The Misfits: I'll Remember Halloween

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The Misfits:

I’ll remember Halloween

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“Happy Halloween.”

There is nothing more fitting to hear from Glenn Danzig right before he and the Misfits launch into the song itself. In October, in New York City, at (sold out) Madison Square Garden. With The Damned opening, 40 years after the Misfits opened for them at Hurrah’s. 

A quick history lesson from Billy “Stark” Stone (lead singer of the Blessed) here, he tells it on a Facebook thread:

Just for the record and a bit of trivia....not to blow my own horn ( I prefer someone else to do THAT) but that whole thing, those two bands opening was arranged by moi I My first band The Blessed were booked to do that( Our Manager Eileen Polk had ‘retired” and I was managing the band).it was to be called The Damned Blessed Blessed Damned Nights. Two nights, first night we would go on first and the second night The Damned would go on first essentially opening for us. But our guitarist @ the time refused to do it ( having been on The Anarchy tour etc etc) so I had to bow out which Hurrah’s was NOT happy about as posters etc were being printed.So, I suggested The Misfits and The Stimulators, who they were not all too familiar w/ and I contacted each band and put everyone together and the rest is...whatever. I think the success all the various bands have had is fantastic and any book ( especially ones that are due to come out in the near future) This is the true and unadulterated facts. I only believe in the truth no matter how hard and brutal. Leave others to their myths.
— Billy "Stark" Stone, Bryan Swirsky's Facebook post
Photographer unknown, please message me if you know!

Photographer unknown, please message me if you know!

This is not some Misfits Nerd fantasy written on Misfits Central in 2007, “Whoa, imagine if, like, Glenn and Jerry reunited for a sold out NYC Halloween show. And like, The Damned are opening and they had Dave Lombado from Slayer on drums and it was at Madison Square Garden!? That would be so sick. That would be so amazing to see!!! I know it will never happen though.”  

The time is nigh.

The time is nigh.

Rich and I, waiting for death to rip our backs out.

Rich and I, waiting for death to rip our backs out.

No, actually, that really just happened. October 18th, 2019. 6 years to the day after Danzig and Doyle play a Misfits set at the Roseland Ballroom (RIP).

As the days counted down to this historic event, I poured over its connotations many, many times in my mind - revelling in how significant and validating it is for the band, the fiends, the fans, and the punk rock community as a whole. A grand victory.

I’ve seen the spectacle twice before: Chicago Riotfest and New Jersey’s Prudential Center. And while the Chicago show will always be burned in my mind as the greatest of the three, I think the NYC MSG is my favorite. It is their true homecoming show. You hear everyone talk all the time about Jersey begin the hometown show, but that’s inaccurate. 

Although the Misfits are from Lodi, New Jersey, they are actually a New York band, and played NYC far more than they ever played Jersey - before they became a true touring band in ‘81-’82. I’ve conducted many interviews over the years, and the thing I heard the most from people in the late 70s/early 80s punk scene was that the Misfits only came out to play NYC around Halloween time or, “only on Halloween.” This of course is not completely true as any Misfits Nerd who has memorized Misfits Central (or spent a fortune collecting fliers) will tell you, but it is a part of the band’s original mythology and further deepens the significance of an October show.

I had never seen The Damned, and they were excellent! It’s amazing to see a band that has consistently been playing for 43 years, still sound so tight. They worked the crowd with their jovial, mischievous chemistry on stage. At one point, their keyboardist, Monty Oxymoron leaves his keys to dance like a mad man between Dave Vanian and Captain Sensible. Eventually, Monty accidentally knocks Vanians mic out of his hand and Vanian mischievously passes by Monty and his keyboards to bash the keys. What a fun band.

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I wish I knew more of Rancid’s catalogue, they were also great and further added to the crowd’s energy, churning them into a frenzy. There were a ton of Rancid fans on the floor. While I appreciate them and their music, I didn’t like that the Damned went first and felt they should have been direct support to the Misfits with a longer set. Not sure of who was in charge of that decision, but I found it disrespectful.

