Romance

Pretty Boy Floyd, The Midnight Devils, Jet Black Romance

The Whisky, West Hollywood, CA., September 23, 2022

Review and Photo by Tony F. Corpse

Pure, blatant bravado wrapped up tightly in a sparkling and bejeweled satin coat. This aptly describes Nebraska honed, boogie woogie, glam/punk auteurs - The Midnight Devils. A seismic shifting charade on parade, who gave earnestly of their glorified three minute bubblegum metal that was as catchy as yersinia pestis during the black death.

Forcibly storming the barriers with The Sound Of Domination, The Devils proceeded to lay siege upon the onlookers with a tune heavy on Tigertailz meets Loudness riffage and periodic chants of Hey! which inspired unison audience chanting. Pure brilliance indeed. A rip roaring cover of Van Halen’s Panama was given due diligence and their rambunctious hit Highway 69 caused both testosterone and estrogen levels to exceed their maximum threshold. Sam Spade (Bass/Vocals/Ringmaster), Sniper (Guitar/Fret Devastation) and Jimmy Mess (Drums/42nd Street Stick Twirls) enforced the 21st century glam aesthetic. Gratuitously fantastic gravitas taken to the limit of garish grandstanding. Make way, the world is theirs now.

The Midnight Devils

Next up to pout and pound were Jet Black Romance, relatively new to the scene of surly rock ‘n roll abandon. This lot brought more of a gritty, down and dirty swagger (‘ala L.A.Guns and Dogs D’amour) combined with a brackish leather gypsy image, which seasons the musical palate quite nicely. Diving headlong into the glitter pool JBR reveled in four on the floor bombast and low slung chordal implementation. Simplistic yet direct whilst still groovy enough to necessitate cranium bobbing. Colton Seaver (Formerly of PBF and Leather Duchess) led his charismatic cretins through such stompers as Out For Blood, Midnite Sin and the venomous spite of Poisonous.

Not just meager maybelline, frocks and shock- Hollywood’s preening stalwarts Pretty Boy Floyd manned the stage with the force of Hurricane Ian, drowning everyone’s sorrows with the most exemplary example of well gestated sleaze. The battering double bass force of Leather Boyz With Electric Toyz rumbled innards, 48 Hours got the crowd wild and wooley and hair metal overlord Steve Summers sang with overt clarity and conviction, his nasal tinged mantras still powerful enough to peel paint.

The performances were essential this evening, bringing forth new blood in the form of vamped and camped rookies Jet Black Romance , a rising glitter and mascara tsunami called The Midnight Devils and of course The kings of Sunset Strip glam bam thank you ma’am Pretty Boy Floyd. I think I’ll go tease my hair now and rage to some Roxx Gang.