I'm not sure, but I think this bio is from the old Grand Royal site, but I found it on another DFL fansite. If you know where it's from, e-mail me at hef@chixdiggit.zzn.com -------------------------------------------------------------------- The epicenter of music never really left Los Angeles, although lesser cities such as grim Seattle and collegiate Chapel Hill (wherever the fuck that place is) made feeble attempts to grab the ring. In an L.A. just shy of a new millennium, D.F.L. captures the local hardcore essence much like The Germs and X did a few struts back. D.F.L.'s first CD release, entitled My Crazy Life, is a study of current events with a generous salute to punk rock in its primordial stage. Headstrong with rage and energy, it is, if nothing else, bullshit- free. D.F.L.'s Tom Davis and Monte Messex first met as unruly, scabby- nosed hooligans at the Hollywood Boys Club on Western Avenue. Messex couldn't figure out how Davis so perfectly melted the plastic ends of his lanyard straps. Davis clued him one day when the Boys Club boys were making Native American tee-pees in the parking lot. Davis turned from the pow wow and covertly pulled a pocket blow torch from his sweat shirt pocket. Messex thought, "Rad," Davis arched his eyebrows and grabbed his skateboard, asking Messex, "Hey, Monte. Do you like fire?" Davis and Messex were thick as thieves for many years, but Davis' fantasy of championing the rare sport of underwater karate surfing took him far away from the City of Angels and into watery destinations too treacherous to describe. To ease the pain of a broken friendship, Messex bought a $25 Reddenbacher guitar (a knock-off Rickenbacker) and strummed away many lonely afternoons in his kitchen, dressed in a FEAR t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. Unbeknownst to Messex, however, Davis, then training in the Jamaican Atwater Falls, also missed his childhood best friend. Davis expressed his homesickness by scribbling down stark song Iyrics in the flavor of Ginsberg's "Howl." His sister's wedding brought him back to Los Angeles, where Davis reunited with Messex. He told Messex that he wanted to create the best hardcore sound ever, and even turned down an endorsement offer from Thrash-Fu, the biggest pro underwater karate surf line in the world. Messex approved and D.F.L. (for Dead Fucking Last, the ideal spot on any show bill) was launched. Davis and Messex set out to find a bassist and drummer for their D.F.L. concept. Davis took charge of the personnel search and adopted a Louis XIV approach to finding just the right musicians. Nearly 20 bass players (including Lindsay Wagner and Slim Jim Fanta) got the guillotine by Davis before the dust settled. Davis had nearly given up the search, but while shooting hoops at the Wonderland Elementary School, he saw a sign tacked to a phone booth: "Bass player looking to moonlight in hardcore band. Hip-hop background. Have own studio." Davis called the number listed on the flyer and gave Adam Horovitz a trial run. The audition was shaky, and Davis was skeptical, but when someone who knew Horovitz called him a "chick magnet," Davis smiled and knew Horovitz was perfect. Messex is credited for scoring D.F.L.'s drummer, Tony "Smokebomz" Converse, although the two met purely by accident. Messex was shopping for Christmas gifts at the Army Surplus Store in Hollywood. When looking at the wide selection of gas masks (for the little woman, Messex thought), he noticed that the guy with the pig-tails behind the counter resembled a cross between Satan and Cindy Brady. Converse whispered to Messex, "Buddy...are you a survivalist?" To which Messex replied, "Huh? A what?" Converse pulled a black velvet lined box from under the counter and slowly revealed a collection of finely polished smokebombs. "Ever hold a smokebomb?" Converse asked. Messex didn't know what to say except, "Uh...no. Ever play drums?" With TEAM D.F.L. now assembled, Davis and Messex have penned some for the most visceral messages ever to be laid to wax and plastic. Anthems calling out to those who have ever been misunderstood, like "You Don't Understand." Political shout-outs rallying support for certain labors ("Pizza Man"), while condemning seemingly useless others ("Metermaid"). The root of hardcore, however, can only be witnessed in its purest form by catching a live D.F.L. set. D.F.L. stormed the second stage during the Los Angeles leg of Lollapalooza and finished their set to a standing punk rock ovation. Davis assures, "You missed out. It was a 20 to 1 female to male ratio." My Crazy Life includes four recently recorded tracks that did not appear on their 7" LP. The signature cut, "Smokebomb," harkens back to a Sunday night at the Troubadour when the club had to be evacuated at the end of D.F.L.'s set due to the mysterious release of a cannister of thick, dark smoke. The track opens with "Skin turns purple / Bodies start to shake / Eyes start to burn / Body starts to quake." Not unlike the dazed and coughing audience that stood on thecurb outside of the club, smoke spewing from the doors and into the Hollywood sky. The source of the smokebomb still remains unknown.