Any line from the song “Low Self Opinion” off of the 1992 Rollins Band album End of Silence sounds like it could be shouted at a sulking 8th grade boy after he was picked last for a team in gym class.
He wouldn't be elevated to the punk icon status he's held for over three decades, let alone the subversive teen idol for a girl entering high school, which is exactly how things worked out.
They released the recording as the first episode of the appropriately titled podcast, and two days later, it had been downloaded over 10,000 times.
"I think as it keeps going, there'll be a lot of autobiographical stuff," Rollins says.
It was so edgeless, in fact, it could be considered round.
I called up Rollins at his Los Angeles office in late January to talk about aging, anger, teaching manners to hipsters, the consciousness-expanding effects of a passport properly used, and why he makes for a lousy boyfriend. If you don’t get hit by a car or something, you’re going to hit 50 at some point.Your named your publishing company, 2.13.61, after your birthday, so your age was public knowledge even before everyone’s age was. I guess maybe in the entertainment world, the more I go around that grotty track, the more I see that a lot of people conceal their ages for survival.At a certain age, some of these people turn into pumpkins.Like, you can’t be a beautiful woman and be 45 in a Hollywood film.So maybe to get a couple more films or one more season, you fudge the numbers a little so no tabloid can print your age in big letters and have you lose your deal at Fox or something.A great friend of mine, who happens to be a big bodybuilder and martial arts tough guy, used to hang out with Henry Rollins, and he maintained that there was an aspect of Rollins — the fist-shakingly intense ex-Black Flag front man and barking social commentator — that didn’t quite gel. ” and Rollins would respond by saying, humorlessly, “Fuckin’ and killin’, man.Fuckin’ and killin’,” which led my friend to question exactly how much of either one he had, in fact, been doing. I’ve liked Rollins ever since I saw him perform “Liar” at the 1995 Grammy Awards.Rollins, hard up against the specter of turning 40, has discovered a new strategy for his Rollinsness: goofy self-effacement and autobiographical navel-gazing.It would be disappointing if you had a big love investment in Henry the Darkly Intense Enigma of his earlier perpetrations, but if you had no stake in the |ber Rollins and were, like me, just curious to see where this perennially clever oddball was taking himself, it was good clean fun, rated PG.In that same hypothetical, fair world, a 14-year-old me wouldn’t have worn out her End of Silence cassette because she wouldn’t even own an End of Silence cassette.That’s because a younger me would have idolized Bratmobile’s Allison Wolfe, Bikini Kill’s Kathleen Hanna or any number of artists who played brash, angry punk that echoed my feminist sensibilities.