I lived in Russellville in ’87-’88, and saw quite a few great gigs in Little Rock and Fayetteville. Since punks were so few and far between (literally) down there at the time, people were really committed to it and would travel long distances to hang with like-minded folks (like me and a couple friends, who would regularly drive up to 3 hours just to see a gig). My favorite show moment was when Dag Nasty played the basement of an armory in Fayetteville and a couple of cowboys showed up to start shit with the punks. They had the hats, the boots, the mustaches — the works. After about half a song of these pricks shoving people around in the pit, the crowd suddenly massed together, picked these jerkoffs up of the ground, carried them to the door, and threw them out. It was sweet. The band were laughing so hard they had to stop the song and start up again after they composed themselves.
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