"We never got ours," says John Doe, founding member of the seminal Los Angeles punk band X, when asked why he wrote the part-memoir, part-history book Under the Big Black Sun: A Personal History of L.A. Punk. Out today, the book (named for X's third album, released in 1982) chronicles the heyday of the punk scene in the late-'70s and early-'80s. "I don't really feel that what we all accomplished got its due credit," Doe says. "Some people still think the Sex Pistols were the first punk rock band. Whatever. I really couldn't care less. But it's nice to have this as a document, to tell the story of that time and place in the right way."

For anyone who thinks that punk rock was limited to the famed scenes in London and New York, Under the Big Black Sun offers hard evidence that the L.A. scene was just as important—and perhaps created an even greater, lasting impact. And with heartfelt, authentic, and sometimes differing contributions from fellow artists like Jane Wiedlin and Charlotte Caffey of the Go-Go's, Henry Rollins, Doe's X bandmate Exene Cervenka, and former Minuteman Mike Watt—plus an introduction from Green Day's Billie Joe Armstrong, who adds a little historic perspective—it's hard to deny that this is a great story about the underappreciated music that came out of the City of Angels during that golden period of 1977-1982.

X's Exene Cervenka and John Doe Jenny Lens

"We used five years because that was the point at which it really kind of fractured into a number of different scenes," Doe explains. "But I found that, looking back, that's about the longevity of most musical events— whether it's the Big Band era or Bakersfield. Those were short, too. A lot gets packed into one scene, but they generally burn bright and don't last."

Doe and Cervenka were the heart and soul of the L.A. punk, co-author Tom DeSavia says, while also underscoring the impact the music had on him as a young fan.

"They were the king and queen," DeSavia says. "John and Exene were the George and Tammy of L.A. punk, no question. They were the coolest fucking people. You went to a show and you knew what you were going to get. But it was funny for a kid who grew up on pop radio, which I did, because when L.A. punk came into the picture, it came barreling through like a Mack truck into my world, and to the worlds of a lot of kids just like me. And that story has sadly gotten lost."

As important and significant as Doe's voice is to Under the Big Black Sun, the book maintains the communal, supportive, and grassroots nature of the punk scene in L.A., where The Go-Go's would open for Black Flag and hardly anyone was chasing a major label deal. It's an undercurrent that was arguably missing from both London and New York in many ways.

"It wasn't just because of the good vibes," Doe says of that camaraderie. "It was out of necessity. Everyone had a part to play. Everyone did something. Everybody wanted to be a part of this crazy, bohemian experience. And there was nothing else that was as much fun going on at the time." That DIY, all-for-one ethos carried over to the writing of Under the Big Black Sun, which includes many points of view—even if those perspectives are conflicting.

The Go-Go's Jenny Lens

"That was the point of the book," Doe says, flatly. "Getting different peoples' perspectives hopefully gives the reader a fuller picture. It's not like we were all keeping track of what was going on. I think we all had a sense that something important was happening, but we were too busy doing it. Plus, I think, L.A. had a pretty big chip on its shoulder, because it was a little later [than the scenes in London and New York], and because everybody who isn't from L.A. seemed to think, 'Well, when you move to L.A., you're immediately given the swimming pool and the Mercedes and given a place to live.' They had no idea there was 5th and Main and a really nasty Skid Row. Everybody lived in crappy apartments and dealt with rats and roaches just like everybody else." The West Coast's grit and grime, naively ignored by those on the East Coast, also influenced Doe's music. "That's one reason X called our first record Los Angeles, to kind of plant that flag," he says. "People were busy, and they had a sense that it was fun and crazy and something was going on, but none of us had time to dwell on that or put on any kind of air about it."

Esquire is pleased to present an exclusive clip from the superb audiobook of Under the Big Black Sun: A Personal History of L.A. Punk. (You can also read an excerpt here.)

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For DeSavia, who discovered X as a 15-year-old suburban kid and later came to know Doe and the band later when he worked in the music industry, the story of the L.A. punk scene was an untold one, and he made it his mission to earn the scene he loved so much its due. "John became a pal, and we'd go to dinner, but the 15-year-old in me still couldn't believe I was hanging out with John Doe," DeSavia says. "I couldn't help subtly asking questions, between appetizer and entree. I'd dig for little stories, and what I found out was that everything I thought knew was wrong. And, beyond that, the stories that John told me were much better."

But there was another reason he signed on to collaborate with Doe on the book beyond the chance to thrill his inner fan. "The other thing that was happening, simultaneously, which I understand and am not bitter about, was that L.A. punk was being left to revisionist history," he says. "It's not an East versus West versus U.K. thing, it's that the East and the U.K. had stars. They had full-on celebrities like the Sex Pistols and Blondie and the Talking Heads, these super-iconic figures. L.A. bore a lot of legends, but not as many stars or people who were seen as notable. The idea that L.A. was a footnote—if it was even mentioned, like it didn't even exist—really bothered me. So I pressured John. I kept telling him, 'You've got to write a book.'" But he admits Doe was adamant against writing a straightforward memoir—a determination upon Doe's part that ultimately allowed the pair to produce the book they both wanted to see in print. "[John] said, 'I don't want to write a John Doe book. I don't want it to just be my perspective on what this happened, because I don't want that to be the tale,'" DeSavia says. "That's when the concept came. 'Whoa, what if we got a bunch of voices?' And he loved the idea that it wouldn't be just his story, but everyone's story."

Billy Zoom of X Michael Hyatt

"That was his driving force," Doe says of DeSavia. "He wanted to tell the L.A. story. It's not going to be like Gertrude Stein and Ernest Hemingway telling the story of Paris in the '20s, but in 15 or 20 years, I'm really glad that this will stand as [a record] of these people who were there telling the story of what we all experienced. I think that people who were part of that original Hollywood punk rock scene, and even the hardcore scene, are fiercely loyal and defensive of that, but that they realized that it was something in retrospect that was pretty special, and were glad to contribute, as a collaborative thing rather than an oral history."

And Doe makes it clear that he and DeSavia didn't take a strict journalist approach to writing the book, but rather maintained a punk-rock spirit. "There wasn't a lot of fact checking," he says. "This was more, 'We've got to write it down!' I wanted everybody's truth. If my memory is different from the other person's memory, so be it. That's their truth. Let the reader figure out what really happened."

For the Baltimore native, who, like so many before and since, ventured west in search of adventure and a new life, Doe still recalls the feeling he got when he first got to L.A. He admits he's still in love with his adopted hometown. "I came to Los Angeles for the distance. The distance and the light," Doe says. "I know people have written about it in the past, but as I stepped off the plane and out of the terminal and smelled the jet fuel and saw the pink light of Los Angeles, I knew I was in the right place. And that feeling still hits me. I think of it as fate, to meet Exene and Billy [Zoom] and D. J. [Bonebrake], and to become part of the whole scene that was happening, because there were a lot of things in play—a lot of angst and anger and ambition—but the freedom and openness of L.A. and the West really spoke to me. I don't think we realized what a naive time it was, but in retrospect, and after writing this book, I think we've come to realize how lucky we all really were."

Jeff Slate Jeff Slate is a New York City-based songwriter and journalist who has contributed music and culture articles to Esquire since 2013.

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