The Casualties at the Knitting Factory, New York, NY, November 10, 2006

Props to the nice staff at the Knitting Factory that worked the night that gutter-punk homeboy gang the Casualties played. Whoever was working that night understood how to treat the crowd. The bartenders in the main room set up pitchers of ice water and plastic cups so the exhausted, sweaty kids wouldn't die of dehydration and/or heat stroke. And the bartenders were nice about it. They happily provided refills and extra cups. It was confusing and more than a little astonishing. Much like the fact that the Casualties are still in existence.

Jorge of the Casualties at the Knitting Factory, 11/10/06. Photo by Jeanne Fury, © 2006 NYRock.com.

Their name is not only synonymous with NYC punk during the '90s but also with the largest, most colorful Mohawks this writer has seen throughout her illustrious career. The Casualties' latest album Under Attack was released this year and boasted the most blatant political songs since they formed in 1990. Jorge (the only original member left), Rick, Jake, and Meggers may have been the ones on stage playing the instruments, but the show belonged to the die-hard kids in the crowd who stomped, moshed, and danced to every single song. It's funny – Casualties fans don't age much. Either everyone is mainlining Botox or it's a sign that the band has been adding more and more bodies to its fan base – dubbed the "Casualties Army." (Scarves embroidered with the phrase were available for $20 at the merch booth. Not exactly the kind your Aunt Mildred knits, but charming nonetheless.) As such, everyone is young, limber, and tireless. So when the theme music to Indiana Jones blared through the air signaling the band's arrival, everyone was ready to rock the scabies out of each other.

Jorge showed up with a full head of bleached-blond splinters, Jake with a lime-green Mohawk, Rick with short, yellow spikes, and Meggers with half his head blond, the other half black. "How many Latinos are out there?" Jorge hollered. "How many dumb white guys are out there?" countered Jake. They opened with "Under Attack," and from that point on, my limbs were squished together like damp gummy worms. The only reprieve I got was when I could lunge one way or the other, but even that was temporary. Nothing says "fun" like having your face mashed into someone's spiked jacket. Jorge was rocking his dictator pose, gesticulating with one arm raised, making an A-OK sign when he hit on something especially important. His savage, primitive punk vocals lashed right through "Riot," "Fight For Your Life," "Tomorrow Belongs To Us," "Enemies of Society," and a hardcore rendition of "Blitzkreig Bop." He mentioned that he's going to be a father soon and somehow this was the intro for "Ugly Bastard." Jake made a point of saying there is no difference between the band and the crowd, and the number of kids onstage made you believe him.

A Tribute to the 30th Anniversary of Punk Rock to Benefit Max's Kansas City Project at the Gibson Entertainment Showroom, New York, NY, December 14, 2006

It's rare when Otto Luck and I get to spend a night on the town together. Otto is usually very busy thinking up business ideas (ask him about his plan to revive the AM radio) while I'm usually very busy being very extremely busy. Such is the life of trend-setting high-rollers. But we decided to head on over to the Gibson showroom in midtown mainly because one of our favorite people, Jayne County, would be in attendance. It's not every day we get to see the original rock-and-roll translady (and her voluminous hair) perform. Of course, it also meant that we'd be supporting the Max's Kansas City Project – a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping out artists in need of health care, housing, and legal aid. They also help educate kids on the dangers of substance abuse, as the Max's era has seen too many creative people drop dead from junk.

We navigated our way through the showroom and found ourselves downstairs in what looked like a large basement with a makeshift stage. Jimi LaLumia and the Psychotic Frogs were playing bawdy punk rock, notably, a cover of Jayne County's "Fucked by the Devil" and their very excellent CBGB tirade, "New York City Song." Everyone was shouting the chorus – "What's that smell?! CB-GB!" – including Ms. County. Then there was a raffle. I asked Otto if raffles were common back in the heyday of Max's. Otto shook his head. "There's a certain element of violence missing," he informed me. Then I punched him in the face and we ambled home. Stay off the junk, kids.

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