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 REVIEW Ghoul's Night Out Meet the Groovie Ghoulies--spook-rock heroes from the Island of Pogo Pogo. BY JOHN GRAHAM 243-2122 EXT. 253 |
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7 Seconds, Groovie Ghoulies, Pezz LaLuna Balcony, 215 SE 9th Ave., 241-5862 9:30 pm Friday, Jan. 15. $8 advance. Everyone loves--or damn well should love--the Groovie Ghoulies, the most adorable pop-punk band since Green Day began its deplorable rise to MTV teen stardom. After all, this troupe of Sacramento wackos has got so gosh-darn many things to like about 'em: cartoon-character cover art, super-catchy sing-along songs and a spookily kooky sense of humor that morphs monsters into huggable stuffed animals. When the Ghoulies arose in 1988, the one basic rule behind their Ramones-meet-the-Banana Splits pop was: It ain't broke, so ferchrissakes don't fix it. ("If something works, I just leave it alone," says the shrewd main Ghoul, Jeffery "Kepi" Alexander.) Guitar: Play three chords, then play 'em again--backwards. Drums: lotsa high-hat and snare. Bass: see guitar. Lyrics: see the Cramps, only change "sex" to "love." Finally, attitude: have fun and never grow up. To see the band play live is to see these elemental tenets put into hyperactive action: Kepi (in Green Lantern makeup) hops about like a cricket on whippets, chucking candy into the audience; red-haired Roach (Kepi's wife) plucks her guitar and grins; and the crowd is kept in a constant state of motion, swirling and sweating as it bounces to "Tunnel of Love," flounces to "Ghoulies Are Go!" and flops to "Chupacabra." It's the kind of revelatory revelry that makes one jump back and exclaim, "Why, it's so simple, anyone could do it!" Not everyone does, though. That's what makes the Ghoulies great. Inevitably, however, it's the band's cool horror-comic focus that draws people to the Ghoulies like zombies to brains. Certainly, it helps distinguish them from their post-Ramones peers, but it's not the only thing Kepi wants to be known for. "I don't want to get pigeonholed into this Halloween band/Misfits thing," he says, his high-pitched voice sounding more sprightly than you'd expect from a 34-year-old. "But I seem to end up writing those songs anyway." Whether the intent is there or not, the Ghoulies' graveyard schtick makes for some killer metaphors. A typical lovestruck-loser ballad becomes a supernatural make-out number ("Zombie Crush"), a punky dance anthem is turned into a '50s B-movie ("The Island of Pogo Pogo") and an outcast girl is transmogrified into a multitalented creature ("The Beast with Five Hands"). Such shenanigans are inspired by Kepi's childlike love of cartoons, Saturday matinees and collectible toys. He's amassed a vault's worth of groovy goodies and action figures featuring such favorite characters as Batman and the Addams Family. He shies away from becoming an obsessive collector, though, the type who flocks to conventions dressed like Spock, with his homemade phaser set to "hoard." For Kepi, once things get beyond "Ooh, I like that, it's neat," they've gone too far. "I'm a collector, but I don't touch Star Wars or the Beatles," he explains. "It's too big.... It gets too competitive, and there's lots of weirdos. I love toys and monsters and all that, but I don't want to become materialistic and geeky about it." He views his musical career similarly--it's an enjoyable hobby as much as a job. Why worry about money and market value when you can pogo 'til you puke? Sure, it's immature, but it's better than living like so-called "professional" musicians who split their attention between chord charts and Billboard charts. In an era when labels market their groups like insurance and bands think about sales figures before songwriting, to call the Ghoulies' innocence refreshing is like saying Frankenstein objected to torches. Growing up isn't really an issue, anyway. Even though Kepi is in his mid-30s, he's outlasted most punks half his age--and he's not shopping for a rocking chair any time soon. "Some people play all-ages shows and feel old, but I believe in the power of rock'n'roll keeping you young," he says, arguing that Iggy Pop and the Cramps can grace the stage well into middle age without sacrificing too much credibility. "Do what you want and accept who you are. If people don't like it, tell 'em to leave. If you're true to yourself, people will stick around." Speaking of sticking around, expect the Groovies' upcoming Lookout! record, Fun in the Dark, to lodge itself in your skull like that brain-control bug from Star Trek II. Their last, Re-Animation Festival, was as mighty a slice of punk-pop pie as one could find in the '90s, and Kepi excitedly claims this new disc's got "more of a spark, more of a feeling of family." That's thanks to bass guitar playing from B-Face, who left the Queers to tour with the Ghoulies. Kepi says their familiarity with each other made songwriting duties speed by quicker than a sprinting Bigfoot. Don't take his word for it, though; go to the show and buy Fun in
the Dark when it's released (in March). You'll soon realize the
secret of the Groovie Ghoulies--that they're so good, it's scary.
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