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By now, some of you may have read account of the series of events online (or in some more trustworthy format), but depending on whether you define yourself as a Goth, Psycho, or Something In-between, Drop Dead II was THE place to be and meant one thing or another to you. DDII promised 3 nights+ of 40+ bands doing what could best be collectively labeled 'Horror Rock.' Considering that Perilous Cheryl and I missed the one day of Horror Rock that was DDI last year at CBGB's, it was time to atone for our sins and kneel at the dark altar...or at least slip in a puddle of PBR in some darkened recess of The Knit' to attain the proper stance.
[High priestess of chaos: Polina Y of NY Decay]
Much that was worthy of worship could be attributed to the efforts of high priestess, festival organizer & promoter of barely-controlled-yet-enjoyable chaos, Polina Y of NY Decay. When I introduced myself as THE Rock-n-Roll Purgatory correspondent, she replied by plantin' a big smeary kiss on me then dashing off. (I noticed she did this with others throughout the 3 nights—I eagerly wait to read your reviews of the event in this magazine as well). Then there was: Greg Bury, who besides being lead gi-tar psycho of NJ's own Speed Crazy, was a major workforce, being responsible for press & promotion; (Pete) Von Erickson (www.vonerickson.com), who besides being full-metal standup-bassman of NYC's own Memphis Morticians, was responsible for props such as the construction of an entire mad scientist's lab on the secondary stage downstairs and general dangly bits (read: fake body parts) decking out The Knitting Factory ala Grand Guignol; and a whole list of others to blame or praise listed on www.nydecay.com.
[How could anyone follow them?!? Six Gun Republic]
[Hellhound newly-sprung from 6-feet under:
The Memphis Morticians]
So it's Friday night then, September 3rd: The first band playin' is an unannounced last-minute replacement which cannot be labeled Goth or Psycho or Something In-between. Just ROCK & ROLL. Six Gun Republic starts the festivities off on such the high note, you wonder how anyone could follow them! I suspect just then that my admission fee paid for the whole gig is already a bargain. Their tribute to recently passed away iron horse icon "Indian Larry" has us already shouting hoarse. It's still early by any bartime, let alone that of NYC and I'm chasing down the bass player to nab a self-titled cd ep (www.sixgunrepublic.com). Next up tho' is The Memphis Morticians (w/the aforementioned Von Erickson). Finally! caught these guys who I've heard so much about. Their lead howler Mike(?) resplendent in teddyboy-ish duds, lurching about like a hellhound newly-sprung from a 6-foot under crate. "Our day begins...when your day ends," reads a sticker of theirs w/nice use of an old George Evans (EC Comics) skeleton cowpoke. Somebody saddle up a hearse and get these guys a ride into your town! (www.memphismorticians.net)
But! can't dawdle. I must run downstairs to the second stage so I don't miss one note of even the soundcheck of a set I promised respect to: RI's finest, Sasquatch & The Sick-A-Billys. What can I say that you don't already know—if, of course, you read THE Man's manifesto in RnRP #14—and if not?!?! Get a back issue immediately before I talk to ya again!) Longtime swankmaster bassman Johnny Custom and latest (& greatest) drummer THEE Miss Natalie (Courville) *meow* aid & abet...a prettier Ron Jeremy...a stronger Jello Biafra...The One & Only SASQUATCH—Who rocks our lameass world so we can all be FREE. His tribute to the Twin Tower victims was probably *only* the 2nd crotch hair torching of that month. Whadya want from sech a goddam saint? OK, a cd entitled Burning Miles of Sin —now, go rip that yellow ribbon magnet off of someone else's pickup (if not yer's) NOW...
