{"id":7568,"date":"2026-04-01T12:52:45","date_gmt":"2026-04-01T11:52:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/shindig-magazine.com\/?p=7568"},"modified":"2026-04-01T14:06:33","modified_gmt":"2026-04-01T13:06:33","slug":"shindig-174-dmz","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/shindig-magazine.com\/?p=7568","title":{"rendered":"Shindig! #174 \u2013 DMZ"},"content":{"rendered":"

In 1977, DMZ <\/strong>looked<\/strong> poised to dominate the <\/strong>entire punk <\/strong>scene worldwide. But their Sire Records debut <\/strong>took too long and <\/strong>failed to capture their explosive live mania. <\/strong><\/p>\n

TIM STEGALL looks at how newly surfaced pre-production tapes might have made a better <\/strong>impression<\/strong><\/p>\n

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\u201cI can\u2019t really sum up what makes them great, other than that Jeff has the world\u2019s greatest sense of exactly what needs to be played and never plays anything else,\u201d veteran Boston rock journalist Brett Milano once wrote about DMZ, his city\u2019s flagship mid-70s punk-rock band, fronted by volatile singer\/keyboardist Jeff \u2018Mono Mann\u2019 Conolly. \u201cThe band just embodies that primal spirit that is rock \u2019n\u2019 roll.\u201d For his part, Conolly, whose nickname derived from his penchant for collecting monophonic records, was simultaneously clear and<\/em> disingenuous in describing his contributions to DMZ when speaking to San Francisco writer and radio DJ Howie Klein in 1978. “I’m just lookin’ for something to make DMZ sound good,\u201d he shrugged. \u201cNo message. We want people to dance when we play. We’re looking for a good beat.\u201d<\/p>\n