The Diaries of Henry Rollins - Book Review

Written by: Tom Wilson | Sense Music Media

Today, at almost sixty, Rollins’ body of work is formidable. He is a spoken word performer, actor, writer, musician, songwriter and activist, and also a punk rock legend. Since 1981, he has worked non-stop, travelling to almost every country on earth, either as front-man for two successful bands or performing spoken word, releasing dozens of albums and playing thousands of shows. If idle hands are the Devil’s playground, then the Devil has never met Henry. Famous for his imposing physique – picture a bodybuilder covered in tattoos, often performing in only a pair of gym shorts – and his remarkable work ethic, Rollins is an intense character, and this is certainly evident in this book, which covers his early twenties.

In 1981, Henry Lawrence Garfield was scooping ice cream at a Haagen-Danz in Washington D.C. By 1986, he was Henry Rollins, a punk rock icon living in a garden shed, muscles covered in scars and tattoos, breathing a sigh of relief that his band had broken up and he didn’t have to be a rock star anymore. Get in the Van is the story of what happened in between, when an intense, dissatisfied young man got to join a band and spend the next five years getting starved, ripped off, punched, kicked and spat on as front-man for Black Flag.

A collection of diary entries and recollections paired with blurry black & white snapshots and xeroxed gig fliers – famous for the subversive, disturbing but always interesting art of Raymond Pettibon – GITV is disjointed and uneven, but it’s not supposed to be an easy read. Nothing about this book is “easy”. It’s a warts-and-all tour of duty through an endless procession of dingy venues, dilapidated houses, diners and all-night drives.

The journey begins when Henry meets the band and eventually tries out to be their new singer. From there, he quits his job, sells his car, and hurls himself into the bohemian grind of touring, where money is sparse and their next meal is never guaranteed. Pasting up gig fliers around Los Angeles by day, and playing by night, Rollins quickly learns to despise the police, who he sees harassing punk fans with impunity.

“I met a kid who was cuffed to the door handle of a police car outside the gig. He was there early to catch soundcheck and the cop busted him drinking a beer in the parking lot. I hung out with the guy and gave him some water. It was strange to be talking with this guy who was standing in the sun tied to a car. I guess the pig figured he was teaching him a lesson. That taught me plenty.” (Page 26)

Shows are often raided and shut down after only a few songs, and at one point the “pigs” even threaten to frame him for cocaine possession (which seems ludicrous, as Henry doesn’t even drink alcohol). One dirty trick he notices is promoters calling the cops on their own shows, so they can clear the place out and keep all the money without having to pay for damages. Other promoters would refuse to pay them, and then call the next venues on the tour to tell them not to pay the band either. What would be outright illegal today was just reality in the 80s. But cops and promoters weren’t the only hazards. Skinheads were commonplace in the punk scene, and at Black Flag shows they seemed less interested in the music than they were in violent mayhem. Henry is often pulled offstage and beaten by the crowd, only to get back up and finish the set. He is coward-punched by both punters and security. A man is stabbed in front of him. Rollins soon begins performing in gym shorts because he doesn’t know when he’s next going to get a chance to wash his clothes or shower. On several occasions he finishes a set to find that someone has stolen his clothes. It’s painfully ironic that a band could play more often than they ate, sleep in vans and on random floors, and still be labelled sell-outs by fans of their music.

The touring schedule is relentless. The band often play a show on little or no sleep, load into the van and drive all night to do it all over again. Injuries – infections, spider bites, even a broken wrist – go untreated. Gear is stolen. Grudges simmer. Touring punk music in the 80s was a test of endurance. Only the true believers persevered.

The writing becomes more complex and skilful in the later chapters, as Henry spends more time putting pen to paper as a retreat from those around him whom he cannot stand. The self-loathing on display is often draining, and sometimes downright cringeworthy, but I feel that it’s to Henry’s credit (or perhaps narcissism) that he hasn’t downplayed or censored anything in these diaries. Humans are complex, and I believe that if we were forced to share every thought that comes into our heads, we would all be locked up. Henry is no different. His mental health ebbs and flows, and he finds that he has less and less in common with those around him, including some of his bandmates. Straightforward recollections often veer into nihilistic fantasy, pairing ultraviolence with bitter sarcasm, before swinging back into reality like nothing has happened. It is by turns amusing and horrifying. The writing is as raw and painful as an open wound. As the touring wears on, and his trademark tattoos start spreading down his arms, he becomes more antagonistic, and it is hard to blame him. No matter how much of himself he gives on stage each and every night, it’s never enough for the audience, and for every genuinely interesting person he meets, there are twenty more he can’t stand. By the time guitarist Greg Ginn calls him in 1986 to tell him that the band is breaking up, Henry isn’t sad so much as relieved.  

The question has to be asked – why would anyone do this? For Rollins, performing onstage is the only thing that matters, and is worth every struggle and hardship. His focus and willingness to push himself to the brink each and every night is remarkable. This drive is what has kept him working almost non-stop since the early 80s. For all its challenges, it beats the straight life. Someone asks Henry if he’ll regret his tattoos in 20 years. “I’d regret a wife and kids more.”

More than 25 years since it was first published, Get in the Van remains essential reading for anyone serious about becoming a touring musician.

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