Run back upstairs to see Speed Crazy get the first pit going at the festival (NOTHING better than a pit at a psycho gig!), while playing a set even more manic than "usual." Bassist Erica Kozak (THE "Celebrity Crush" of any psycho w/eyes in his skull) twirling a standup twice her size like a baton; Drummer Augie Catarella hurling his manic frame and that of his tom-tom out into the pit; and Tony Perkins stand-in, lead guitarist Greg, crankin' it out—as "usual"...Speed Crazy playing anywhere, anytime, is reason to scrape up the necessary petrol dolero and get to that anywhere, anytime. But right after them, it's time for The Gutter Demons of Montreal, Canada, who made it 'in da house' during The 'Morticians set (not encountering any customs bullshit from immigration on our 'side' on this sortee at least). They play a packed room downstairs in The Lab which we only caught part of due to the fact we HAD to run upstairs and be close & personal to
(And at this point, if you think we did so much running around in a confined space for 3 consecutive nights that you could rename the venue Gold's Gym you'd be correct—but I digress)
[San Diego matinee idols: Deadbolt]
HAD to run upstairs and be close & personal to San Diego matinee idols Deadbolt, who OWN the rights to the claim of "These guys are THE SHIT." Like three refrigerators squeezed into leather vests, Harley & Co. toss out such gems As "Mrs. Valdez" while managing to: 1) Liberally apply AquaNet; 2) Handbathe in sparks from a pocket-held hand-sander; 3) Karate chop panels of press wood (Yer humble correspondent proudly possesses a signed shard); and 4) Manage hecklers with such bon mots as "Hey—I don't tell you how to do your job at the florist!" I have seen Deadbolt and my life, let alone that night, was complete.
But back to Horror Rock: Cult of The Psychic Fetus was probably the only 'goth' band I caught on Friday, yet their approach is more....garagey despite lead Reverend Doom's dead-on (hyuk hyuk) Nosferatu look. Old faves like "Run" were mixed with new toons such as "Funeral Home", delivered in The Rev's sepultural tones, one of the best voices in any rock let alone horror rock. A ghoul-pal in attendance, Miss Amanda Kill (Editrix of Pretty Gothic magazine) asked me what I thought afterwards and I had to happily agree that COTPF was another band that 'lived' up to their legend. We ended the night back in The Lab with Psychocharger...who, clad only in fake(?) blood & jockstraps, provided beefcake for any ladies not enamored of the wan waif set, while also not taking themselves too seriously in their manliness and playing the hits such as "Grave Robbers from Outer Space."
And THAT was only Friday!
[Only Rock-n-Roll Purgatory is patriotic enough to print
this standup tribute to the Twin Towers—salute!]
Saturday night, September 4th: Cruising down back into The City while coastin' on the wavy gravy laid down by Rex on WFMU 91.1's "Fools' Paradise" show seems the perfect way...to start Round Two. Ghouls' Night Out was the first of 4 bands in a Necrotone Records (Bah-ston) Showcase. This was only their 5th gig, yet despite the fact they did (surprise) 3 Misfits covers, their ORIGINALS were even more welcome, esp. "Psycho-a-go-go." Vampira, Lily, that kick-ass Von Frankenchick, and swivel-hipped leader of the gang Myra are to die for—but see them live first!
Go upstairs to see a band I had heard a LOT about: The Brides are NY favorites, their sound being a poppy—is that..."The Goth Redd Kross?" Not really what I was expecting or my cuppa...OTOH The Empire Hideous come on RAGIN' and show at least the attendees of the first two nights what Goth (and for that matter, DRAMA & POWER) is *really* all about. Myke Hideous literally wears the battlescars of life. (The best thing that happened to NYC on this past Labor Day Weekend was the Republicans gettingthefuckOUT &...Myke coming in to play.) Did an old fave of mine "Mr. Barnum" even. A band the like not usually covered in RnRP that you readers should definitely check out.
[Taking no prisoners: Gein & The Grave Robbers]
We only saw the last number by The Phantom Creeps unfortunately, but managed to be there for the next Necrotone reconfiguration, The Crimson Ghosts. Looking like living Eric Pigors cartoons in their spiked helmets, they played instrumental versions of (surprise) Misfits tunes that instigated beery sing-a-longs & stage rushing by meself and others, inc. NJ sp00kmaster luminaries Thee Empress Tenebrous and Ze Baron. It was like that long-lost punk episode of..."My Three Sons."