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The Misfits came out and everything exploded. Epic as ever. The sound was perfect. Everyone was firing on all cylinders. Glenn’s voice was top notch. There was minimal power sliding from Jerry, much to my dismay. But the energy between Jerry and Glenn felt positive. Doyle shined in the spotlight with his Some Kind of Hate guitar solo. Every time Jerry would break a bass (which he sometimes would punch in half) Glenn would playfully joke about how angry Jerry is with his heaps and tons of basses. It warmed my black heart.

The highlight of the evening came towards the end. I was on the floor, in and out of the mosh/circle pit (depending on the song) for most of the show. It was as violent as Chicago Riotfest was and I did get rocked in mush by a lummox at the beginning, but I felt nothing as I was possessed by the music and the energy all around me. Along with me and the rest in the circle pit was this girl in a wheelchair. She was fierce and fearless. Determined to have a good time, wheelchair or not. She spent pretty much the entirety of the show doing laps. Various crowd fiends would run interference so that she had a minimum of a few feet to steer/negotiate the floor. No one pushed her. She wheeled herself. I was in awe of her, and her strength and did my part too, when we crossed paths from time to time. She was as much of a rockstar as the monsters performing their dark magic before us.

There was not too much crowd surfing during the show, until this girl in her wheelchair sparked a revolution. There she was, floating about a sea of people. Supported by what I would only describe as heroes and nothing less. She was like Iggy, covered in peanut butter on the night that he famously walked across the crowd hand on foot with the Stooges in Cincinnati, Ohio in 1970. Supposedly, it was Stiv Bators who handed Iggy the peanut butter.

Photo by Tom Copi

Photo by Tom Copi

As she floats angelically towards the stage, wheelchair and all, Jerry and Glenn take notice. The crowd is going NUTS. Everything in Madison Square Garden has momentarily stopped for this girl floating above the crowd in her wheelchair.

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There is no act or gesture that could better suit what Jerry did in that moment. He took off his non broken, full operational, custom made Devastator bass guitar with a glowing red cyclops skull and hands it to the girl in the wheelchair. Apparently, she too is a bass player!!

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It was Dave Grohl’s wet dream and he would be jealous.

In some weird way, we all vicariously received that bass, or a piece of it when Jerry handed it over. The moment was a souvenir for everyone to take home and talk about. I think it will be legendary in the years to come.

No matter how he conducts business, Jerry Only is truly one of the nicest, most generous musicians ever. This is just one of many examples. No one can deny how awesome he is to his fans. In this regard, we Jews would call him a mensch. It was a great way to finish the show.

According to the setlist/photos floating around on Facebook, they played all but 3 songs with a 15 minute(?) late start. 

Supposedly this is the “last” show, although no one said anything of the sort on stage, and we’ve heard it all before. I am sure, if the offer is right, that won’t be the case. There is just too much money to be made. Could ya blame ‘em? They deserve it. All of it.

Secretly, and greedily, I kind of wish it was the last one. It was the perfect show for them. The perfect way to victoriously go out on top: Selling out MSG with the Damned opening. Despite Doyle’s dream of playing Giant’s Stadium, It can’t get bigger or better. This is it!! Let this be the final period in the book of the Misfits:

And then, in October of 2019 they sold out MSG with The Damned opening - where they played in top form. The End.

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10/21/19 EDIT: Whoops, I spoke to soon. Philly 12/14/19.

238 Likes, 54 Comments - Live Nation Philadelphia (@livenationphila) on Instagram: "💀"

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Rock Me Joe: An Awkward Pixies Moment

The Pixies truly are one of the GREATEST examples of how to tastefully reunite as a band while trying not to sell out. They play the hits. They make new music. They tour frequently.

In my book, they “cashed in” with the upmost integrity. I never get tired of seeing them live. There is no better feeling at a live show than a setlist where you are gonna know almost every song on a deep, intimate level.

To coincided with the 30th anniversary of their legendary EP and LP Come on Pilgrim and Surfer Rosa, The Pixies released, Come on Pilgrim… It’s Surfer Rosa.

