Local motives: Jani Lange’s fight to preserve South Bay culture
A.M.I. partners Jani Lange and Jred Kennedy with posters from their shows. Photo .
As dawn crests upon Redondo Beach’s Seaside Lagoon, logo-emblazoned tents are pitched against a peninsula skyline in preparation for the 6th annual D-Man Festival, commemorating Darren Marsee. A crew of early-risers trickles through the gates, their gurgling stomachs fueled only by cheap coffee and donuts.
Jani Lange greets unsuspecting staff with “MY MAN!”, a high five and an assignment, doling out instructions with the authority carried by men with suits and briefcases, not the camouflage shorts, tank top and brightly colored backpack worn by Lange.
Early rain and rolls of thunder have made some of the event staff apprehensive. Lange laughs it off.
“Dude, it’s so out of your control you just gotta have fun with it. Maintaining a positive attitude keeps the rest of the team stoked as well,” he says.
The 34-year-old event promoter handles life like an itinerary, with middle finger and thumb deliberately creasing the stapled corner of each page he turns.
Lange is, by his own admission, sociable to a fault.
“Me and a lot of the other promoters, I think we all share this defective gene where you always have to be out, you always have to know what’s going on,” he said.
Before marriage, kids and a career, Lange would be at backyard parties, bars and concert venues seven nights a week.
“He’s the youngest 34-year-old I’ve ever met,” said friend and former boss Dickie O’Reilly, co-owner of Spyder Surf. “That’s what makes him so good at what he does. He’s so passionate and fired up about everything he gets involved in.”
A.M.I., D.I.Y.
Lange was born in Hermosa Beach to Latvian parents, refugees who fled Soviet occupation during World War II.
He was immersed in the lore of surf culture at an early age, catching premieres of classic surf movies such as “Rolling Thunder” and “Surfers Take Two” at the Bijou Theater and discovering local surf legends Greg Noll, Hap Jacobs and photographer LeRoy Grannis.
“I always knew I wanted to maintain that electric atmosphere (of surf culture) and bring it to the community so others could feel what my friends and I got to feel,” Lange said.
Longtime friend Ben Beverly remembers Lange as the “social chairman” of the South Bay at Redondo Union High School.
“He always knew what was going on, where the parties were, where the place to be was. He was Myspace or Facebook before they were even around,” Beverly said.
Due to his mother’s abusive second marriage and his urge to protect her, Lange stayed in Hermosa after high school while his friends left for university. Finding opportunity in adversity, he turned staying at home into a business.
At 18, he was witnessing the mid-90s resurgence of South Bay punk. Peers Deviates, 98 Mute and No Big Deal were following the success of Hermosa legends Black Flag, Descendants and Pennywise.
Clubs saw the bands as a liability and were unwilling to book all-ages events.
“There was nowhere to play other than backyard parties, which would obviously get broken up with the first distorted guitar chords that rang out,” said Beverly, the bassist for No Big Deal and presently press manager for Jack Johnson’s Brushfire Records.
Lange was dismissed by the older, established promoters whose tutelage he sought. Instead of accepting defeat, he turned the resurgent punk scene into an opportunity for success.
“That’s always been the spirit of punk rock,” said Pennywise guitarist Fletcher Dragge. “When you’re told that you can’t do something or no one will help you do something, you either give up and lay it to rest or do it yourself. At the end of the day, [Lange] sat down and said, ‘If I want to get this done I’m going to have to do it myself.’”
While attending El Camino College, Lange worked for a student tour company selling ski trips to high school students.
“Before I knew it, I had every single important kid on every campus in the South Bay helping me out selling the trips, so when it came to doing a show or a party I knew exactly who to call, I knew exactly who to put on the list, and I knew exactly how to get the biggest turnout from the entire community.”
Lange convinced the Lawndale punk venue Frogs to host his first event. The bar had lost its liquor license and was threatened with closure.
He settled on Alterior Motives, Inc. as a name for his production company. He later realized his spelling error, but kept the acronym A.M.I.
With a line up of South Bay bands Lunacy, Deviates, No Big Deal, Nonox 9 (who would later become 1208) and Jynks, the audience of teenage punks at the October 11, 1996, show exceeded the venue’s capacity by 200 kids.
