Fuck Christmas With FEAR – Live At Alex’s Bar, CA

Without a doubt, this was one of the best shows I have attended in many years. My friend Ben Vagnozzi called me and said he had two tickets that he could not use, so he gave them to me. I was absolutely giddy as I rushed out the door with my good friend Cathy in tow. What an amazing unexpected (and unplanned) Christmas gift, and a wonderful way for me to end 2023. Sadly, my father died on January 11th 2024, so I have not felt like writing this show review until now. 

Amazingly, I made the journey from Rancho Cucamonga to Long Beach in time to see Spider open the show. Spider jams! Write that down. Remember it. Spider is clearly one of the best punk rock bands out there today, and it is a puzzling wonder why they are not signed to a label. Somebody take care of that. Spider is a sonic beast, and bassist Brian is one exceptionally volatile animal. Whenever I watch that guy play, he reminds me of a bucking bull as he charges about, head-banging, and feeling every note. If you get too close, you might feel the notes too if the neck and head of his instrument connects with your noggin. Vocalist Hector’s microphone twirling and tossing is also a physical threat to people like me who are always up front. He’s just trying to enlighten us all with deep lyrics, high jumps and an occasional bullhorn. Temporary drummer Mikki Crash is so solid and powerful, I honestly do not understand how he does not break the drum heads or more sticks. Then there is Karl on guitar. When he plays, it seems like the guitar came to roaring life on its own, and he is putting a lot of effort into controlling the untamed spirit that possesses his instrument. The crowd had not yet come to life enough yet, so Karl said to the audience: “I know you’re all old, but you can all move around a bit.” That got a slam pit of three guys going. Every song this band plays is great, so be sure to pick up their latest EP, Death Match. Every show this band performs is epic see it live if you get the chance. You can thank me later. 

Next up was an enjoyable three-piece called Hardship Anchors. I would not call this punk rock, but the band played some pretty good punkish-rock. I thought Trevor, the guitarist/vocalist sounded a lot like Fat Mike of NOFX, but better. The music was chunky and upbeat with some catchy riffs that were still echoing in my mind after the group finished its set. These local Long Beach boys seem friendly enough with their good stage presence and handsome appearance that surely ensures them plenty of dates. I was thinking just that, when the band played Bored, Sad, and Lonely, so maybe they don’t get so much action. I don’t know, but this is a good band that may have been just a bit out of place on this bill, but good enough to keep the room full and everybody happy. 

Cerritos’ finest then took the stage, but you probably know them best as Channel Three, or perhaps CH3. While the band was setting up, some friendly drunk guy standing next to me said: “These guys played their first show in my mom’s kitchen.” I wondered if that was true or was it random drunk talk. People began to press forward to the stage and the crowd size multiplied by a factor of three (get it?). The set began with What About Me? and if my notes are correct, guitarist/vocalist Mike said this song had never been played live. I wonder why. Just before the second song, he said: “See if you can keep up with this one,” but I guess I could not keep up, because I did not write it down.

A guy named Geoff played his tenor sax on this song, and he also played with the long-time crowd favorite You Make Me Feel Cheap. By this time, the old guy slam pit was in full force. A friend of the band, (He told me his name, but I forgot it), dressed in a cheap Santa Claus suit got on stage and started throwing out little trinkets and some genuinely good candy. I got a big pack of giant Smarties. As you might expect, CH3 was in fine form, everyone enjoyed it, and the set ended with…what else? I Got a Gun. CH3 had never sounded better. Great set!  Also worthy of your attention is Mike Magrann’s book, Miles Per Gallon, which I thoroughly enjoyed, so look for my book review on the mighty, mighty thepunksite.com. Here is an interesting bit of synchronicity, when I got home that night from the show, I sat down on the toilet to read some of Mike’s book and I read: “And finally, we dared to play at an actual house party thrown by my old motocross buddy, Dave. An actual party, a gig”. Synchronicity is a weird and interesting thing. 

Just before FEAR‘s Lee Ving entered the venue, some of his people cleared a path for Lee to walk the short distance from the door to the stage. I wondered why that was necessary, then I found out. When Lee entered, I was shocked. I had a false, unrealistic image of him in my mind that was created in the 1980s. He was strong, virile and a genuine intimidating presence. The man who briefly glanced at me and said; “How ya doin’?” was frail, thin and shorter than I remembered. He carefully climbed the three steps onto the stage and the audience erupted into cheers as Lee smiled broadly. “Merry Christmas mother fuckers!” he said, and the audience cheered even louder. He seemed to be a bit wobbly, and I wondered if he was up to the task. Suddenly, 1234!1234! he shouted, his voice and spirit strong as ever. As the band broke into The Mouth Don’t Stop, it was clear to everyone that Lee still had it, and we were going to get it. 

Just after the first song, someone shouted: Saturday Night Live! in reference to the band’s infamous SNL appearance on Halloween, 1981, that turned into a total melee on live national television. It was the only time in SNL history that the show cut off a musical performer to go to a commercial. I was fortunate to have seen that live on TV when I was 18-years-old. “Yeah, Saturday Night Live was boss!” Lee replied. He then sang Blue Christmas accappella, and it sounded pretty damn great. During Foreign Policy, I took a look at the churning slam pit of old guys and marveled at how drunk people could thrash about like that without spilling most of their drinks. 

Speaking of marvelous, that kid Eric Razo on guitar is truly phenomenal. Yes, long-time drummer Spit Stix (Tim Leitch) is still solid as ever, and bassist Geoff Kresg (formerly with AFI, Tiger Army and Horrorpops) is a pummeling beast, but Razo seemed to steal the show at times with his incredible blues-based, heavy metal-punk riffs and emotive anaerobic physical style of playing. I thoroughly enjoyed one of my personal FEAR favorites, Camarillo, (all one minute, nine seconds of it), followed by We Destroy the Family, Disconnected, and somewhere in there was Fresh Flesh. Have a Beer With Fear? Yes, they played that while people did that. More Beer? Of course they played that along with another of my personal favorites, Let’s Have A War. The last song of the evening? Fuck Christmas of course. Lee ended the show by wishing us all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. No encore. It was an obscene, offensive, beer-soaked wonderful time. Thanks again for the tickets Ben.

As Lee turned to exit the stage, my friend Cathy extended her hand to shake his. Smiling, Lee glanced at her, took her hand, and used it to steady himself as he carefully descended the stairs.