*1/2 The Misfits

AMERICAN PSYCHO

(Geffen)

I've always maintained that the Misfits were much, much more than just a band who fused '50s greaser rock-and-roll signifiers, drive-in era horror movies, and early-'80s punk-rock attitude, even if those were their most identifiable calling cards. The Misfits were my Elvis. So when founding member Jerry Only re-formed the band two years ago, after a protracted lawsuit over the franchise with original frontman Glenn Danzig, I was willing to settle for an imitation, and that imitation -- Jerry and brother Doyle with new singer Michale Graves and drummer Dr. Chud -- was able and willing to provide things the old Misfits couldn't or wouldn't. New T-shirts. A tour, with clear versions of old favorites the original Misfits rarely or never performed. Most important, an acknowledgment of the unrequited love I'd had listening to scratchy EPs and ill-recorded bootlegs.

But the new Misfits album doesn't even aspire to the old magic. Instead, it's shameless in its devotion to the old simplistic image, which is salvageable only when it makes the most obvious references to the glory days ("Blacklight" is a lesser "Where Eagles Dare," "Resurrection" cops the "Astro Zombies" riff, "Crimson Ghost" steals the phrasing from "Mommy Can I Go Out and Kill Tonight"). And though I'll always be in debt to Jerry and Doyle for permitting me the illusion of a Misfits live show, American Psycho is an illusion I can't embrace.

-- Carly Carioli