Wednesday night November 14th, a packed Studio Seven eagerly awaited New Jersey’s legendary Misfits to come on stage. Slowly, stage hands pulled off black cloths from the instruments and various stage props revealing towers with lit up skulls, a skeleton minus its head wrapped around one mic stand and skulls and crossbones wrapped around another. It was Halloween all over again. Then, dry ice began emanating from different parts of the stage, filling the cavern that is Studio Seven with dense fog. Thunder began cracking and a strobe from under the drum riser flashed to simulate lightning.
As if the stage props and effects weren’t enough to tantalize this enthusiastic crowd, singer/bass player, Jerry Only marched onto the stage wearing a leather vest with huge spikes jutting from it. But wait, there’s more. Guitarist Dez Cadena wore white makeup that covered his entire face complete with black circles under his eyes. And last, but certainly not least, drummer Chupacabra wore rows of sharp, pointy teeth that covered his mouth. He sat up higher then the other two as he pounded the skins with a blood thirsty lust.
The lighting the entire time bathed the band in hues of blue, green and red, which along with the clouds from the dry ice, gave the entire place an eerie ambience. The crowd surfing began immediately and security guys were kept busy catching kids who tumbled over the metal barricade.
The crowd surfing only intensified when the Misfits performed some of their classics such as “I Ain’t No Goddamn Son of a Bitch” ( real title, “Where Eagles Dare”) and “Ghoul’s Night Out.” When they played (my personal favorite) “Astro Zombies,” they invited Charlie Bender from The Attack to sing it. He strutted about the stage like a mad rooster, leaning into the crowd and holding the mic out to the audience to let them sing along. He riled the crowd up several more notches.
After that Jerry left the stage, and it looked like the show was over, but he returned moments later — shirtless. He proceeded to dedicate the next song, “Descending Angel,” “to those who were lost in New Jersey as a result of Sandy.” After that it was a Black Flag cover (guitarist Dez was originally a BF member) of “Rise Above”, which immediately sent more kids tumbling over the barricade. The moshing became so intense that I was slammed against that aforementioned metal barricade more times than I cared to count. I was surprised my ribs didn’t turn to kindling (of course, I could have become part of the stage props if that had happened).
There was one audience member who almost stole the limelight away from the headliner. A little boy who was surely no older than four years old, was out bogeying everyone. He flashed the metal sign and jumped around and won the hearts of each band member (Dez even gave him a guitar pick).
They finished the evening with Halloween and the concert was over. However, the evening wasn’t over. Jerry Only always roams up and down between the barricade and stage, signing autographs and mingling with those who choose to stay and mingle. Jerry is very accommodating to his fans and doesn’t leave until every last fan is appeased. He’s a true class act.
Due to the last minute notice that I would be covering this show, I arrived at eight and only got to see three bands including the Misfits.
The first band I saw was No Buffer from right here in Seattle, WA. This is a band that contradicts themselves in that their music comes across dark and foreboding, but the members constantly joke around with themselves and the audience, keeping the dark and foreboding at bay. They play a heavy dose of good ol’ fashioned punk but with some elements of heavy metal. Their drummer plays topless and beats his drums furiously, but never seems to break a sweat. No Buffer is a band to look out for. These guys have the potential to make it big outside of Seattle — the next Nirvana perhaps. Check them out before they’re playing arena shows.
Next up was Florida band The Attack. This foursome comes on stage fully charged and at full throttle. They don’t let up. The Attack play so fast, so loud and so manic that if all the doors were opened while they played, steam would pour from the club and enshroud the entire city in fog. (note to readers, Seattle woke this morning enshrouded in fog — so perhaps?). The Attack riled up the crowd and heated up the stage with their tumultuous finale of a punked up, revved up version of the old CCR song “Bad Moon Rising.” WOW! What a night this was!
