This was the hardest review I have had to write ever so far! Never mind the epicness of The Misfits, I had literally flown in from Portland–sleepless–that same morning, had a full evening of school and then chugged a <i>Rogue</i> growler filled with JJ Hazelnut (their Hazelnut Brown Nectar aged for six months in their rum barrels!)
I actually knocked on while writing, overslept and turned in the piece after my 8 AM deadline! But anyways, here you go, enjoy my hard punk rock labor!
The Misfits and The Dickies
House of Blues
More than three decades in, The Misfits are still doing it, with or without Glenn Danzig. To the orthodox practitioner of punk rock, watching these guys play power chords is as big as watching Black Sabbath or Metallica. It’s something you’ll be able to brag about to your faux-hawked children one day.
To celebrate their first new album in ten years, The Devil’s Rain, the horror punk veterans played in Hollywood last night, to a house filled with loyal “fiend” fanatics from all walks of life. They were young and old, with their faces painted and wearing skeleton attire, some supporting Team Danzig, some supporting Team Jerry.