In the summer of 1981, SS Decontrol emerged in Boston with Barile on guitar, Springa as the singer, Sciarappa on bass, and Foley handling drums.
Even though only Foley knew how to play an instrument before they started, they pushed forward and borrowed money from Barile’s parents to create their first album, The Kids Will Have Their Say, in 1982. To release it, Barile founded Xclaim! Records. Ian MacKaye loved the album so much that he suggested a joint release with Dischord—marking a milestone as it was the first full-length project by a band outside D.C. on that label.
The initial batch of 1,900 copies vanished quickly within just three months. Instead of basking in newfound fame or success within hardcore music circles, Barile paid back his parents and welcomed Francois Levesque as a second guitarist. They then focused on crafting their next record: the Get It Away EP in 1983. By day, Barile worked building jet engine parts; by night, he wrote songs about unity and living clean without smoking or drinking—messages that resonated deeply with fans of hardcore music when Get It Away became iconic.
As time marched on and music trends shifted like sand dunes underfoot—so did SS Decontrol’s sound morph into something heavier akin to metal while experimenting with wild guitar solos. Renaming themselves SSD after signing up with Modern Method in 1984 led them down new paths resulting in releases such as How We Rock EP followed by Break It Up. Yet come November ’85—they called it quits.
Fans sometimes wonder if people ever truly leave behind what defines them; maybe we never really do.
Once SSD disbanded like autumn leaves scattered across sidewalks—a fresh chapter opened for Barile who enrolled at Northeastern University full-time studying mechanical engineering while continuing his job at General Electric during this period too! But guitars were never far from reach because around ’93—with friends beside him—Barile formed Gage: an alt-rock punk band born anew releasing albums including He Will Come, Scissor (1996), plus another titled Silent Movie Type, which came out two years later.
Performing alongside bands like Mighty Mighty Bosstones brought mixed reactions from audiences leaving some coldly indifferent—a stark reminder hauntingly clear: SSD’s legacy loomed large over everything else attempted musically thereafter… “That was kind of a rude awakening,” said Al reflecting candidly upon realizing how difficult gaining even one-tenth popularity compared against past glories would prove futile yet freeing simultaneously… “I realized that I could do anything,” he confessed openly acknowledging no matter how great future creations might be—they wouldn’t change perception forever tied back inexorably toward being simply known always ultimately still just ‘Al from SSD’.
