Punk from p 46 approach of the ’80s scene. “In the JFA days, we thought about the next few weeks,” Cornelius says. “We thought something would happen and it would all be over and all the clubs would close and the cops would start showing up.” Cornelius adds, “We used to play the Salty Dog. It was just a closed bar that we could get in and that still had power. That wasn’t the kind of thing you thought was going to last, right?” Given the scene’s innate like Gin Blossoms and Dead Hot Work- shop [in the early ’90s],” Cornelius says. “I saw the changeover in that era. A lot of those people had experience going to punk rock shows in the ’80s.” For his part, Beram is hoping to moti- vate and encourage a new generation of artists, fans, and cultural stakeholders. “I’ve been told by other people that the [DIY] mindset is maybe getting lost some- where in American society these days,” he says. “So if [the club] can inspire people to go ahead and do something yourself, that’s certainly a large part of the success.” It’s also about giving a spotlight to some Placebo Records volatility, Beram says his work isn’t just archival but to fur- ther facilitate things for the artists involved. “It was a very beautiful convergence of Right: Doug Clark of Mighty Sphincter plays guitar at Mad Gardens in Phoenix in the early 1980s. A young Michael Cornelius is taking pictures in the background. Above: JFA’s four-song EP, Blatant Localism. these weird little art scenes,” Beram says of Phoenix in the ’80s. “You had something in Mesa, and a group way over in Maryvale and another in downtown, and none of them really knew each other. When Placebo and Mad Gardens opened up, it gave all these people a kind of a central clearinghouse to do their things, and ev- erybody met each other.” But it’s not just about protecting and promoting the past, either. There’s the fu- ture to consider. “I think that one of the goals of it, really, is to remind people of what hap- pened then and how it can relate to now,” Cornelius says. “Not just to save that history, but so people can view it and relate to it and get involved with it. If people are in- spired by it, we could help them document what they’re doing.” Cornelius adds that making history, and overcoming certain obstacles, has always been an integral element of Placebo’s oper- ations. “There were clubs that said, ‘No, we’re just going to have a country band and play of the older artists, of course, with Beram adding that if “you catch an artist at 60, they’re just in a much more talented, stable space.” So, does all this mean a resurrection of sorts for Placebo Records? Beram is mum on the details, but says they’ve had conver- sations about rereleases and new records. “If there’s a way to do it that adds some- Joseph Cultice some covers,’” he says. “Then punk rock bands started breaking that barrier...and a few clubs started to put in a good sound system. I mean, that was a big deal.” It’s an ethos that grew within other sub- sequent local scenes. “I played at Long Wong’s with bands thing, then I’m open to it,” he says. “When I decided to shut Placebo down and put it into storage, it left some projects that were kind of started but never got done. Those are kind of intriguing to me.” For his part, though, Cornelius is focused on something more direct, a tendency that speaks to the heart of Placebo, its legacy, and whatever future might lie ahead. “It just feels really good to remember and play music, and to pay some tribute to the re- ally good songs that came out of that era,” he says. 48 JAN 13TH– JAN 19TH, 2022 PHOENIX NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | FILM | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | FEATURE | NEWS | OPINION | FEEDBACK | CONTENTS | phoenixnewtimes.com
