March 23, 2003

Detox Rocking
In The Free World

Detox Darlings at Southpaw, Brooklyn 3/19/03
By Victoria Cross of New York Waste

JetSet Jenna, Spyder, Charles, Kenny and John Darling

Twas the night before Jihad and all through the land not a creature was stirring except for one glam rock band, Detox Darlings' whose van rolled down usually grid locked streets and across an eerily empty Manhattan Bridge. Pres. Bush 48 Hour warning to Sadam Hussien to pack up the palace and get outta Iraq had just expired. As the world gathered around their TVs waiting news from the front line, NYC's premier glam-punk posse was plugging into their line of Marshall amps at Southpaw, Brooklyn's newest entry into the best little scene since Seattle. On the Iraq/Kuwait and Park Slope/Downtown borders holy heck was about to break loose.

Produced by Spyder Darling "Thirst Things First" Detox Darlings eight song CD is a heat seeking sonic reducer and at Southpaw, a rare detour from their usual Continental, CBGB, Don Hills circuit, Detox proved that though thirst may be a priority (as evidenced by the number of Brooklyn Lagers consumed on stage, kicking the living snot out of their old school 70s style jams comes in a very close second.

Dissimilar to most lead singers shrieking their way to fame, fortune and future "Where Are They Now" episodes Detox Darlings chanteuse par excellence JetSet Jenna is more than just pent up rage. Whether she's rasping like a gutter cat (Smash Alley) out with a few not so bright gal pals (Zombie Doll) itching for something to do (Get Tattoos) or all dressed up with nowhere to go-go (Lounging In Leather) Jenna's pitch perfect pipes can purr like a kitten on Ecstasy, roar like a tigress in tight pants and left the brave souls at Southpaw who chose not to spend their potentially last hours on Earth glued to CNN panting for more.

Mixed in with the "more chops than a butcher shop" talent of the boyz in the band Detox Darlings come off as that rare breed of band that duck walks the tightrope between power and parody - a fine tuned, well rehearsed good time a la the Rat Pack's Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Co. who put in the hard work offstage to make it look nice'n easy once the party starts on-stage.

The outcome was a 45 minute set (no encore, to leave the crowd hungry for the band's next show at Continental on Mar. 29) with all the rock star trimmings - the wireless lead guitarist Charles Darling prowls the stage like a leather cheetah, firing off machine gun riffs with a flick of his wrist and toss of his meticulously messy hair and tattooed and unglued bassist Kenny Darling, arguably the best dressed man in rock'n roll, leaps around the stage like a Puerto Rican jumping bean all without losing the beat or knocking over his beer. It's custom made rock, hot as a bitch and guaranteed to scratch whatever itches ya.

Though the war in Iraqi and its potential impact on NYC were foremost in most people's minds, Detox Darlings were determined to give the motley mob on Southpaw's dance floor something else to think about. And it was clear from the ensuing shake, rattle and rolling, that for this night at least, the thunder of an apocalypse poised to happen in a place few could find on an unmarked globe was taking a blessed backseat to the righteous authority of the reform universal temple of rock'n roll.

Be it a "Ticket to Tokyo" or a round trip "Back To Hollywood" the only international politics JetSet Jenna and the Detox boyz are backing is a party of the all night variety; an agenda that calls for jailbait, stay out late "Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Cherry Bombs" instead of the atomic type. At the risk of blasphemy, to paraphrase John Lennon, the late, great ex-mop-top himself all Detox Darlings are saying, is give sleaze a chance.

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