6 Reasons Why John Waters Loves Hosting Mosswood Meltdown
John Waters has been Mosswood Meltdown’s formidably filthy emcee for more than a decade — a legendary subversive whose gravitas fits the Oakland fest’s particular vibe.
“I like punks; they’re my people, I would feel the most comfortable in the punk world than any other minority world,” the filmmaker, author, comedian and all-around trash icon tells KQED. “I look forward to it every year.”
Waters — who keeps an apartment in San Francisco but calls the East Coast home — returns to the Mosswood stage once again July 19 and 20. The 79-year-old will helm the festival stage, telling jokes and stories as he introduces headliners Devo, Osees, the Exploding Hearts and Bratmobile, as well as festival favorites and friends like Shannon and the Clams.
“The audience at Mosswood Meltdown shares John’s sense of humor for the arcane,” says festival co-founder Marc Ribak, who notes that he and his wife Amy Carver watched Pink Flamingos on their first date. “John fully embraces the Mosswood Meltdown audience as well. And that’s exactly why he is the quintessential part of [the festival].”
The Clams singer/bassist Shannon Shaw is quick to affirm Waters’ punk cred. “Of course John is punk!!!!” she enthused via email. “He’s the lantern we all flutter to. He understands the fringes of society cuz he lives there! He has made it a place to be celebrated and have fun and come together.”
Waters might be the oldest (but certainly not crustiest) punk on stage, but he feels right at home. The forever-delinquent and master of cult madness recounts the many reasons why he loves Mosswood Meltdown — from senior citizen gutter punks to seeing his friends starstruck.
John Waters loves to up the punx
Besides the cash and an affinity for the Bay’s cooler summers, Waters has hosted Mosswood Meltdown (and, formerly, Burger Boogaloo) nearly a dozen times simply because he loves punks.
“They’re very opinionated; they love each other and kind of hate everybody else,” Waters says. “They used to stage dive, but they’re too heavy now.”
Punk humor aside, Mosswood Meltdown “really has a great attitude,” he says. Whether you’re a hardcore kid or an aging punk, Waters sees you.
“Punks their whole life have been told they look terrible, ‘Why would you act like that?’” Waters reflects. “So they love to be together and celebrate their behavior that they always loved doing … They all used to be juvenile delinquents, but now they’re celebrated as adult delinquents.”
John Waters does it for the children
While Mosswood Meltdown is known to traffic in legends, popular punk and punk-adjacent groups, and highly anticipated reunions, the fest also features up-and-comers. Waters is all for it — particularly as a recruiting tool.
“They say gay people recruit; we punks really recruit,” he says. “It’s like, ‘There’s one! Get that kid!’ because we need young ones so we can suck their blood out and get it to Iggy Pop so he can live forever.”
Mosswood is an all-ages festival where you’re as likely to glimpse a 60-something punk in the pit as you are a Gen Xer who saw Crimpshrine at Gilman back when. Audiencegoers include young skinheads, tough tweens in baby Docs and even a few normies with good taste.
According to Waters, it’s particularly important for young people to carry on the torch. “Eventually all the punk groups are going to be like the Drifters now, where none of them are the original people,” he says. “Maybe one year we’ll have all cover punks.”
When asked what punk icon he would want to cover in a fictitious band, Waters doesn’t miss a beat: GG Allin.
Mosswood brings up good memories
Waters has his favored Bay haunts: the vintage pulp paperback purveyors Kayo Books; Oakland’s Thee Stork Club, which he helped re-open and where he held a 2024 birthday celebration/storytelling performance; and the Great American Music Hall, host to his annual “A John Waters Christmas” show. But being at Mosswood reminds him of one of one of his old-time locales — the long-shuttered Deaf Club on Valencia.
“That was the first punk place in San Francisco I hung out,” Waters says of the deaf community center where bands like The Offs, the Avengers and the Dead Kennedys played for 18 legendary months. “It was the best punk club ever.”
The scene sounds too strange to be real, more fit of one of the off-kilter universes in Waters’ own films. Maybe there’s a Deaf Club in the world of Cry Baby or A Dirty Shame. “It didn’t last long because the neighbors really hated it,” Waters recalls. “It was too good to last forever.”
He gets to hang with his friends
After all his years at Mosswood, Waters has developed deep friendships in the scene. He’s gotten to know festival founders Marc and Amy, and is friends with Shannon Shaw “in real life.” He counts artist and Hunx and His Punx frontman Seth Bogart as a friend; the two will be selling collaborative merch at this year’s Mosswood for the first time.
“I’ve gotten to know people,” Waters says of his longstanding friendships. “Oakland is a little bit like Baltimore in some ways, but I feel at home there.”
John Waters actually watches the bands
In proper (or rather, common) punk fashion, there’s no fancy backstage area at the festival where Waters can sequester himself. And he wouldn’t want to anyway. When he’s not prepping for his host duties, he’s watching performers.
He reels off a list of favorites: Amyl and the Sniffers, the Damned, “of course Iggy, who was in Cry Baby,” crowd-pleasers like Devo and the Jesus and Mary Chain. “The Linda Lindas, when they were, like, punk rock children — that was great,” Waters says. Even after over a decade as host, Waters says he remains amazed at the freshness and confidence of the groups that play Mosswood.
Beyond the receptive audience showing up for their favorite acts, the performers themselves show up for their friends and heroes. Backstage can be something of a love-in.
“Famous people in the punk rock world are just as interested to meet other famous punk rock groups. They’re starstruck too, and I like to see that,” Waters says. “No one acts like a superstar, but they all act like they’re impressed with each other.”
Though he won’t name names from the Mosswood roster (Waters may have put the filthiest people alive on screen, but he knows how to keep their secrets), this particular scene shows up for each other, he says — with the earnestness of Tracy Turnblad.
The Mosswood crowd proves you’re never too old to be punk
“These are the kind of rock stars that impress me,” Waters says. “They’ve somehow been able to survive, especially the older ones, and be angry and crazy and not look silly or pitiful. When you have an extreme style when you’re young, it’s really hard to figure out how to finesse that as you get older, but it does very well there.”
But, Waters warns, “You can also be cringy if you try to act young when you’re 90. Sometimes you are too old to pogo dance.” Pausing, he quickly reevaluates his dance politics: “Actually, that would be alright. You sometimes are too old to do the funky chicken at a wedding, but you’re never too old to pogo.”
Waters envisions a senior slam dance at a retirement community. “Sometimes the bands that are playing here are in retirement communities … or they could be,” he says. The pit at Waters’ Home for Elder Punks would be slow-moving, only for those over age 80 and with good insurance. He muses, “Their bones are brittle, so you better catch them when they stage dive!”