Agent Orange – Live At The Whisky

Yes, another Agent Orange show review, and aren’t you lucky to be reading it? Of course it was a great time, and this show was rather special because I took my ASVAB (military entrance exam) student Justin along, and we had backstage access. That is a big deal for a guy who grew up in a tiny Texas town and had never seen a two-story building until he came to California. Seeing the HOLLYWOOD sign on the hill blew his mind too. Outside of the club, I ran into Perry Giordano, bassist for Agent Orange and told him I had a request. I wanted to hear “Fire in the Rain.” He said that he and Agent Orange drummer Sandy Hanson were discussing earlier that day how they both wanted to play that song, but Mike was not quite ready to dust off that old classic. 

Good Day had just finished its set when we entered the club. “What the fuck is that?” I wondered out loud as I looked at the stage and saw guitarist/vocalist Nhldug shouting A cappella obscenities while clad only in tight red underwear with his prominent package dominating the scene. I took Justin upstairs to the backstage area and unexpectedly ran into Nhldug. I asked him what that was all about. He said: “We all have things we hate, this is how I express mine.” I showed him my notebook and he said: “I like that. You did not like it.” His soft-spoken and friendly demeanor was the complete opposite of what I saw onstage. It is a good thing I missed this band because I found a few things online by Good Day and I really do hate it. Not much was going on backstage, but Justin and I felt kind of special to be there.

On the extreme other end of the spectrum was the incredible Mexican-psychedelic-surf-grunge-banda group known as Los Alamos. These guys were great from the start, with a big and heavy buzztone that saturated the wall of sound that enveloped me. The super-dirty bass tone reminded me of Luna Vision of Apollo 03. The band had no horns, but it seemed like trumpets were wafting through somehow. Los Alamos conjured phantom music that swirled within the actual music. I think these guys are curanderos (Mexican shamans) with musical instruments. Did I get any of the names of the songs? No. I was too busy enjoying it. I told some guy next to me: “This band is great!” and he proudly said: “Those are my sons! The singer and the bass player. All those guys have been friends since high school!” He then took my notebook and wrote: “Bass: Alec Castillo. Singer: Adam Castillo. Dad: Augie Castillo.” Adam is definitely a BIG boy, but his dance moves are smooth and his voice is sweet as azucar. At times, I was reminded of Ozomatli, the famous Mexican fusion group, but Los Alamos is more raw and not overproduced. Orlae!

Up next was a five-piece ensemble called The Vincenzos. It sounds like a crime family name or somebody’s favorite pizza joint, but this is actually another great genre-fusing rock ‘n’ roll band. The sound was poppy, upbeat, and fast, with a solid rock base with some Americana and punk rock thrown in here and there for some extra spice. The band’s rendition of Jimmy Cliff’s “The Harder They Come” was wonderful and injected with a bit of extra intensity. Many wah pedal leads were served piping hot throughout the set. One song (I have no idea of the title) involved a trippy, spacy, muffled, bass solo that reminded me of something Phil Lesh of The Grateful Dead would do. Lead vocalist/guitarist Vincent Brue is an impressive and talented guitar player who affably chats between songs, but I have no idea what he was talking about. At one point during the set, a woman who appeared to be close to my age joined the band to dance around, shimmying and shaking like the Go Go dancers used to do in the early days of The Whisky A Go Go. It was a whimsical stunt that brought a smile to my face, but may I politely say (ahem) she should not have taken off the fur coat. The audience was dancing too, and they kept their shirts on. The Vincenzos put out an album entitled: “Life and Chenz in L.A. back in May of 2025. You should check it out.

Dexter Drive then took the stage and they brought with them four large TV screens to add some creative visuals to their performance. It looked like a lot of work to set them up, but the result was worth it. During the early portion of the band’s set, the songs were accompanied by visual art that more or less coincided with the lyrical content. While vocalist Jimi Waterman belted out words about broken systems, the Cold War, and death in the big city, we were entreated to a cascade of visual art consisting of montages of Trump mockery, distorted images of that fuckhead known as JD Vance, goofy video clips of Jeffrey Epstein, the racist fascist Hegseth pouring alcohol all over his own face, all mixed with random images like writhing worms and…things. It was funny and clever. My notes read: “Elvis: Make the World Go Away.” Weird, I don’t remember this, but they must have played a version of that.