“That’s when the movement began,” said Lange.
Living for today
Pennywise’s Fletcher Dragge, Jani Lange, artist Raymond Pettibon and Circle Jerks' Keith Morris at last year's Punk Art Show at the Hermosa Beach Historical Society and organized by Lange and partner Jared Kennedy. Photo by Nick Meistrell.
Lange studied public relations and marketing at El Camino College and Long Beach State while doing sales for Spyder’s new line of clothing.
And he continued promoting shows in the South Bay, taking on partner Jared Kennedy, who was a few years younger and had been promoting parties in Torrance and Lomita.
“The more we talked the more we realized we were on the same page. Why work against each other when we can dominate together?” recalled Kennedy.
Upon signing to the Epitaph label, the Deviates asked Lange to become their manager. He was soon shaking hands with Epitaph label heads, Warped Tour creator Kevin Lyman and Hurley International owner Bob Hurley.
“These were the people I heard about growing up and now to be considered a peer and to work (with them) on record label strategies, sales strategies, and touring strategies was insane,” said Lange.
The Deviates’ European tour with Orange County band Ignite was nicknamed the “Starvation Tour” for a reason. Too broke to call the US to arrange tour dates on the band’s dime, Lange had to sneak long distance calls from the back of venues.
Terrified of beef due to the hoof-and-mouth disease epidemic, the group lived off chicken and vegetables.
“Finally this beautiful roast beef dish was served to us one night at dinner and one of the guys was like ‘F… it, I’m going for it’,” Lange recalled.
Most memorable, though, was a group of Belgian South Bay punk devotees they met early in the tour.
“The band starts playing, house is empty,” Lange recalled. “Nobody’s there. But there were five dudes in front of the Deviates that were going off and sang (along on) every song. And I’m sitting there just in awe, looking at the band looking at me going ‘Who are these guys?’”
Two years later the Belgian punks made the trek to Hermosa to walk the holy sands of their idols.
“These kids saved for two years to make a punk rock pilgrimage to Hermosa Beach. I was like, ‘Dude, there’s something going on here.’ I really didn’t have a global perspective on how influential the scene was until then,” said Lange.
I don’t want to grow up
Deviates disbanded before the end of their tour, arriving at The Troubador in Los Angeles for their last show like pioneers at the end of the Oregon Trail, with only one original member left standing.
Lange, who was nearing 25, returned to Hermosa to a changed scene.
“Twenty-five is the line of demarcation. That’s when people from a party scene are either dead, in jail, or married and have kids. That’s when things change,” he said.
He and Kennedy escalated their game. With a younger generation now wearing the punk mantle and the opening of Latitude’s in Redondo Beach, they saw an opportunity to bring major acts playing Hollywood west across the 405.
“We were bringing big talent before St. Rocke and Brixton existed. We were the only ones bringing national touring acts to town,” said Lange. Lange and Kennedy now promote events for both clubs.
The duo booked acts like Guttermouth, Agent Orange, Strung Out and TSOL.
“Once we had Guttermouth in there we kind of showed there was a new market here,” Kennedy recalled.
The feathers in A.M.I.’s cap came with a homecoming show Lange and Kennedy produced for Black Flag founder Greg Ginn. When former Black Flag lead singer Keith Morris caught wind of the show, he asked them to orchestrate a reunion show for his band, The Circle Jerks.
Meanwhile, Lange became a sales representative for Volcom, which he still works for, and focused on finishing his degree at CSULB.
He was impressed by a group of artists from the punk, skate and surf cultures who had taken their work to a wider audience through their album and poster designs, earning recognition from a society that had previously scorned them, artists like Greg Simkins (Craola), Johnny Ace, Greg Rinaldi (Stainboy) and Jimbo Phillips.
Poster for A.M.I event by artist Johnny Ace. Provided by Jani Lange.
“These artists were making a living off these activities that people perceive as hobbies,” said Lange.
Lange and Kennedy decided to appropriate the concept and in 2003 invited Simkins and a roster of South Bay punk musicians, tattoo artists, photographers and clothing designers to submit pieces for the first in a series of “Black Market” art shows.
