Rocket from the Crypt, The Spits, The A-Frames
Berbati’s Pan
April 11, 9 p.m.
21+, $13 adv/door
Writing about Rocket from the Crypt is like writing about the Rolling Stones. People have their minds made up, my target audience of 19-24-year-olds especially, and this article will either be a sermon to the converted or an attempt at a radical conversion. As long as those are the only two options available, I will go ahead and try both.
The main focus of my sermon will simply be to remind everyone this show is happening and to fan the flames a little for everyone who was thinking about going but was wondering if maybe the world had forgotten about RFTC and they would be socially stigmatized for attending the concert. Maybe you just can’t forget the mere two times in the band’s 13 year history that they let you down.
In 1998, three years after their seminal Scream, Dracula, Scream!, the major-label grip tightened and RFTC gave a little too much power to the forces of promotion and production that can ruin a lesser group. During this period, Interscope Records tried to put too fine a point on the group’s 1950s greaser image and the resulting album, RFTC, though mostly well-written and played, felt somewhat one-dimensional. So they let you down. I can understand a little resentment, but these guys were going through some rough times and deserve some sympathy. Another three years passed as the band was dropped by Interscope and found a home amidst the rather deplorable roster of Vagrant Records. Despite being in the company of a slicker-than-slick MTV-ready crew, the group managed to release that blistering statement of solidarity, Group Sounds.
So maybe they let you down in 1998, but you let them down in 2001, not giving Group Sounds a chance. The band, obviously disheartened by their fickle fan base, responded with the somewhat lackluster affair Live from Camp X-Ray (2002), which seemed to be released dependant on the assumption that it wouldn’t be given a chance anyway. RFTC, like god or any other quasi-mythical beast, gets their power from belief in their existence. Sadly, they wither when ignored but when properly revered, they rock the house.
I’ve had enough of the supposedly converted, to be honest, they covet their grudges as much as they do their rare vinyl. I am moving on and attempting some initiation.
Frat boys! Check this out! Shed that wimpy Dave Matthews image and show that your breed still knows how to party! Rocket from the Crypt, I can assure you, are a veritable beer-guzzling, ruckus-inducing, projectile-vomiting party machine! Not even the AC/DC you occasionally throw on when drunk enough to be cool matches RFTC in terms of pure, macho rock n roll power. Whether seducing your date to the soulful “Let’s Get Busy” or starting a brawl to the raucous sounds of “Straight American Slave,” your gatherings will get a lot more interesting with the help of some RFTC. In fact, the converted haven’t been taking good enough care of them, anyway. They are officially yours from now on. Just weld them some studded kappa-whatever belts and they will assuredly relocate their act to that more suitable locale, the house party.