By Dave Acosta / Special to El Paso Matters
In “Chuco Punk: Sonic Insurgency in El Paso,” author Tara López documents the punk movement that grew out of the garages, backyards and neighborhoods of 1990s El Paso.
The book, released last year, is the latest selection of the El Paso Matters Book Club. It focuses on the city’s fiercely DIY music scene and the often-overlooked role of Chicanx youth, women and working-class families.
Now, the people behind that scene reflect on the community they built and the culture they created — one that still resonates decades later.
A family affair
More than just loud music and rebellion, El Paso’s punk scene was rooted in support — often from unexpected sources. Parents opened up their homes for shows, cooked for touring bands and let them crash on floors and couches, and pushed their kids to take the music seriously.
Jesse Youngblood, who played in the band Faction X and booked shows, had plenty of help from his mother, Patricia Warren. A trained vocalist and guitarist who performed at bars and lounges in El Paso in the 1980s, Warren was just trying to help her son and his friends pursue their dreams.
Youngblood spoke to López as she researched the El Paso punk scene for her book. Youngblood will participate in a roundtable discussion along with López and artist/musician Lindy Hernandez during the El Paso Matters Pages & Pints Festival on Saturday, June 28, at Old Sheepdog Brewery, 3900 Rosa Ave.
El Paso Matters spoke to Youngblood, Warren and others about the era, which will be brought back to life during the festival – although they may argue it never died.
Jesse Youngblood: “What my mom did is she brought structure. Us kids had the idea, but it was hard being teenagers. Having an adult believe in what we were doing helped tremendously.”
Patricia Warren: “I was so impressed (by the bands), it was like heaven. It was the best thing I ever did in my life. Watching those kids, the happiness, energy. We had 150-200 kids coming out to shows. At first, punk sounded like torture. But watching those kids — it was heaven.”
Erica Ortegon and Hernandez are longtime friends who grew up together in the Lower Valley. They started hosting shows in the backyards of their families’ homes as teenagers. Ortegon’s home became affectionately known as the Arboleda House, shorthand for the makeshift venue’s location on Arboleda Drive, just north of North Loop Drive.
Ortegon: “That first show was at my house, was for my birthday. We just asked bands to play. After that, bands just kept asking to play there. My mom was cool about it. We could go all night without the cops showing up — as long as it was a weekend.”
A citywide network, built from scratch
Without the internet or major venues, kids connected through flyers, phone calls and sheer determination. Every side of town had a voice, and the city’s isolation fostered creativity.
Youngblood: “We booked bands out of Book Your Own Fucking Life (a guide published by the influential zine, ‘Maximum Rocknroll,’ that listed DIY record labels, bands and venues), passed out flyers at the mall, and copied tapes by hand. We’d drop them off at Headstand and skate back to see if we sold any.”
Ortegon: We were booking local bands like Sicteens and the Veronicas in our backyards. It was usually other people booking out-of-town bands. People from all over the city would show up.
Hernandez: “We all became one big family. There were people from every high school in El Paso. That’s what means the most — we still talk.”
Mothers, sisters, zines and safe spaces
Far from passive observers, women in the scene shaped the culture from the inside out — as organizers, musicians, documentarians and caretakers.
López: “Women were doing zines, playing in bands, hosting shows. And they were the moms and grandmas who let bands crash on their couches. That’s the network that held it all together.”
Ortegon: I didn’t feel pushed aside. We were united. Lindsey and I even started a band — At first we were called The Cheeseballs and, later, the Shimpies.”
Hernandez: “That DIY spirit — that was everything.”
Warren: “(The only problem I ever ran into) was sometimes the parents. The parents would want their kids’ bands to get paid. I would invite the parents to shows so they could see what it was about, and then they would be cool. We never made over a couple hundred dollars. Enough to pay for gas and pay for food for the bands.”
A sense of belonging in a time of judgment
For many, punk offered more than music — it was an identity, a defense against conformity, and a sanctuary from the pressures of gangs, school or social norms.
Youngblood: “It gave us a sense of belonging and confidence. We weren’t jocks or gang members. It was something else entirely.”
Ortegon: “People looked at us like a freak show back then. Now, grandmas have dyed hair. It’s wild. I work at a private school and thought I’d have to cover my tattoos — then I saw the parents covered, too.”
Warren: “I don’t think I realized (what these kids were up against) until we got kicked out of Hamburger Hut after a show. We had the kids with the mohawks and they asked us to leave. You have to remember the kids were young.”
Legacy, resilience and cultural power
“Chuco Punk” reconnected scene members and validated their experiences — reminding them that what they built mattered. Their impact is still felt in how they live, work and create today.
Hernandez: “We had our own bands, our own labels, our own shows. It was citywide. It was everyone. I got my first tattoo at the Arboleda House using a guitar string as a needle. Everything was DIY.”
Ortegon: “The book made me realize we built something special. It shaped my values. Music is still my life.”
López: “I tried to be as accountable as I could and honor (the stories). There’s a quote from Isaac Brock from Modest Mouse, he said ‘There’s a point at the end of any song you have to end and hope the next thing you do answers the question of the previous work.’ How can you write about punk without talking about women or people of color? I would never write about the scene in Albuquerque because of my personal experiences in that scene. The nicest people in that scene were transplants from El Paso. I tried to focus on El Pasoans’ stories and bring in the history – because it’s a really deep history and one that is shared between El Paso and New Mexico.”
The post El Paso’s punk scene lives on through voices in ‘Chuco Punk’ appeared first on El Paso Matters.
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