In this entry, Craig Lewis turns to COLEMAN, one of Boston’s most singular and unsettling hardcore bands, using their music as a way to remember his friend George Czernetzky and confront the uneven lines between survival, loss, and recognition.
What unfolds is less a band history than a reckoning with addiction, forced medication, grief, and the quiet absence of applause for those who fight to stay alive outside narratives society finds comfortable.
In 1991, or maybe even earlier, I met a guy named George Czernetzky. I might be spelling his last name wrong. George was straight edge. I’m the person who introduced him to weed. In the end, as far as I was aware; my old friend died from a heroin overdose; but then I learned that I was wrong and I was corrected by someone who likely knows better than me. My old friend died from a stroke; which is something that I think can happen to me as well.
Maybe for some people, it’s true that marijuana can be a gateway drug. I prefer to live in reality and speak unpleasant truths if it can result in something good transpiring. I was prescribed cannabis by a doctor to help me heal and it was successful.
The last time I saw George was when he attended one of the ‘Punk Rock, Mental Health and Recovery’ talks that I was giving back in Boston in the early 2010s. He attended my talk in Jamaica Plain that was hosted by one of Boston’s greatest DIY organizers named Dan Shea. I have thought about writing about George and his band, Coleman, for years; and today, December 20th, 2025 is the day that it got done. George was my friend and I miss him.
I remember the first time I saw COLEMAN play. I thought to myself “this can’t be a real band”. It’s not an insult, on the contrary; I was in awe. Most people never saw a band like COLEMAN play before; myself included.
It is no secret that I was a walking dead person throughout the 90s and 2000s up until I fled the scene of the crimes of my life; Massachusetts. It’s always acceptable for people who have struggled with alcoholism or opioid addiction, once they choose to live a life of recovery to be embraced and applauded by others for their choice. However, unlike people who choose to pour alcohol down their throat and unlike people who choose to inject an opioid into their bloodstream; I was forced to ingest harmful drugs. I didn’t want to do it and I didn’t like how it made me feel. I was not given a choice. I was forced to be dependent on addictive substances that made me sick.
I attest to the reality that nobody applauds a person who escapes forced psychiatric drugging. We don’t get a round of applause; we receive shame. Fuck everybody who didn’t treat me right.
I speak these truths because George was my friend and it was very hard for me to know if I had real friends or what the fuck was going on because I was always under the influence of toxic psychotropic drugs.
I’m certain that there are people who read these blogs that I write who say to themselves, ‘this fucking crazy Crusty Craig idiot is talking about this bullshit that we’ve all heard him talk about a hundred times.’
Tell that to George.
It’s painful for me because most of the people who accepted me and who knew a little bit about my story enough to have true empathy for me are dead. And most of them are dead from overdoses.
Why is it that the people who have been hurt the most are often the ones who are most compassionate to those who are broken?
Why are so many of my friends dead and why are so many of your friends dead; and why am I still alive?
10 years ago when I finally escaped the forced chemical addiction; I did not receive a round of applause. In the eyes of society, my choice to no longer put dangerous substances into my body is viewed down upon. Of course after 28 years, I’m going to struggle with detoxing myself from addictive substances.
What’s the difference between heroin and alcohol and the substances that I had to detox from in order to live a quality life?
So, today when I listened to the COLEMAN side of their split record with Three Studies For a Crucifixion; all the feelings came back remembering, not just how witnessing COLEMAN playing live made me feel, it also reminded me of losing my dear friend George. It also reminded me that there was no round of applause for my self-preserving action.
George died; I lived.
There are a lot of people like George out there who are no longer with us and there are a lot of people like me out there who are no longer with us; and that is why that idiot Crazy Crusty Craig always talks about what happened to him.
There are some people like me out there who you, the reader, may either currently know or once knew, who had or have a similar situation as I did. I refuse to be silent because if by speaking these truths; one person with a story similar to mine, will feel less alone and maybe a tiny bit more empowered; that helps me help myself.
Jackie, who was the singer of COLEMAN, is a spectacular human being. I know that she had to survive something awful and painful and potentially deadly and that singing in COLEMAN helped her hold on to being alive. I have nothing but respect for her. And I hope that wherever she is today that she is doing great and continuing to bless the world with the wisdom that she has been forced to learn by choosing to, not just survive; but to thrive.
Morgan, the drummer; he was always the kid because he was younger than everyone else. Morgan is a beautiful person. The power of Morgan’s corazón can be heard in every beat on this record. I hope he’s living a great life.
Coleman is not a normal band. Perhaps most people in Boston these days have no idea who they were. And that’s okay. And it’s my sad honor to make sure that my friend George is remembered for being a person who cared about other people.
George left a daughter behind and I just hope that she’s doing great and that she’s living a beautiful life. Maybe someday she will be able to listen to this COLEMAN record and know that her father was great.
George and I would often joke with each other and say: “Don’t Forget the Struggle, Don’t Forget the Streets’.
Sing along and celebrate the nice memories of all your friends that aren’t here. It is odd and beautiful that the chorus of this song can bring a beautiful tear to your eye.
I hope everyone reading this will choose to do something kind that makes the life of another person easier.
And I can almost guarantee you that if you are struggling at this moment, and if you choose to be nice or kind or benevolent to another person, or to yourself, or to an animal, that you will be one step closer to being okay. I hate the fact that I know that this is true; but that I love the fact that it is true.
Thank you to Robin Goodhue for helping me correctly honor the life of our old friend George. Robin played guitar on the first recordings that were made by COLEMAN and as far as I understand, he contributed to some of the songs that COLEMAN recorded later on. I now feel compelled to write an honor blog for DEFCON 4.
Listen to the Coleman/Three Studies For a Crucifixion split 12, released in 1995 by The Mountain Collective For Independent Artists, Ltd.:
And here is a link where you can learn the details about what Crazy Crusty Craig did with all the bad things and bad people that he left behind, when he left the country of his birth to seek a better life.
And as always, check out the “You’re Crazy” Punks in Recovery anthology book series here.
Craig Lewis
Crusty Craig “Gregorio” Lewis is a longtime contributor to IDIOTEQ. Gregorio is a punk rocker from the United States, living in México, and after traveling to forty countries around the world giving talks and workshops on how he has Survived the Impossible, both professionally and for the Punx, he has been living in his mountain pueblo for more than six years. Contact Gregorio directly at [email protected] and check out his numerous published books, at Sanity is a Full-Time Job at sanityisafulltimejob.org