“The mission was to inform and educate the average person on the street that we’re more than just derelicts. There’s more to us than just riding skateboards and having tattoos. We are the people who are creating this culture that is making Hermosa Beach attractive,” Lange said.
The series culminated in a punk art exhibit at Hermosa Beach’s Historical Society in February of last year. Society President Rick Koenig’s only rule was “don’t burn the place down,” Lange recalled.
The exhibit, which took 18 months to cull from the tomes of collectors, included Raymond Pettibon’s work for Black Flag and the original sketches of Descendents’ vocalist Milo Aukerman, as well as 14 years of A.M.I. posters.
This was the maturity Lange had been seeking.
“It was something more sophisticated than slugging back beer and getting sweaty in a pit,” he said.
Click here for 15 years of A.M.I. in posters.
The other F-word
A.M.I.’s 15th anniversary last month was also a first birthday for Lange’s son. He and his wife Denyse also have a three-year-old daughter.
Becoming a family man has tempered Lange, although his restless soul and continued desire to raise eyebrows keeps him juggling new projects.
He hopes to one day shake the label that 15 years as an emissary of South Bay punk has given him.
“I’m tired of being pigeonholed as a punk guy. A.M.I. is so much more than that,” Lange said.
When Hermosa Beach cancelled its Christmas tree lighting last year, Spyder Surf owner Dennis Jarvis approached the city with the idea of turning downtown into a winter wonderland. He recruited Lange for the task, and together with O’Reilly and Dave Molnar of Audio Farm they did just that, dumping over 50 tons of snow on Pier Avenue and dubbing it “Snow Fest”.
The quartet is bringing another 50 tons of powder to downtown Hermosa this December. Lange is also pushing for the founding of a Skate Fest to round out the trio of Spyder events. (They co-host a Surf Fest in the spring with the South Bay Boardriders Club).
Jani Lange practicing what he preaches last winter at 16th Street in Hermosa Beach. Photo
Lange also hopes to work with the Historical Society on a history of South Bay surf shops. His first job as a teen was guarding Becker Surf’s parking lot and he worked for Kevin Doyen at Pier Surf before working for Spyder.
“What a lot of people don’t remember or don’t take into consideration is that the surf shop is as critical an institution for kids around here as school, because at the surf shops you learn how to grip your skateboard, how to wax your surfboard, and what pro’s riding for what company – how to not be a kook. You learn the etiquette and the DNA of the town,” he said.
Lange was a member of Leadership Hermosa’s graduating class of 2011 and sits on the organization’s newly-established alumni board.
“I foresee him eventually running for city council,” said Hermosa councilman Pete Tucker. “I think he’s got that leadership quality and I think he’d be good at it.”
“Jani’s the man. Really, he gives back always and he’s on point. If anyone was going to be mayor of Hermosa, it should be him,” said Moises Juarez of reggae band Tomorrow’s Bad Seeds, who annually headline the D-Man Festival.
Lange says he’s still “too green” but is interested in running for city council in the future.
Until then, he’s content to continue his civic service outside the political arena.
“I just want to maintain the quaint beach culture that Hermosa Beach has to offer and turn as many people on to it as possible and provide the same quality of life for my kids [that I’ve had],” he said.
D-Man
What became a hot, clear festival day has cooled off. The lagoon shimmers in the dying light as a dark cloud approaches from the west. From the bed of his truck, Lange reflects on the past 13 hours. Aside from a few minor scrapes, including a couple of arrests, the 6th Annual D-Man festival has been a success.
“Doing events like this, for me, is very emotional. It’s funny to say, but it’s a huge emotional rollercoaster from the anxiety to the potential problems,” he says.
Lange has for years celebrated the successful conclusion of a show with a basket of chili-cheese fries from Rocky Cola Café and two tall boys of Coors Light.
“I wake my wife up, tell her about the night and just sit there on the floor, eating my chili cheese fries, listening to her complain about how bad they smell. That’s my idea of ending a good night,” he says.
With Rocky Cola recently boarded, he’ll still enjoy the comfort of his wife and a cold beer tonight.
But his rest is sure to be brief.