On This Date - The Jam (w. Tuff Darts) at CBGB's Second Avenue Theater

An early, amazing punk show at a now legendary venue.

I don’t remember who got the tickets or how we got them. I do remember driving to the show, a passenger in Neil’s little Pontiac Sunbird, as he tailgated Dave's massive Buick land-shark, Pam riding shotgun. Neil and I were smoking weed, which definitely altered his perception; when Dave braked, Neil didn’t. He tapped Dave’s bumper, busting a headlight on his own car while Dave’s tank emerged without a scratch. (Neil was rich; he didn’t care.)

My actual stub.

The venue was the old Anderson Theater, hastily rebranded by Hilly Kristal as the CBGB Second Avenue Theater.

The place had history: opened in 1926 as The Public Theater, later hosting Yiddish vaudeville, then operating for years as the Antillas, a Spanish-language cinema. It resurfaced in the ’50s as the Anderson Theater, and by late 1977, Kristal had taken it over for a short, glorious run of punk shows. The grand reopening stretched five nights—December 27–31—with a lineup that today looks downright mythic: Talking Heads, The Shirts, Tuff Darts, The Dead Boys, The Dictators, The New Luna Band, and three straight nights of Patti Smith Group with Richard Hell and the Voidoids. Springsteen even dropped in unannounced. By 1979 it was all over. I’m grateful I caught it during that brief window when lightning struck there.

The program

The opening acts that night look odd on the surface, but were perfectly of the era. Jah Malla, a reggae outfit, went on first; because UK punks treated reggae like gospel, the New York crowd actually behaved and gave them respect. Next came Tuff Darts, who tore through a few songs including their minor hit “(Your Love Is Like) Nuclear Waste.” Their guitarist smashed his guitar at the end, but the audience barely reacted. This was New York, not Topeka. And besides, the rabid fans of The Who in our little quartet—Pam, Dave, and me—had seen guitar-smashing before breakfast.

We were buzzing with anticipation, sitting in the house lights. By then I was already a devoted Jam fan. I had their first album, and between Neil and me, we owned most of the singles. This Is the Modern World had come out just four months earlier, and I’d practically worn the grooves smooth.

Then, suddenly, The Jam walked out—house lights still blazing. Three immaculate mods in matching camel suits, Weller and Foxton holding matching blonde Rickenbackers. They opened with the title track, the iconic five-note intro exploding out of the speakers. Weller launched himself into the air like Pete Townshend on steroids. Pam screamed, put her hands up to her face, and then started crying, and honestly, I understood the impulse. You knew instantly you were witnessing something special. These weren’t scruffy garage punks bashing out some tuneless chords; this was a band with purpose, and they played like it.

A shot from the concert that night. (Found online; not taken by me.)

The set leaned heavily on the new album, of course. This was only their second record; it’s not like they had a vast back catalog. They ripped through “London Traffic,” “I Need You (For Someone),” “The Combine,” “Standards,” and “London Girl,” then shifted into the single “News of the World,” which I owned on 45. They followed with “In the Street Today,” then dipped back to their first album In the City for “Sounds From the Street” and “Bricks and Mortar.” After “All Around the World,” they hit the debut album’s title track—“In the City,” with that killer riff the Sex Pistols shamelessly lifted for “Holidays in the Sun.” They closed the set proper with “Carnaby Street,” the B-side to “All Around the World,” a non-LP track we mega-fans like to drool over.

The crowd demanded an encore. Weller shrugged and announced they’d run out of songs, so they were going to play “The Modern World” again—and they did, with the same ferocity as the opener (minus the Townshend leap).

The night remains a vivid snapshot of a young, hungry band in transition. They were already gaining real momentum, and here they were, playing to a New York scene that was evolving just as quickly. We all know the path The Jam went on to carve. But on that night, it felt like we were part of something still forming: mod revival, punk, whatever label history eventually stuck on it. It was one of the best nights of my youth, and I’m just grateful I was there.