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Biafra, former singer for the Dead Kennedys takes a holiday in Cambodia.
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The crowd in the Nunemaker Auditorium in Monroe Hall on the Loyola University New Orleans campus on March 20 wasn’t exactly what I would call eclectic. The people gathered to hear Jello Biafra’s spoken word performance were mostly college students who were either very socially concerned young adults, punk music aficionados, or both. About ten to fifteen percent of the audience were fully functioning adults, and it was in this group that I found people I knew. And while the opening band, a group of young, uber-punk individuals, screamed through their set we sat outside waiting for the music to subside.
The band was followed by an impromptu presentation by Charles Duffy, the green party candidate (and fairly straight-laced guy) running for City Council, District C in New Orleans, and then by Jordan Flaherty, a recent college graduate promoting Critical Resistance, the Prisoner Resistance Coalition. Finally, as the moderator was preparing to introduce Mr. Biafra, she was interrupted by a booming, disembodied voice coming from the speakers: “We interrupt this program with a special bulletin.” The man himself swept onstage, clad in a long, black robe and a pair of dark sunglasses.
I have to admit, when I first agreed to write this article I was woefully unprepared. I didn’t even know who Jello Biafra was, aside from the lead singer of the Dead Kennedys, so I had no idea what to expect from this show. Opening acts that included punk bands followed by political candidates and protest leaders didn’t help to enlighten me, either; I didn’t get the connection. But after Mr. Biafra burst onto the stage and began his “announcement” declaring marshal law in the United States, things began to make more sense. Within the first few minutes on stage this man already had the audience thinking while laughing, making fun of the government in a retrospective way that illustrated his intelligence and understanding while forcing people to think.
This was the essence of Biafra’s entire performance. I have since learned that it is an attitude and style that has characterized his whole life and career, starting early on in childhood. When he was a young boy, Biafra says he used to watch the news with as much fervor and interest as cartoons. “I saw very little difference between the two, so I watched both with equal fascination. My early favorite cartoon characters were...oh, I liked George of the Jungle, Sen. Everett Dirksen and a few others, I mixed and matched.” His parents encouraged his worldly education by explaining to their son just what was going on at the time, why there were race riots, and exactly what the Cuban missile crisis was all about. He greatly accredits his attitude and understanding as an adult to all of these factors from childhood, and towards the end of his performance he encouraged others to promote that same understanding in their children. “Don’t hide reality from your kids... The less you hide from your kids the more they are likely to become conscientious adults and intelligent people.”
As an adult Jello Biafra has been the lead singer of the Dead Kennedys, founded the record label Alternative Tentacles, and run for mayor of San Francisco with a platform that included a law that all businessmen would be required to wear clown suits between the hours of nine and five. In 1985 he went to trial charged with “distributing harmful material to minors” after the release of the Dead Kennedys’ Frankenchrist album. He fought the right-wingers who had brought the charges against him, citing his first amendment rights, and has since been a big proponent for free speech in all forms.
Biafra certainly didn’t hesitate to exercise his right to speak freely that evening. He was extremely open and honest about his opinion on everything from why FEMA failed so badly in New Orleans, to the war in Iraq, to Kanye West versus the right-wing media. He encouraged people to stop cooperating with corporate America as much as possible and to not be afraid to vote the way your conscience says you should. Biafra had a style that night that connected with everyone in the audience, regardless of age group, while clearly showing his passionate need to share his knowledge on every subject that he mentioned. Admittedly, I had no idea what I was getting into when I first entered that auditorium, but I left with my mind reeling and with a serious appreciation for a man who calls himself Jello. I never thought such a thing could be done.
Erin Haindel files for NOLAFugees.com, among other publications in the city.
