Punk venue 924 Gilman Street is notorious for two things, both equally insidious in thwarting the average person from attending shows there: a horrible sound system and an overwhelming elitist vibe from the staff. Pinhead Gunpowder, who recently performed at Gilman for the first time in 15 years on Feb. 10 (read the review here), proved that while a new sound system can work wonders, the off-putting vibe of the staff is harder to change.

On the surface, the show was a raging success. Fans flooded in for what was clearly the biggest show for Gilman in years, and from what I saw, almost everyone left with a smile. Every band that performed, not just the headlining super group, put on a fantastic show. But from talking with various people involved in the club, I knew not everyone was tapping their toes.

Weeks before the show, the band - which not only includes Billie Joe Armstrong, but also Green Day's tour manager, Bill Schneider, and their touring second guitarist, Jason White - offered to donate money to the club. Instead, Gilman told the group that a new sound system would be the best way to help, and it would also make the sound better for their show. The band immediately obliged by installing beautiful new JVC speakers, and later provided a new mixing board as well. According to the club, the band instigated the donation on their own and was not encouraged to make one.

I could hear every word of every song - certainly a new phenomenon for a show at Gilman. Despite a request from Armstrong before starting their set for everyone to put away their digital cameras ("If they weren't here, fuck 'em!"), fans still recorded some songs and posted them on YouTube (including the clip above).

While Armstrong may not be happy, the videos will prove one thing to anyone who watches: Gilman's new sound system rivals that in some larger venues in the Bay Area.

The show drew hundreds of people, reunited old friends, and gave young Green Day fans a priceless taste of DIY punk culture. But for some, this still was not enough to make the show worthwhile. Having a mainstream celebrity grace Gilman's stage flexed the politics of everyone at the club, but struck to the core of a few.

Before the show, which started at 5 p.m., the club held an electronics swap meet. People set up tables with various music equipment and electronics to sell or trade, much like any other flea market. While the swap was winding down and a line for the concert had already wrapped around the block, the person who set-up both the swap meet and booked the show told me, "Make sure to mention in your story that we're shutting down this awesome DIY thing so that basically Green Day can come play."

This came from the person who booked the show, so obviously he saw the positive side of having the group perform. But I was shocked to hear that despite everything, even after the group provided a brand new sound system to the venue, someone could have such negative feelings about the event.

Weeks earlier, I had touched base with Robert Eggplant, another one of the club's promoters, and although he did not agree with Armstrong's career choices, he recognized the benefit of holding the show. Eggplant, who attended high school with the Green Day vocalist decades ago, has continuously stayed involved in the East Bay punk scene. After the performance, he said that although the setting and the crowd was not perfect, he enjoyed seeing old friends coming out to Gilman.

Eggplant, 35, was one of the only people at the club who was receptive to having the Guardian cover the concert. Others were skeptical and claimed that the local press ignores the club except when a famous person steps on the stage. But Eggplant said that he fondly remembers a time years back when the Berkeley Police were videotaping kids outside Gilman, and the Guardian thoroughly reported on the harassment and helped make it stop.

From his experience in the all-volunteer environment, Eggplant said, people tend to take on too much and become overinvolved in the scene. "We're known for having a stressed-out, unfriendly attitude," he said on the night of the show. "We often get [volunteers] that are way more committed than they should be. They take it too seriously sometimes."