I spied the legendary purveyors of the offensive and obscene maneuvering in the dark and prepping all manner of sundry stage prop.The self styled “Ayatollahs Of Rock n’ Rolla” readied gimmicks that Alice Cooper himself would approve of.It was looking to be a night of unencumbered, hedonistic fun all in the name of sonically assaulting debauchery.Kinda like the Grand Guignol performed by mental ward patients or Kiss,Sigue Sigue Sputnik and The Plasmatics gobbled up by a dinosaur, preserved in ice for millions of years, resurrected and then crapped out in the modern age.If Ringling Brothers went insane this would be his circus-tent house band.Opening with the (MK) ultra cool ‘Shanti Devi’ a seismic, middle eastern flavoured precursor to the rattle caged vitriol of Fear’s 1977 classic ‘I Love Living In The City’ Rebel 2 prove why they stand as L.A.’s new Jane’s Addiction gone cyberpunk.As deadly serious as the band may purport to be, comic relief is a very important ingredient in their musical stew of gourmet delight. Homage is paid to shock rock forebears W.A.S.P. during ‘Wild Women’ where Jet Jupiter sullies out, prancing cocksure and proud and proceeds to ignite the wick of a streaming sparkler that is attached to a rather lengthy phallus.The overt danger factor is there -yes, and no doubt one of the reasons they have been banished from practically every dive in existence, but it is also the very reason they succeed. These maverick court jesters deliver the adrenaline in jest.Another one of their ingenious calling cards is implication.For instance, the mock rape and subsequent chainsaw beheading of a pre-teen female (in reality a 3 foot tall barbie doll) as well as the makeshift pumpkin decoration ( by said deathsaw) applied right before your very eyes.Musically they have improved leaps and bounds over the somewhat shoddy, sometimes poorly executed and often indecipherable shrill of their early days.These dudes are fucking LOUD too.By the shows dramatic conclusion my ears had been wrenched into submission.The already grating tinnitus thrown into a further state of turmoil.Admittedly, I was a trifle miffed being outwardly denied my request for ‘Rock In The Face’ but that’s a wanton tale for another time.So, once again culminates yet another gig-cum-near travesty courtesy of the most banned band in southern California, and as the stunned patrons filed out into the cold, damp evening (leaving rampant trash and cluttered debris in their wake) I couldn’t help but hum the deliciously deviant mantra from A Clockwork Orange…” I’m, singing in the rain” (insert violent kick to hobos ribs)…”Just, singing in the rain” (repeat rash behaviour)….on and on and on……verbatim.
By:Toe Knee
Veglam 