As I’m wont to do, I posted the age-old clip at the bottom of this post on Facebook, this week, as part of my observation of the season. To my mind, way more so than tireless airings of “The Monster Mash” or fuckin’ “Thriller” (the only thing genuinely scary about that song is that it was recorded by a serial child-molester who never paid for his crimes), it’s the Misfits that truly embody Halloween, especially in their low-budget, ramshackle and fast-as-fuck days. Their look, their sound, their whole aesthetic and their frankly batshit lyrics — they were the most Halloweeny of all possible bands, full stop.
My British friend Dave disagreed, remarking that he’d “yet to figure out” what he’d been missing with regards to the Misfits. In my usual, knee-jerk fashion, I responded that if he couldn't appreciate the bloody-minded ferocity of the live approach captured in this grainy, messed-up video, I would advise him to start collecting ornamental doilies and listening to the passive strains of Joni Mitchell, because he obviously abjectly fails to appreciate rock fury played properly.
I do that sort of thing too much, but c’est la guerre.
Seriously, though, ignoring the fact that they’ve since morphed into simply a revenue-generating vehicle along the lines of their obvious forebears in KISS (over the course of this blog’s long lifespan, prior to the Misfits' unlikely reformation with Glenn Danzig in 2016, I repeatedly claimed a reunion would never happen) and that, by many accounts and again much like the members of KISS, certain gents in the band are periodically not-just-a-little objectionable (Glenn would do well to stop watching Fox News), their original run really delivered the goddamn goods.
I don’t know where this 1982 show was recorded, but it’s perfect. The graininess just enhances the mystique. The band performs with a degree of determined aggression that is positively athletic, furiously executing each song as if under a “play-once-and-destroy” directive. Jerry Only’s bass doesn’t even make it through the first song — fittingly “Halloween.” When Glenn pauses to wet his whistle after the opening number, his boys launch into “20 Eyes” practically before he’s able to take a sip and they’re back at it as if they’re exorcising something that absolutely needs to get out.
It’s fucking inspirational.
Crank it.
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