What I do remember is that Dexter Drive was great the last time I saw them at The Whisky opening for 45 Grave back in 2023, and they are even better now. That time, they played a ripping cover of The Door’s “LA Woman.” We got to hear it again this time, and it gave me the chills to think The Doors played that song many times on the same stage. Dexter Drive gets extra points for several guitar solos with super-cool wah pedal effects and lyrics that actually mean something. You really should give Dexter Drive a listen if you enjoy high-energy punk rock that is played with skill and purpose. This band is tight in both the physical and figurative sense. It is one of those bands that jams, plays often, and does not get enough attention.

While Tokyo Riot was setting up their gear, I noticed the audience was getting thicker and there were a lot of people wearing Tokyo Riot shirts. I anticipated something good and my hunch was correct. Tokyo Riot punched me in the face with some hard-hitting punk rock with a sharp metal edge, in a Rage Against the Machine/Motörhead kind of way. The energy level went up to 11 and the dance floor became a writhing, churning, mass of bodies of people who were slamming, headbanging, and spazzing out in unique and individual ways. It reminded me of the early days of punk rock before the circle pit became the standard norm. Just for old times’ sake, I did the pogo a bit. Being a new fan from this point forward, I was unfamiliar with the song names, but one that really stood out was “Skin.” This high-velocity, charging number pulled me in while the crowd simultaneously swept me away into a few unplanned trips around the circle pit vortex. Tokyo Riot cranks out some heavy and infectious riffs which are now a regular part of my playlist. The bands latest album is entitled “A Night in Tokyo” and it is available from Golden Robot Records.

Agent Orange was up next, so I took Justin upstairs, and used our coveted all-access status to stake out a spot on the stairs right next to the stage. When vocalist/guitarist Mike walked by, I told him I wanted to hear “Fire in the Rain.” He smiled, and told me he had heard others wanted to hear that too, but he had a lot going on in his life at this time, so he did not have time to relearn it just yet. The crowd began to collect at the front of the stage and the eager-eyed young ones made me smile.

I thought the first tune was a cover of Dick Dale’s “Miserlou,” but I was wrong. I think it was The Chantay’s “Pipeline,” but I am probably still wrong. Without a doubt, the second song was “Everything Turns Grey,” which was immediately followed by “Breakdown,” with the erudite lyrics: “I don’t want to think about it/ who, what, when, or where/ I don’t want to think about it/ I don’t really care.” I watched one young teenage boy jumping up and down, tightly gripping the edge of the stage as he sang every word. If any of you think Agent Orange is not punk enough, be informed that their rendition of Dead Kennedys’ “Police Truck” is spot-on and every bit as good as the original. We all got a huge kick out of that one.

This was an amazing set. After all, Mike, Perry, and Sandy have decades of live performance experience, and the synergy they conjure is magnificent. Agent Orange is a well-oiled machine with every part working exactly as it should. I have been enjoying this band live since the early 1980s, and it just keeps getting better. Music transcends time, so the 18-year-old me nodded along in my mind while the 62-year me nodded along in the physical present to the ever-popular “Bloodstains.” Of course the audience went wild for that one. This time, that song had a weird, slow interlude that built back up again, inclusive of a few more riffs from “Police Truck,” and back again to the regular version. Brilliant. After a few more tunes, like “I Kill Spies,” and “Mr. Moto,” the show ended appropriately with “The Last Goodbye.” No encore. Go home.

After the show, I went back upstairs to say goodnight, but Mike, Perry, and Sandy were not there. I saw an old friend I had not seen for decades. You might know him. His name is Rick Kosick. You may know him from his work with Jackass, Wildboyz, many famous photographs, and his long list of cinematography work. We used to skateboard together at The Upland Pipeline back in the ‘80s. On the way out, I showed a professional photographer the awesome photo I took of Perry (the one you see here in this show review.) He said nothing, gave me a very condescending smile, and handed me his business card. I looked at it, and threw it in the trash. Fuck that guy.

Thanks again to Agent Orange bassist Perry Giordano for putting me, Justin, and Cathy on the guest list. One more thing: Mike! Agent Orange needs a new promotional photo! I would be glad to do that for you. I would consider it a privilege.