JES THE MESS
$65.00 / Sold Out
February 23, 1978 - December 8, 2010
LIMITED EDITION 1-25, HAND NUMBERED SKATEBOARD DECK
9.5" Wide x 31" Long
7-ply hand crafted natural maple decks, always hand silkscreened nose to tail in California
*color of top veneer will vary
JESSE RICH 1978 – 2010
The moribund date of December 8th has been known to rob us of icons – John Lennon, Darby Crash, and now as of just yesterday Jesse Rich, vocalist/guitarist/songwriter/demented ball point pen artist of one of Orange County’s most definitive modern punk bands Broken Bottles.
The Orange Curtain can be a thick one - even to it’s immediate and more glamorous neighbor of L.A. - so to a lot of us Jesse and his gang could be an obscure reference. But considering that this man had countless numbers of rabid fans from here to Japan – specifically those looking to fill a void with classic “Hell Comes To Your House” – style punk that teetered on death rock (the song “Gothic Chicks” couldn’t have been penned by a better hand!), the passing of Jess The Mess should be a prime reminder to the rest of us to maybe dig a little deeper in our own backyards and realize what kind of truly strange, hilarious, and twisted creatures are lurking down there before they disappear too deep into the other direction for good.
At the time when it was is even more of a white latch-key kid ghetto, Jesse’s first band The Dogs was San Clemente personified – violent, nihilistic, drug addled youth half-way house anti-anthems that oozed residual radioactivity from the nuclear tits of neighboring San Onofre. His signature frenzied, schizophrenic rhythm guitar defied any orthodox playing we were used to, and was the perfect vessel for the band’s beyond urgent, paranoid delinquent vibe that was equal parts Adolescents and Rudimentary Peni. A punk band never sounded so evil and painfully out of control, still managing to raise goosebumps as I play their one single record twelve years later as I write this.
Broken Bottles were this good but possibly even more threatening, as by this time Jesse had grown into a bonafide punk “songwriter” of the highest order, often being (reluctantly) compared to a far scarier Mike Ness, which like most compliments thrown at him, would find some way to make fun of you for it! Their debut single “Radioactive San Onofre” easily remains as one of the finest punk sides of the last decade – a convincing, chilling observation of living in the shadow of said San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station - complete with all the folly of shiver-inducing radio drama – the song could almost be considered our Bush-era Orange County “(Remember) Walking In The Sand?” (!)
Jesse Rich is survived by his brother Travis and the rest of his family, friends, fans, who are all no doubt wondering, “If he would have lived another year, do you think his all those ball-point blueprints for his Adolph Hitler Pez Dispenser would have eventually been mass-marketed?” - Gabriel Hart