Crawford, director of the stellar docs Creem and D.C. hardcore history Salad Days, took a deep dive into Keithley’s tenure as singer in seminal hardcore band DOA and how he followed that radical path to activism and politics in his hometown of Burnaby in Canada.
“I’ve always been a fan of DOA and Joe Keithley since first seeing them in 1985 as a kid. Bands like DOA, Dead Kennedys, MDC and others at the time helped educate me about the social issues of the day,” Crawford tells Orlando Weekly.
“Fast-forward to 2018, and we’re living under a divisive administration, which had me feeling a fair amount of despair at the time. I saw a headline about Joe winning his council member seat in his hometown for the Green Party. It was a David and Goliath story that really appealed to me on so many levels. So I approached him about following him along on his reelection campaign in 2022. Win or lose, that would be the film’s arc. I’m grateful to him for saying yes.”
In the 1980s, DOA changed the game in the punk world, making music that was louder, faster, leaner and even more furious than their peers. And hardcore was, arguably, born. The band possibly named the genre with their classic album Hardcore ’81. They threw some of the first hardcore shows with Black Flag, and developed a hard-touring DIY-or-die work ethic that inspired their young American peers.
When no less than Fugazi’s Ian MacKaye says that Keithley “gave a fuck” and Henry Rollins enviously bemoans that DOA’s tours were longer than Black Flag’s, you can take that to the credibility bank.
Keithley and the band genuinely wanted to change the world through music. DOA had a progressive, rather than nihilistic, heart, with a clear throughline to early radical folk music. But for Keithley, after a few decades grinding it out in the punk world, music wouldn’t be enough to work toward the change he wanted to see in society.
He decided to run for city councilor as part of the Green Party, musing,“We usually vote for shitheads, so why not Joey Shithead this time?” Though Keithley says that some of his friends didn’t understand his decision, talking head Duff McKagan — an OG Pacific Northwest punk before his time in Guns N’ Roses — posits that he always thought Keithley would move on to something that would really make a difference.
So while, yes, there is a deep and satisfying archival dive into Keithley’s life as Joey Shithead, Crawford spends as much time following Keithley campaigning, meeting constituents, knocking on doors, attending rallies and trying to enact incremental change on a local level around environmental issues and fair housing.
No doubt some customs ghoul is licking their chops at bagging the man who wrote the song “Fucked Up Ronnie.”
Keithley gave the crew full access to himself, his family and his archives, and it makes for an inspiring story of trying to make the system work for the people and not the donors.
“I was really happy at being the subject of this doc,” Keithley tells Orlando Weekly. “It takes an in-depth look at my 45 years of activism I have done on behalf of regular working people, as they always need somebody to stand up for them and try and make society work for the good of all and not just for the wealthy.”
But as with everything in 2025, there’s a shitty, Trumpy coda that adds some bleak irony to a film that was made as a way of finding hope during Trump 1.
Keithley was supposed to come to the Enzian for one of the FFF screenings to talk about the film and meet fans. But, as Canada is suddenly one of the United States’ mortal enemies see ingly out of nowhere, Keithley’s appearance has been canceled. A wise move, given that Canadian actress Jasmine Mooney was detained inexplicably by ICE for weeks in a detention center, and no doubt some customs enforcement ghoul would be licking their chops at bagging the man who wrote the song “Fucked Up Ronnie.”
It added surreal heft to Keithley talking about obstacles faced by DOA in the film: “People wanted to beat us up, police wanted to harass us, border guards wanted to detain us.”
We can expect to see a lot more of this, as international artists of all types decide to take a pass on the United States, instead of setting themselves up for hostility and capricious harassment from the government of the U.S. (International tourists, too, no doubt). It’s bleak, but it’s a clarion call to action.
“Given the results [of the U.S. elections] and our current political climate, I think this doc has taken on a new sense of urgency — and hope — about the power of grass-roots activism,” says Crawford. “Joe’s motto has always been, ‘Talk minus action equals zero,’ and that’s something I really wanted to explore in the film.”
“We are obviously completely bummed out about the fact that Joey can’t come to the festival this year. However, as a politician in Canada, we understand that he is in a difficult position due to the current issues our two countries are having with one another,” says Tim Anderson, one of the FFF organizers, to OW. “It is my hope that with this screening, the people who come are also moved to make their voices heard.”
We give Keithley the final word, asking him about the viability of punks and artists entering politics in the year of our lord 2025. He remains resolute.
“I would encourage punks, musicians, artists of all types to run for politics, as well as people from different walks of life, such as carpenters, people who run daycares and young people,” Keithley told OW. “Run in politics to help your neighbors, your community, the world, as opposed to running for power and greed.”
Scott Crawford is coming to Enzian Theater for the Wednesday, April 16, screening of Something Better Change at 9:30 p.m. and Joe Keithley will absolutely be there in spirit. And on celluloid.
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This article appears in The 420 Issue 2025.