Marla Watson’s lens has been a quiet sentinel to the visceral cadence of punk’s most incendiary moments. Equipped with her steadfast Pentax K1000, she infiltrated the recesses of L.A.’s volatile punk scene in the ’80s, immortalizing untamed fragments of chaos with bands like Black Flag and The Misfits. Her narrative is one of subversive resilience, an ode to the DIY ethos and the process of turning subculture moments into indelible history. In this dialogue with Underground England, Marla unveils her journey through the anarchic heart of punk, capturing the frenetic, unvarnished pulse of a movement that remains defiantly unextinguished.
You started documenting the LA punk scene in the early ‘80s, which was a significant moment in music history. Could you tell us how a teenage Marla Watson, with just a Pentax K1000 and a makeshift press pass, found herself standing onstage with bands like Black Flag and The Misfits? What initially drew you to this scene, and how has that passion evolved over the years? What was the atmosphere like during those early shows?
This is three questions in one. Teenage Marla had been going to punk shows since high school, and in college, she bought her first camera—a Pentax K1000. The K1000 was very popular among young punk photographers because it retailed for $99.99, which was a bargain-basement price for a camera back then. Also, it was an entry-level camera. It was all manual and had an internal meter, making it fairly easy to learn how to use with little or no photography training. Standing on stage with the bands was relatively easy at the time. If you look in the background of many of my photos, you’ll see the stage often packed with people. There were really no rules—no photo pit, no barricade, and security was often just other punks.
We didn’t have cameras in our pockets like we do now, so photographers (and in the very rare case, videographers) were always welcomed at punk-run shows. Being on stage was great! Most of the photographers knew each other and were social. There were always other female photographers, too. The thing about punk photography (or any music photography, I suppose) is knowing the band’s music. Since we had to wait a minute between shots for our flash to recharge, you really had to anticipate what the band was going to do next. The only way to do that was to know their music and, perhaps, have seen them before.
The first time I saw the Misfits, I knew all their songs, but we were on this tiny, low stage in a little club. We were on the side of the stage, and Doyle was about a foot from my camera lens. I have a lot of up-close and personal shots of him, where you can see the sweat dripping from his pores. But because he was (and still is) such a beast of a man, I had to anticipate when he might take a step back so I could get photos of the rest of the band. Sometimes a club was so crowded that you couldn’t move from your spot, so you did your best. These early hardcore shows had an atmosphere of grime, smoke, and danger. Nothing about punk was ever meant to be polished and shiny.
In My Punk Rock Life, you captured intimate moments with bands like Social Distortion, Minor Threat, and The Dead Kennedys. Is there a particular shot or moment from that era that stands out to you as especially meaningful or emblematic of the punk spirit?
I have about five of my favourite shots that evoke a strong emotional response when I look at them. My favourites include my shot of Doyle and Jay Bentley at a Misfits show, and the photo of Lee Ving (Fear) on the cover of my book with the bloody hand—talk about anticipating a moment! I also have a Dead Kennedys photo of Jello leaning back into the crowd that I really love. I’m drawn to photos that capture the intensity of the moment.
Your book includes photos from venues like Cathay de Grande and overseas gigs in London and Leeds. How did the energy of the LA punk scene compare to what you saw in the UK? Was there a difference in the way punk was experienced across these cities?
It was really hard to beat what was happening in Los Angeles at the time. By the time I got to England, the L.A. scene had truly exploded. So many kids from the suburbs had joined, and the numbers were really swelling. Shows started becoming much more dangerous for us photographers. I was so excited to be in England, the motherland of punk rock. The exchange rate was almost 1:1 back then, and I bought myself a leather jacket for around 30 pounds. I went to as many shows as I could.
At the time, I had just had an article published in Punk Lives! and we were discussing the possibility of me contributing more. I remember the club shows in London being less crowded. Although some people in SoCal sported large, spiky mohawks and liberty spikes, this was much more prevalent in England. I’ll never forget the punks hanging around tourist spots, charging a quid to have their picture taken. I wish I hadn’t been so cheap - I’d love to have those photos now.
You mentioned that punk rock was your salvation as a “weird” girl in high school. How do you think your personal identity and outsider status influenced your photography? Were there moments when you felt the camera was not just documenting the scene, but also giving you a voice within it?
Most definitely! As a super shy person, the camera was both my mask and, later, my voice. It gave me access to all these great shows, allowing me to hide behind the lens without having to socialize or feel awkward around new people. I could simply observe from behind the camera. I wish I had been more outgoing, like I am today, but that came with many years of personal growth. I think finally publishing My Punk Rock Life, a title that had floated around in my head for decades, was when I truly found my voice as a documentarian.
One striking photo in your collection is Jay Bentley of Bad Religion making peace with Doyle Wolfgang Von Frankenstein of The Misfits in 1982. Punk was known for its confrontational nature, but what role did moments like this play in shaping the community? How did you see relationships evolve between the bands behind the scenes?
