The songs remind me of being in elementary school and sucking on a piece of hard candy because I know that, if I bite into it, the teacher will hear and make me spit it out, so it lingers in my head, giving me two-minute jolts of a sugar high and a little guilty pleasure.
|The Filthy Skanks scared the everlasting stinkin’ shit outta me and caused me to cower in a dark dank corner of the bar and suck my thumb like a wet-diapered lil’ crybaby.|
They rocked my socks off!!!
While their songwriting is workmanlike (their most inspired performance is a dramatic cover of “Runaway”) it’s the pleasing combination of talent, work ethic and grit that makes Black Monday go.
The musical highlight of the evening was the The Beauty’s performance of “Baby, Put It In The Hole” (And we ain’t talkin’ golf here folks.) which Chica introduced as their romantic number.
The audience hung on to every note and syllable the singer.
Sergie really held his own, making up for James’s absence like a pro. Also, with Jason Beebout’s mesmerizing voice, after the first few songs, you could hear James’ spirit coming through Sergie’s playing.
Amidst the candles, the religious kitsch, the glowing CIA sign (Causey Is Awesome, Causey Is an Asshole, Causey Is Anarchy), the all white uniforms, the go-go boy, and the intermittent Causey sermons, the band never forgot to fuse their bizarre duel keyboard-fueled, new-wave inspired rock’n’roll.
The next day as I unclothed myself to take a well earned-shower, I saw the black and blue Dalmatian prints of bruises littering my body. All I could do was smile knowing that each bruise counted as each song in the long repertoire of the last great American band to survive the punk rock heydays of CBGB’s.