It’s a “Three LP edition with new artwork reimagined by original designer Vaughan Oliver and the bonus disc, Live From The Fallout Shelter - one of the earliest recordings of the band, a radio concert that first aired in late 1986 on WJUL-FM in Lowell, MA.”

The next step in the usual tired, cliche reunited band cycle is to tour on one of their iconic albums on its anniversary, and play the whole thing in it’s entirety. The Pixies are no strangers to this ritual, but unlike other bands, they do it with class and consideration.

When they play Come on Pilgrim and Surfer Rosa in their entirety, they replicate the dialogue on Surfer and make sure to play a stellar mini set of B-Sides that no fan in one thousand years would ever think they would get the chance to hear live like: Build High, Dance the Manta Ray, Rock a My Soul, and the Purple Tape version of Down to the Well.

That is what I call considerate!

My moment as an awkward Pixies cringe lord.

11/20/18

Rich and I walk up the sidewalk to Brooklyn Steel when I see him. Off to the side, is a bald gentleman in a cabbie hat smoking a cigarette in the cold. He faces the brick wall of the venue. He clearly doesn’t want to be noticed.

645 Likes, 14 Comments - Joey Santiago (@joeyalbertosantiago) on Instagram: "Lollapalooza Paris."

I grab Rich’s arm and SQUEEZE as to prevent any verbal expression that would draw attention to who I know it is… One of my ALL TIME guitar heroes . <GASP>

Joey Alberto Santiago. A man whose music I have worshiped for the last 14 years, since that first time I played Doolittle in the tape deck of my ‘94 Toyota Camry, stands before me. He is a magician that can make his guitar speak in a shrieking, tortured, wailing, emotional musical language that compliments the obtuse, subversive, abstract lyrical poetry, and the raw, focused, primal screaming of Black Francis.

Rich understands the squeeze and takes a hard turn with me. In the 7 times I’ve seen the band since 2005, I have never been fortunate enough to see a Pixie outside of the green room/tour bus/back stage in the wild.

Executive decisions have to be made in a matter of precious seconds. It is my ONE CHANCE to talk to a hero of mine. I would regret it forever if I didn’t try. I go for it.

He turns and sees this DERP(me) standing before him. I assess the situation.

The weather report is not good.

(My appraisal of) his face says, “Dude- I’m so just trying to smoke a quick cigarette right now without anyone noticing me so that I can go back inside where it is warm. I gotta play in 30 minutes. Please don’t bother me.”

I really don’t blame him at all. Like any good smoker who can’t smoke inside, it is never too cold to go out and have a cigarette.

A valuable lesson that I’ve learned when meeting people of note: It is important to realize that your special one moment in time with them is just one of a million of their seconds. Who knows how they are feeling in that day, hour, minute, etc? Don’t take it personally.

At this point, I kinda wish I could abort the mission, but it is too late to retreat.

My legs carry me towards him as my brain sends signals to my mouth piece to speak. My mouth opens and nothing comes out. I have NOTHING to say. I ask my closest companion, my Brain to send me stuff to say. As die hard fan, there is million things to say, and Brain doesn’t send me any of them. Maybe that is a good thing?

He waits for me to talk. Brain scrambles to put a sentence together. He sends me the wrong sentence, “Thank you so much for a great show.” Stupid Brain!

My tongue, the unsung hero, catches it before it can leave my mouth. Cunning Tongue!

Instead, I say, “Looking forward to a great show tonight.” Or some variation of that… Joey nods. I think he says, “Thanks.” I can’t really tell because I know I have already fucked this up.

I walk away. Joey smokes on, not being noticed.

I die, as I try to deconstruct this exchange that probably lasted all of 30 seconds?

During the show, in between moments of musical ecstasy, I think about what I could of (or should of) said. As I write this, I think I should have walked up right behind him while he was making out with the brick wall and whispered, “Rock me Joe,” and just continue on nonchalantly. I don’t really know. It would have made for a much better story than this one. What would you have said?

I still feel like a derp thinking about this. I will remember it forever.

Sorry I bothered you Joey, thank you so much for a great show.

A playlist featuring Pixies