Cold Blue Rebels “Blood, Guts, and Rock’n’Roll (-Horror High)”

Many still cringe at the very notion of a super group, mostly due to the still vivid impression made by the legendary figureheads of punk, whilst overthrowing the dead-eyed wanking millionaires of “prog-rock”, some thirty five years ago. Since then, the Lords Of The New Church emerged from the wreckage of the Deadboys/Damned/Sham 69/Barracudas to become, one of the two, most important bands of post-glam/glamour punk. Joe Elliot’s new Ian Hunter covers band, starring various members of the much loved London Quireboys: the Down N Outz, have made some of the freshest sounding, if over-produced, rock’n’roll music I’ve heard, in a long, long time. Michael Monroe’s new band features former Hanoi Rocks, Quireboys, Throbs, Wildhearts, Jetboy, Demolition Twenty Three, NY Dolls, Mad Juana, Willie Deville band, and Danzig alumni. The latest and the potentially, greatest, new band to come stormin’ back from the Hollyweird glitter years, is the Cold Blue Rebels.
You probably haven’t had this much fun, since the Ultras last played English Acid. If you missed teasing your hair a foot high, to look like the guy from Specimen, and slappin’ on the old Day Of The Dead make-up, and tailoring your creepers and scarf to match your tropical cocktail, on the leopard couch, at the red leather bar, that has Pabst on tap, Cold Blue Rebels are bringing gothabilly back with a vengeance, for a whole new generation of corpse painted horror punks. With the stylish cool of Bryan Gregory era Cramps, and the energetic, appetite for destruction of “Walk Among Us” era Misfits, these vintage glamsters have crawled back out of the pre-grunge glamour grave, and can’t seem to distinguish any relevant distinctions between Social Distortion’s “Mommy’s Little Monster” and the NY Dolls “Frankenstein”. Dig? With an old shovel? If you loved Dinah Cancer, Forty Five Grave, Stray Cats, or Heart Throb Mob…
Cold Blue Rebels might be your new Favorite band. Are they goth? Glam? Psychobilly? All this, and more little girl! If they remind you of the Gun Club getting liquored up with Stars From Mars; or Jimmy Reject from Dimestore Haloes (RI.P.) drunkenly, breathing down your neck, to sign his band to a bigger contract, in his coffee stained “Too Fast For Love” t-shirt; or the Joneses making the emo-geeks of My Chemical Romance cry, by opening up the packaging of all their collectible KISS action figures, and giving ’em to the tattooed teenage girls in the front row, it’s probably because these hip cats used to be in some of the swankiest bands to ever lean against the parking meter, in front of the liquor store, across the street, from that sleazy motel, on the Sunset Strip. The Glamour Punks still have one of the most fervent and fanatical cult followings of any unsigned band from the Aqua-Net Age. The Zeros, unremorsefully, stole the color purple from Prince and the Revolution, refusing to give it back, nya, nya. The Zeros were like Hollywood’s fun loving answer to the Ramones-with Joisey accents. San Francisco’s Jetboy taught my generation how to dress, insisting the proto-suicide girls refrain from messin’ with their hair…
Now, in an unusual display of fraternity, and righteous “When You’re a Jet” solidarity, these veteran glitter punks have chosen to fly under no flag, together…Arriving at performances in an old hearse, Mummies-style; with ghoulishly garbed and scantily clad zombified Nancy Sinatras on-stage, they totally recapture the dazzling, old time, spooky-cinematic showmanship of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, Alice Cooper, Elvira, and Doctor Creep. Channeling all the well coiffed apparitions of yesteryear, a youthful and revitalized Mickey Finn, is sounding way more at home, and in command of the microphone than ever before, reminding some of Francois from Motorcycle Boy performing ’68 Comeback Elvis covers…Joe Normal heroically slinging fancy hollow body guitars like Link Wray giving private lessons to Brian Setzer; Spazz Draztik and Danny Dangerous effortlessly hammering down the Mystery Train loco-locomotive beat, like the old Sun Records house band, the Cold Blue Rebels have returned from the past, and overcome the rigors of rigor mortis, so all you Martian teenagers of all ages, gorgeous gore gore gals, and star dusted greasers can get all dolled up, again, and have some place to go….”Undead, undead, undead!”
Review by Anguish Younghttp://www.myspace.com/coldbluerebels
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