown and it was exciting. People were so friendly as individuals in the early days, even 83. You’d see each person having their version of epiphany and reaction. Or boredom or anger. But they were like all in their own experiential world. And it wasn’t, okay now we’re all going to move around in a circle. We’re all gonna clap. It wasn’t that. People say they watched the show, but the show was what I was watching. The show was the audience to me, because I was watching 600 people and they were watching four. Now I see a different version, it’s still there, but people understand what X is. They get it and I a lot of kids up front, punk audiences were always all ages. I love that.
Thank you for taking time to speak with me. I’ll be at your show in St. Pete, I’ve never seen you, I’m bringing my Dad and he’s so excited.
You’re taking your Dad, he’s not taking you. That’s so great.
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This article appears in May 4-11, 2017.