Satan's cause

Mephiskapheles do the devil

by Joe Gagne

Since their debut album, God Bless Satan (Moon Ska Records, catalogue number #666, of course), New York City's Mephiskapheles have spread the devil's word through frantic live shows packed with songs like "Satanic Debris," "Demon Weed," and "Satan on the Beach." But don't be fooled by the gimmick; behind all the evil posturing lies one of the better ska acts of the '90s. And their new album, Might-Ay White-Ay (Koch/Velvel), demonstrates the band's adeptness at playing third-wave ska, and it also finds them expanding their sound with the addition of hardcore to their Jamaican rhythms.

But it should be made clear: though the members of Mephiskapheles are devilish, they aren't really devil worshipers. "There are lots of satanic heavy-metal bands and rock-and-roll bands, but never a satanic ska band," says trombonist Greg Robinson. "So we're filling a badly needed niche. It's not a shot at any religious bands or anything. It started as a satire of other satanic bands, but we've been doing it for so long, it ceases to be a satire. It just is what it is."

Have the band ever been in any trouble because of their demonic image? "People have all kinds of reactions," Robinson explains. "Nothing's really happened, just a few canceled shows. I mean, we should be so lucky. If someone were to seriously object to it, it could only benefit us."

After releasing two well-received albums on prominent ska label Moon Ska Records, Mephiskapheles moved over to Koch/Velvel, hoping to reach a larger audience. "We had a one-off deal with Moon Ska, instead of a long-term contract," Robinson says. "We just basically want to get as far as we can, to something hopefully beyond the core ska audience."

Mephiskapheles, who appear next Thursday at the Lucky Dog, should win converts with their new harder edge. The band explored a heavier side on 1997's Maximum Perversion by fusing heavy riffs to ska songs like "Plan B" and "Scam." But Might-Ay White-Ay finds the band adding large amounts of punk and hardcore to the formula. The album opener, "Calloused Boy," features a chugging metal riff, with the only traces of ska being a background organ and some horn playing at the song's end. Other songs, like "Social Theory" and "One Zero Eight Zero," successfully mix heavy guitars and horns in the Mighty Mighty Bosstones/Thumper vein. "We have two guitar players now," explains Robinson of the band's new sound, "and that affected the songwriting. We like to stay current, too. And it's natural for us, since we really enjoy hardcore music."

Longtime Mephiskapheles fans needn't fret; there's still plenty of ska to be found on Might-Ay White-Ay. "Devil's Due" is an upbeat, catchy tune that lasts all of 83 seconds, while "Alfredo Lopez" is a smooth instrumental. "Tallahassee Tango" is a creepy song that should be on everyone's Halloween playlist, and "Wash Me" is straight-out reggae. Robinson explains the band's eclecticism: "There are eight guys in the band, so nothing is ever clear-cut. We always differ on everything, and it's part of our creative process."

As you might expect from a band with such an outrageous image, there are flashes of humor. "Devil's Due" encourages us give proper respect to the devil, and "let him drink your wine/Drink your liquor," and "Sonic Demonic" opens with a less-than-earnest rendition of "Clap Hands for Jesus." But Might-Ay White-Ay is filled with dark songs. "King Tit" describes a man who spies on women and yearns for "sweet meat," exclaiming "what a joyous feeling/Sinking into something new." "Cheap Thrill" describes the debauchery one encounters on 42^nd Street, and "Rock to the Chin" exposes the violence in the ska scene.

When asked about the band's stark subject matter, Robinson becomes quite adamant. "We portray reality with some poetic license. We're truthful, even if we dwell on the darker side of life. I mean, as opposed to what? That sunny California, `my girlfriend has big tits' crap. That's doing a disservice to the kids. There's no violence, gore, or blood in our songs -- well, in some cases there are. But we don't shock. It's good music, as we see it. . . . . It's not glossed over and simple. It ain't that way, sorry."

That kind of honesty should help Mephiskapheles expand on their already large audience. But will they ever drop the devil-worshipping? "We have a good time with it," concludes Robinson. "It's a conceptual thing. It provides a jumping-off point and a creative guide. And it pisses off parents, which is one of the good things about rock and roll."

Mephiskapheles appear at midnight on December 9 at the Lucky Dog Music Hall. Call 363-1888.