Crazy again

The return of the Misfits

by Don Fluckinger

It sounds like a classic punk-rock story, the way original Misfits bassist and cofounder Jerry Only tells it, laughing: a couple years ago he's in a Manhattan hotel, running into some bad luck with security people and getting thrown out.

Then comes the twist: the person calling the security thugs isn't some buttoned-down hospitality manager who can't tolerate a leather-clad troublemaker having some fun -- it's Glenn Danzig (the person), former lead singer of the Misfits and current leader of Danzig (the band), harshly telling his former mates to buzz off.

"I approached him for two reasons," Only says, a bit more seriously. "One, because I thought the fans deserved a shot at putting the original line-up together. . . . If I went and approached Glenn and he said no, I was no worse off. Second, it gave me the position when that one-out-of-a-hundred kids comes up to you and says, `I wish Glenn was in the band,' I say, `Look, I asked him. He said no. That's the end of the story. If you want to call him and ask him, go ahead.'"

At that point, the Misfits of yore were dead. The New Jersey punk band who creatively meshed punk rock and horror-movie themes to create potent, radically interesting music were gone. So they went out and got a new singer-screamer, 22-year-old Michale Graves, and recorded an album without Danzig.

They're pretty hilarious now, fully realizing the silly caricature that's taken way too seriously in punk lore. To some, it was a risky move, to many others, a dubious endeavor. How could the Misfits possibly be the Misfits without that menacing, powerful baritone that shook zombies from their graves? How could they recapture the spirit of one of the great punk bands of all time? They couldn't and didn't.

Only, Graves, and the drummer and guitarist from the Misfits' heyday -- Dr. Chud and Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein -- created the Misfits anew, and it is this line-up that will play the Palladium tomorrow night. Old fans from the punk scene, they don't go near them. The new album, American Psycho, is cleaner, punchier, completely devoid of that garage mystique that made the first incarnation of the Misfits so amazing. They sound like a speed-metal band with catchy '60s-pop roots. They still sing kitschy paeans to horror movies with titles like "From Hell They Came," "Mars Attacks," and "Shining." But the menace is gone.

The whole thing looks like a giant cash-in until you talk to Only. It took him nine years of wretched legal wrangling with Danzig and Caroline Records to get custody of the Misfits name. Working in a machine shop, he scraped together funds to fight them one motion at a time. People who want to cash in give up this kind of fight long before they win.

"Glenn wasn't out promoting Misfits," Only says of the days following the group's 1983 break-up. "If anything he was anti-promoting it, talking bad about everybody saying, `That band sucked; my new band's great.'

"[Now] our band's out there working . . . everybody's gotta work real hard. No one's going to walk out on our stage and take us, it's just not gonna happen. The band is better than it ever was, and that's obvious."

Now the Misfits play gigs -- in the same old leather garb, downright demonic hair, and zombie makeup -- with Anthrax, Megadeth, and other metal bands who idolize them. They draw the teenage guys, as they did the first time around, who are sick and tired of pop radio. They're a cult band with a new cult following, and a reactivated Fiend Club fan base 10,000 members strong.

After recording American Psycho with Geffen, the band and label parted ways. That's another good thing, Only says. Misfits memorabilia has been collected for years, with original-pressing singles and EPs selling for hundreds of dollars, sometimes more. At first, Geffen let the band have control of packaging and graphics and even issued stickers and trading cards; later, they tightened the purse strings.

Now on their own, they can feed the fans the colored vinyl, the posters, the accouterments in the do-it-yourself tradition that made the Misfits a cultural happening, replete with skulls and bones, and letters dripping with fluorescent inks. And they've put enough resources together to be able to tour quite a bit, going to Japan last November and Europe this spring. Only sees the current line-up recording new material for years to come, cameo appearances in movies, and bigger tours with more props and elaborate stage sets that magnify the horror theater they've always performed.

The Misfits play at 6:30 p.m. on March 21 at the Palladium. Shadow's Fall, Marky Ramone and the Intruders, and Tree open. Tickets are $15. Call 797-9696.