Sha La La – Volume 10

The Damned performing at Alex's Bar in Long Beach.

One of our favorite things about this year’s Punk Rock Bowling and Music Festival (PRB) was being able to see people wearing Fred Perry polos without making us groan and wonder if we’re looking at some emotionally stunted dark-web edgelord who’s proud of still being a boy, and who might incite violence if his friends are around. Because of the presence of The Specials, The Pietasters, and Long Beach’s Sunday Social DJs (among others), the ska/mod fashion was at higher levels than usual this year, and the laurel embroidered shirts were sported with the proper sense to accompany the style. Of course, the setting being Las Vegas over Memorial Day weekend, it only took a scan of the casino floor to find an ammosexual NRA t-shirt over forearms festooned with Klan crosses. Obviously not a golfer, the simpleton and his crew of shorter sycophants shot surly looks at the colorful coifs and band patches that they did not recognize, ultimately realized they were outnumbered, and lumbered to the LED displays and torturous techno of Fremont Street where their garb better blended with the flags and corporate logos of the masses on holiday. 

Murder City Devils

It was some hours past midnight and we had just seen Le Butcherettes, Shame, and Murder City Devils put on electric shows at The Bunkhouse Saloon, and we sat at a video poker machine trying to win a few quarters while we watched the weirdos go by. Whatever luck that machine gave or took from us we’ve forgotten, because we quickly noticed we were sitting next to Spencer Moody and Dann Galluci from Murder City Devils. We thanked them for their great set just an hour ago, and talked for a minute about a time we’d met Dann somewhere in Los Angeles, then turned around to introduce them to our friend Chris (lately of the bands Tijuana Knife Fight and Crate Digger), only to find him chatting it up with the still dapper-dressed Dennis Lyxzen of Refused. Walking right into this pack of noted musicians came the lead singer of the band who had just rocked us harder than anyone that day – Charley Steen of the South London band Shame. The early-20s lad had a smile brighter than the casino’s neon, and he was clearly the happiest man in the room, bursting with a pride that the other, seasoned rockers in our proximity worked hard to hold down or perhaps just didn’t have anymore. Barely old enough to be legally among the gambling and booze, he chatted about the few spots we knew about in his hometown (we happened to be wearing a t-shirt from the Camden record store, All-Ages Records), and we tried to put into words our enjoyment of their performance, which elicited huge vibrations of gratitude and a hug. 

We bring up these twenty or so minutes of artist encounters not to brag or show any kind of exclusivity. We buy our own tickets to PRB, and our days of being on a bowling team, and getting media access to artists are mostly behind us. All of this happened on the casino floor of the Golden Nugget right out in general population where it could have happened to anyone. That’s part of the many things that make PRB an event we always give serious consideration to attending. You’re bound to run into the artists at some point over the weekend. This year we said hello to, or at least gave a nod to, the likes of Keith Morris, Cheetah Chrome, Lynval Golding, Monty Oxymoron, Made J, The Darts, and The Droogettes, all from the comfort of a barstool in the casino. 

Shame sounded like a fast hardcore band when our liquored ears were drawn to them on the inside stage of The Bunkhouse. We were there to see Murder City Devils and Le Butcherettes, and didn’t even know there was a band playing inside between those two bands’ sets until we went in to get a drink at the relatively shorter line. Wow. We haven’t seen anyone hold an audience the way Steen did since the early days of The Bronx when their first record tore a hole through Los Angeles that still hasn’t properly been filled. The band had the crowd craning left and right like cartoons watching a tennis match as Steen forced his energy wildly around the stage. We were hooked like we haven’t been in a while. Someone told us the band’s name, and we thought they either said Shane or Shave (later when we met the singer, we still said, “Hey, you’re in Shane, you guys just fucking destroyed that stage!”).


