The Starwood, 7-4-77.
Slash Magazine Vol. 1 #3.


What's this "party" business anyway? Where were the chips and guacamole dip? I'm very definite about what's a party and what's not. Lots of people are very definite about letting me in or not at THEIR party. But they wouldn't mind Shock crashing it, 'cause Shock are real nice and not shocking at all. The hostess would find them cute and well-behaved. It would be a nice evening unless The Screamers burst in, at which point the host would call the fire department and lock himself in the bathroom.

The Screamers are exponents of electro- therapy rock, and they even look it. You can almost smell the ether and hear the muffled gargles comin' from behind padded doors when they are onstage. Brain cells shrivel and eyeballs roll inward, forgotten muscles start twitching, foreign sounds come out of the throat. A definite departure from the routine. Even when they do slow songs like "Gloomy Sunday," the tension remains. There are slow songs and slow songs, and The Screamers do the latter kind. "Ziggy Stardust came out 5 years ago, and now it's SHIT! In five years, punk will be SHIT!" screams Tomato before the skull-crushing "Peer Pressure." Punks with a sense of history. Will these marvel-filled days never end? Will I ever sleep again?

All this commotion made it very hard for Backstage Pass to successfully carry the rest of the evening. Not mentioning the disturbing continuous barrage of firecrackers aimed at the performers. Why not frisbees, you anonymous peasants?