Checking the handy-dandy DDII program guide, we found we could forego The Knitting Factory Stairs Workout for at least the rest of THAT night and stay down in The Lab... The Young Werewolves out of Philadelphia were the 2nd band I had only heard of for the first time, but their tight harmonies won me over, as well as She Wolf Dana K (even in polite conversation wearing an...agreeable sneer on her muzzle)'s lead vocals, esp. on the song "Black Cat"...Finally, the Necrotone Showcase closed with Gein & The Grave Robbers taking us down "The Left-Hand Path" (by my personal request, bringing a rare smile from that otherwise scowlpuss Gein) for masterful 'Zombie Surf' that looked us in the eye, sneered, spat blood, and took no prisoners, leaving only the happy dead in antici-pation of Sunday, September 5th: After walking off a late lunch in the cemetery, we commute to Manhattan for The Final Round. The crowd, while seemingly lighter, appears to be dressed in their goth best, perhaps to leave a lasting impression of themselves on each other. Cinema Strange, playing their second set of the festival due to schedule reshuffling, look positively...*elfin* in pointed ears and faux-Tyrolean gear—I never knew Wendy Pini could be such an influence on The Scene! I also introduce myself to recent arrivee Matt Riser of Fear Cult and Editor of Newgrave (which to my mind was the best recent goth music mag for the money): Looking like he crawled right out of the UK's Batcave, he opens his mouth & out comes a friendly, NONpretentious LA drawl. Even on the 3rd day then, The Knit' is THE place to be...
[Swivel-hipped leader of the gang:
Myra of Ghouls' Night Out (TjZ)]
Upstairs on the main stage are The Tombstone Brawlers, whose lead singer apologizes to the crowd for them having "to watch men in dresses all weekend." This avatar of social niceties has a rubber pigface spirit-gummed on the top half of his noggin over a fetching beergut in 'beater, making us forget all about men in dresses. A cover of "Somebody's Gonna Get Their Head Kicked In Tonight" (Repeat again after me: NOTHING better than a pit at a psycho gig!) has me pumpin' the air with me fist, croakin' along w/whatever lung I still have left after the past 2 days. I am still trying to get a copy of their cd...
Earlier that afternoon when we first got to the club, we came upon Myke Hideous again, lying back asleep on his bike in front of it, resembling nothing less than a large bat in sunglasses. After thanking us for waking him up, he hepped us to the one reason he was back at the festival: to see the band Holy Cow. It's more like...Holy FUCK!!! Up here in New England, we had seen them listed on a lot of bills "Back Inna Day" but had never actually SEEN...Introduced onstage as "From The Land of H. P. Lovecraft...," 'Modern Primitive' & Lead SHAMAN Christopher Means and the rest (regrouped just for Drop Dead) proceed to transcend the categories of Goth, Psycho, Something In-between—even Rock & Roll—and channel something tribal, something from OUTSIDE...Besides Hideous, who's shimmying upfront alongside us—frenzied, shirtless, just as a fan (except for one shared vocal assist from the edge of the stage that had to be one of DDII's aesthetic highpoints)—I look back over a sea of white goth makeups, mohawks, even a few psychos, mouths all agape...yes, transcend starts to approach an adequate definition. "They WIN!" Cheryl justly declares and our collective consciousness is as one in agreement.
[Reverend Doom's dead-on look: Cult of The Psychic Fetus]
How the Hell do you follow THAT?!? The Turbo Acs somehow...someway...get on the stage and proceed with 'just' ROCK & ROLL to do just that. I first saw them at a Rumblers' 'get together' and almost(!) thought, "Shit, who needs The Dictators..."They are that freakin' RIGHTEOUS (go directly to www.turboacs.com). Having the festival start off w/Six Gun Republic and end w/The 'ACs (to my eyes), made Drop Dead akin to...a rare, bleeding, beefsteak sandwich—with two slabs of real meat instead of white bread at either end. There being more than half the bands listed that I didn't get to check out meaning there was more than enough to eat for any other's taste. Last, but not least, let me not be remiss in noting full props to pal Bobby D! who not only ferried us back & forth the 3 days but just sent me a notice on Drop Dead IV—next year...
[Transcendent lead shaman Christopher Means of Holy Cow]
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