So we were surprised the next afternoon when we woke up (around the time they were playing the festival main stage) and streamed their 2018 debut album Songs of Praise and found it to be less than throttling punk rock. It’s a fantastic record, it’s just more Gang of Four than we thought we heard the night before; a record that would fit easily on either a ‘90s Britpop playlist, or an ‘80s post-punk playlist. There’s rhythm, some force and the right little melodies perking the whole thing up. You hear The Fall, notes of the more buoyant songs by The Cure, chunks of Blur, and a tuneful knack for build and release that is pleasant on record, and decidedly hurricane-force live. Here’s a few songs from that main stage show in the afternoon sun that we missed.

Another band we discovered because of this year’s PRB is Drug Church. As was the case with Shame on the main stage, we missed their performance, but our friend kept raving about them so we checked out their latest record, 2018’s Cheer. Fun stuff. Don’t let this comparison scare you because it really works, but if your crossed the pop sensibilities of Weezer with the raw mania of The Jesus Lizard, then you’ve got our lazy explanation of their sound. Musically they often sound like a really good ‘90s radio band, but with a singer who’s too pissed to go pop. The lyrics bring up things like social anxiety (“Avoidarama”) and labor exploitation (“Weed Pin”)  but in comically crazy takes (“At $12.50 an hour, I should’ve started a chemical fire!” “If you live long enough, you’ll do something wrong enough”). The blend and vibe remind us of Angel Dust-era Faith No More. Catchy, fun, and twisted in entertaining ways.  

Everybody loves lists, so here’s a ranking of our favorite performances at this year’s PRB:

  1. Shame – The Bunkhouse Saloon – Sunday night (Monday morning) – crowd control at its funnest
  2. The Stranglers – Main Stage – Monday night – Those bass lines were like a shag carpet you could just roll around in and let sop up your three-days worth of hangover. When they’re slow and nice n sleazy, it’s punk-porn music you can just dream on. 
  3. Flag – Main Stage – Saturday night – The hardcore intensity of Black Flag has not waned a bit. Keith with great guitars behind him is a perfect kind of energy. 
  4. Murder City Devils – Bunkhouse Saloon – Sunday night – Sway along, mateys! 
  5. The Hives – Monday night – Over the top rocknroll that would be just complete douchebaggery if it didn’t actually kick ass. 
  6. Rancid – Saturday night – All I know is that if you don’t know you don’t know nothin. 
  7. The Specials – Monday night – A relatively quiet and thoughtful groove to the end of the fest.  
  8. The Damned – Saturday night – Still fast groovy creepy 
  9. The Coathangers – Second stage – Sunday evening – forceful, fierce, fun as fuck.  
  10. The Pietasters – Pool party – Sunday afternoon – Closed with “Drinking and Driving” by The Business, and nobody had to drive, so there was a happy circle pit in the pool, and if that doesn’t make your day, you’re in the wrong place, boy-o.  

PRB is a memorable event, but wait, fuck, we think we left a few bucks in that video poker machine!

The Candy Snatchers would fit right in at PRB, because if you happened to find yourself too long exposed to the shit techno pulsing like a broken computer on the Fremont Street Experience in Downtown Las Vegas, The Candy Snatchers would be a perfect antidote. The Virginia Beach superfastrocknfucknroll band released a “lost” album, Mornonic Pleasures, a couple of months ago, and it reminds us of what a rip-roaring good time they bring. Recorded in 1997, the record is timeless garage rock debauchery at double speed. Compact and coming apart at the seams, the bursts of guitar solo could easily scrape the label off a whiskey bottle, and singer Larry May yells somewhere around Sam Kinison and a hot-footed Yosemite Sam, which is to say perfectly. Strongly recommended for fans of Zeke, The Humpers, and the guitar sound keeps reminding me of the simple power in old Circle Jerks songs (and new OFF! songs). Line up a hundred asses and The Candy Snatchers will kick them all. 

The only upcoming release we’re interested in is Russian Circles, but you can always send us tips for everything except modern country on Twitter @JFloyd_Popwell 

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.