Riff Raff

Axed By Jan. 30, the nightclub-recording-rehearsal space formerly known as Klub Komotion will be disassembled and then vacated, making way for new owners, who will begin remodeling the 1,800-square-foot live-work space. You may be one of those who thought Komotion disassembled years ago, but don't believe the hype.

Komotion began producing live shows over 12 years ago without advertising, licenses, or permits. They drew crowds by word-of-mouth and fliers, building on the DIY/BYO ethic that still resonated in San Francisco in the mid-'80s. The collective grew: At one time there were as many as 35 people contributing to Komotion in a variety of capacities. Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, Primus, Green Day, Consolidated, and Rancid all graced the Komotion stage at one time or another, and returned often as patrons. Later, longtime Komotion member Jeff Mann began recording the acts, including three Sublime shows, which produced 11 of the 16 songs to be released as Stand by Your Van later this year. The Komotion studio was also used to record albums for local bands like Waycross and Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.

"The Komotion stage was a great rehearsal space for the outside world," says Mann. "We didn't offer any door guarantees, but we didn't have any expectations or demands, either. Shows kind of ran themselves. People would propose an idea, we'd outline the limitations and the dangers, and give them the green light." The limitations of playing an underground club: no publicity. The dangers: Technically, it can get shut down. But that never stopped the shows for too long.

"There'd always been hassles with the authorities," says Mann. "The men with badges would show up and take notes. There'd be a call the following week and a fire inspection. We'd have to close down for two or three months. We'd start up again and people would catch on, and sooner or later, we'd be back to doing a show every weekend. From the outside, the situation appeared to be changing all the time, so the cops would let us slide. There was only one person in the vicinity who really wanted us out. If he saw a flier or a handbill, the police would be called -- sometimes, I think, even before the show. We'd say, 'This isn't a rock show. This is a live recording and the audience is participating.' We'd pull everything out of the hat until they said it just didn't work anymore."

For the last three years, Mann has acted as the chief bulwark for the Komotion. But in September of last year, while Mann continued to offer one of the city's last unconventional stages and cheapest studios, the building was sold to two longtime San Francisco artists -- people Mann calls the "real thing." They gave Komotion until the end of January.

The last show at Komotion was one of many thrown on the premises by the Church of SubGenius. It included an official proclamation written by Papa Joe Mama and read by Master of Church Secrets Dr. Howland Owll. It began:

WHEREAS, it has been called to the attention of this Office that various high ranking officials from the City of San Francisco have indulged in a successful campaign to subvert the free expression of ideas and beliefs of SubGenius and other deviant life forms from the public performance halls of Klub Komotion ...

And ended:
MOREOVER, let it also be resolved that we will DESTROY our temple rather than allow the Pinks and Mediocretins to take possession of it, or defile it with their unholy presence. We enact this demolition out of respect, to preserve the honor and reputation of Klub Komotion, and to fulfill our sacred duties in strict accordance with SubGenius Scorched Earth Policies as dictated by our Commander and Chief Executive, J.R. "Bob" Dobbs.

After a musical cue from Owll, the drunken crowd grabbed axes and shovels and began the ritual demolition of the Komotion stage. This proved more difficult than anyone imagined. It just didn't want to go.

"Komotion was a great place to learn how all this works," says Mann, "and how it doesn't really work in the real world. In the real world, you pay $8 at the door; you pay $4 for a watery beer in a plastic cup served by a hostile bartender; the band goes onstage without a competent sound check; they play for exactly one hour; there's no encore; and at quarter to 2 pissed-off employees begin pulling your chair out from under you because they have a license to protect. That's how it works in the real world."

Mann has since donated the very well-built stage to Space, a collective recently founded in the East Bay. The remainder of Komotion's accouterments (exit lights and the like) will be sold flea market-style to resourceful people with more time than money; contact Jeff Mann at 626-4420. (Silke Tudor)

Switched-On Journalism We can't remember why we decided to read through the entire article in the Jan. 8 Examiner announcing Timothy O. White's installation as the afternoon daily's publisher -- announcements of staff changes at daily newspapers generally aren't the sort of thing that gets Riff Raff excited -- but we're glad we did. Buried at the end of Scott Winokur's piece is a brief mention of White's rock 'n' roll history: He used to work for the Moog Corp., the legendary synthesizer manufacturer. "In that capacity," wrote Winokur, "White traveled with the rock trio Emerson, Lake & Palmer."