The Automatik

The Shim Sham Club
November 16, 2002

What show review of mine would be complete without snarky and amused commentary on those who attended? This one won’t be any different. But first, let’s talk about X.

I remember seeing Exene Cervenka on MTV in the early 80s with her black and white hair, wearing a Kool-Aid t-shirt and a ratty, 50s style cardigan sweater. For years, I used that image as fashion shorthand to explain and identify a style that was more anti-fashion than anything else. I’d never seen anyone dress like that, much less carry it off as well as she did.

X’s music was much the same: violently original yet uncategorizable. Theirs is the punk of the “Hail! Hail! Rock and Roll” kind: rockabilly riffs and no particular place to go. It was miles ahead of anyone else and hasn’t been done as well since. When critics wax rhapsodic about searing harmonies, it’s usually the kind the Beatles made famous, but the disturbingly dissonant vocals of Exene and bassist/singer John Doe work to just as fantastic effect.

All those factors kept me in the middle, fence-sitting wise, because my preteen ears couldn’t handle such a unique sound and style. My X exposure got kicked up a few notches when I moved to Southern California in the mid-80s and became introduced to KROQ. It was “White Girl,” in fact, that finally flicked on the proverbial light bulb and prompted me to buy the first two X albums (available on one CD!) when I was in college.

So of course, I was anticipating this weekend’s show, since I could finally see Billy Zoom’s ubiquitously creepy smile up close and witness the wonder that is the gracefully aging John Doe. And of course, Exene’s terribly cool hair and attitude to match.

I figured that there would be plenty of old school punkers there, both the ones with permanent brain damage from glue-sniffing and the ones who now wear Prada. I was right. There was also the requisite dumbass who asked, “What does X sound like? Are they ska?” Maybe I’m alone here, but when asking a complete stranger what a band I’ve never heard of sounds like, the first genre that comes to mind isn’t ska. He dug himself in deeper when, after being told that X was punk, asked, “Oh, like The Ramones?” Mind you, this is the same dumbass who bitched and moaned about the show being sold out because “advance tickets weren’t advertised.” Those sorts of lazy, non-excuses didn’t work in high school and they don’t work now, Bub.

There were people that I recognized and people that I knew, and then there was the Diva Contingent, flinging attitude and hair extensions with equal aplomb. But for the most part, the crowd was well-behaved, even the drunk, stumbling guys trying to hit on me while swearing that they weren’t trying to hit on me.

Rock City Morgue was enjoyable; who couldn’t enjoy DJ Rhoades vamping on lead guitar and the always-entertaining Rik Slave on lead vocals? Despite his Mick Jagger/Iggy Pop stylings, Rik’s goofiness shone through like always. Calling club owner Morgan “Morgus the Magnificent” was a nice touch.

And then there was X. They looked so damn cool. Billy Zoom’s still got the creepy smile and if he ever leaves the band again, The Royal Pendletons’ Mike Hurtt can audition. DJ Bonebrake sounded and looked great on the drums, especially with his close cropped grey hair (Sloan’s Andrew Scott, are you listening?) John Doe is just plain handsome and charismatic and Exene was, well, Exene. She’s one of the last of the great freaky punk rock chicks (and her hair looked cool, by the way). The band seemed almost nervous at first, despite the crowd’s wildly enthusiastic reception, and it took a few songs for them to hit their stride. When Exene’s shoes came off, they were in like Flynn. De Marco. Heh.

All in all, the show was awesome. I was so hoping they’d do “What’s Wrong With Me?” but “Sugarlight” was so platinum, I couldn’t complain much. Standing right up on stage next to Billy Zoom and his gorgeous silver glitter guitar I was amazed at his ability to play such astounding licks while remaining as debonair as a guy with a pompadour and a motorcycle jacket could possibly be. John Doe, what a wild man! My lord, the energy and fire. Exene traipsed over the amps and practically into the crowd. It was all much too short, but then again, all really good shows are, aren’t they?