This photo is the only punk image that hangs in my office at work (day job). I recently spoke with Jay Bentley about it. We had both forgotten how the incident in the photo came about, but someone’s comment jogged my memory. As I mentioned before, the stage at this club was tiny—probably about 6 feet deep and only 8 inches high. The audience was practically on top of the band. Jay, likely wasted at the time, had Doyle leaning over into his face with the infamous devil lock right in front of him. Jay did what everyone wanted to do but either weren’t brave or drunk enough to try—he tugged on the devil lock! Ha ha! That was it. Earlier that year, Doyle had beaten some kid senseless in San Francisco, but he showed restraint with Jay, and the incident didn’t escalate. I was standing right next to Doyle and Jay, so I managed to capture this incredible photo.
As for band relationships in L.A., many punk bands were either associated with or in gangs, and a lot of them didn’t like each other at all. The gangs were hardcore and violent. As a photographer, I had access to the different punk gangs and their respective bands, but as a female, I thought the gangs were ridiculous - just another example of how territorial and violent men can be toward each other.
Your photos remained untouched for nearly 40 years before you decided to share them with the world. How did the process of revisiting these images feel after so much time had passed? Did the stories or emotions behind certain photos change for you over the years?
When I began scanning my photos, I had no idea what I might discover. I had always known which photos were my favourites. Back then, you would get a proof sheet and use a loupe to magnify the image to decide if you wanted to enlarge it. Since everything associated with photography has always been expensive, and the results weren’t instantaneous, you only printed a select few. While scanning my photos digitally, I found some new ones I never knew I had. For example, I didn’t remember that I had photos of the Descendents. At the time, they were an opening band, and I usually didn’t have enough film to shoot all the openers, but I shot the Descendents at three different shows! I also hadn’t realized how much I liked Bad Religion until I found negatives of them from several shows.
You’ve mentioned that the punk scene was 100% DIY, with bands, fans, and photographers all working together. Do you think this DIY ethic still resonates in today’s music and art scenes? How do you view your role in helping to preserve this history, especially through projects like My Punk Rock Life and your collaboration with The Punk Rock Museum?
I’ve been DIY my whole life—mostly out of necessity, but also because I like to have artistic control over my work. I also despise “the man” and never wanted to be part of the capitalist world. This is probably why I rarely get paid for my work. The Punk Rock Museum has been incredible; the entire place is DIY. Fat Mike is the most DIY person I’ve ever met, and I have so much respect for him. He found a way to have complete creative control over his work and turned that into a fortune. I begrudge him nothing.
The best part is that Fat Mike is so proud of what he’s built in Las Vegas. He and his co-founders have truly created a museum that represents the punk rock scene from its inception to the present day. Next year—or maybe the year after—marks the 50th anniversary of punk, depending on when and where you think punk started. I’m in my early 60s, and others who were around before me are pushing 70 or even 80. Despite our best efforts, no one lives forever. Someday, we’ll all be gone, and all that will remain are the photos and artifacts to tell our story. So many of our peers have passed away, and it’s nice that The Punk Rock Museum can tell their stories.
The Punk Rock Museum is really well done. Any preconceived notion that punk rock doesn’t belong in a museum is misguided. The Punk Rock Museum is 100 times better than anything you could imagine. I love being a part of it, and I’m very proud to have my photos on display.
Finally, for those new to the alternative music scene or looking to get involved, what advice or wisdom would you impart to help them find their place and thrive within this community?
If it’s a new form of music or an underground scene yet to be discovered by the masses, enjoy it while it lasts—because odds are it won’t stay underground forever. If you love the music and want to be a part of it, start a band, take photos, create a fanzine, start an indie record label, manage a band, or just enjoy the music! That’s what we did. Nobody in a punk band from the 1970s or 80s ever thought they’d still be playing shows 40-50 years later. That’s a pretty storied career
Last weekend, I went to Punk in Drublic and the last three NOFX shows. I vaguely remember them from the 80s but never imagined they’d have a 40-year career. Instead of playing for 3 people at the Cathay de Grande or 15 people at Fender’s, they had thousands of people in the crowd—and it was like that in every city they played all over the world! After the first wave of L.A. punk, the consensus among those punks was that punk was dead. They started it, and hardcore ended it. “Another nail in the coffin,” they would say. But punk is not dead, and it never has been. Have you seen the punk scene in Indonesia? It’s insane
Yes, punk has become a bit more palatable for the masses, but there are still bands that start out as three high school kids in a garage learning to play. I also love how many young women are into punk now—it’s great! Women, especially in the U.S., have a lot to be angry about. In punk rock, anger leads to great music. Rock on, ladies, rock on.
Find out more about Marla Watson at mypunkrocklifephotography
And you can buy Marla’s brilliant book here.
You can read the full interview here: https://underground-england.com/an-interview-with-marla-watson-a-punk-rock-photographer-and-documentarian/
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