The Misfits: Famous Monsters

The Misfits: Famous Monsters The Misfits
Famous Monsters
(Roadrunner, 1999)

THEY SAID it couldn’t be done. The first chapter was too horrific—who could possibly stomach another episode? Humanity surely wouldn’t stand for… a second Misfits record without Glenn Danzig? Indeed, 1997’s American Psycho had been such an affront to the punk rock universe, so universally and thoroughly rejected, that no one thought the Danzig-less Misfits would have the balls to come back. Well, like the horror movies they drew so much inspiration from, these muscle-bound haunt-rockers proved there will always be a sequel no matter how many people protest, so long as the franchise remains profitable. Lord knows their Crimson Ghost emblem was moving enough t-shirts, shoelaces, and belt buckles in the late ’90s to keep Lodi’s finest on unshakable terra firma.

Thus, founding bassist Jerry Only and his crew of gum-chewing Jersey boys dropped Famous Monsters in 1999, a record that caught many a cynical rocker off guard when it turned out to be pretty damn good. Leaning on a larger, spookier, more metal sound, Famous Monsters vastly improves upon its Geffen-stamped cartoon doom, punk-lite predecessor. This is real, honest-to-goodness fright rock—heck, you can almost taste the dry ice billowing out of Doyle’s gargantuan amplifiers as he unloads scathing riff upon scathing riff. Vocalist Michale Graves graduates from male cheerleader to full-fledged graveyard Goulet, tossing off delightfully soaring choruses on slap-chop moshes like “Witch Hunt” and “Pumpkin Head.” Producer Daniel Rey seems to have buried everything in the red; this lends an immediacy and attack to Famous Monsters that American Psycho sorely lacked. You can love it, you can hate it, but you can’t say the darn thing isn’t loud.

The Misfits cover all the lyrical bases on this one, from outer space bull honkey to creepy cornfield shenanigans to Boxing Helena (yeah, you read that right). They even manage to concoct a track that harkens back to their early ’80s glory days—the suspenseful, straightforward charger “Them.” Based on the 1950s oversized atomic ant thriller of the same name, the song begins with a chilling approximation of the unsettling racket the insects in the film made before launching into a rollicking proto-metal exercise that tells of “exoskeleton horror” and the “Bible prophecy” coming true, unless we blast these ants back to the gol’durn stone age. It’s easily the least corny track on Famous Monsters, which, granted, isn’t saying much about an album that opens with a King Kong-themed instrumental that segues into a song about Planet of the Apes. Look, we know what we’re dealing with here. We should just be happy the Misfits didn’t give us a somber ballad dedicated to the Creature from the Black Lagoon (although they did include a ballad that suggests some kind of relation to B-grade teen slasher flicks like I Know What You Did Last Summer).

There are a handful of serious missteps on FM (as the fans call it), including an overwrought attempt to latch on to Wes Craven’s then-current Scream franchise, the dreaded “our fans are so awesome” song (“Fiend Club”), and that awful Thomas Kincaid reject painting on the cover. Overall, though, Famous Monsters was a step in the right direction for this zombified incarnation of America’s most legendary horror-rock outfit. It’s unfortunate these guys couldn’t hold their act together all that far into the new millennium. October 25, 2000 saw the dissolution of Misfits 2.0 when Graves and drummer Dr. Chud, citing bassist Jerry Only’s tyrannical bullshit, quit the band during a disastrous gig in Orlando, FL. In the aftermath, Only swore to keep the legacy of brutality alive as long as he possibly could; currently, the Misfits are a trio consisting of Jerry on vocals backed by former Black Flag members Robo and Dez Cadena (that’s right—even brother Doyle has bailed on Jer at this point). Since Famous Monsters, the Misfits have released no original material, although they did put out a record of doo-wop covers, a record featuring lounge versions of their classic Danzig tunes, and a collection of Graves-era B-sides/rarities.

So it looks like this stands as the final chapter in the saga of the Misfits, those devilocked rapscallions who’ve stolen our hearts and wallets a thousand times over. Famous Monsters may never ascend to the lofty heights of the band’s initial Danzig-helmed material, but like American Psycho, it occupies its own acre of provincial awesome in a town where most people fear to tread (read: Post-Reagan horror punk). As far as bookends go, it’s no Let It Be, but it sure beats the pants off the last live action Ninja Turtles movie. Isn’t that all we’re really looking for in entertainment these days? A better experience than Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III? By that accord, Famous Monsters should have won a few Grammys.

Watch: “Pumpkin Head” set to montage of clips from the movie Pumpkinhead [at youtube.com]

Tags: Misfits, Famous Monsters, Jerry Only, Michale Graves