The Mishaps threw a party on Friday to commemorate the release of their new album on vinyl. For $10 everybody got a copy, on LP and CD, plus a damn good show. DC’s The Shirks and Baltimore’s The Cold Cold Heartbreakers came out to support The Mishaps in front of a crowd that challenged the capacity of Sonar’s The Talking Head Club. What follows is a review of the show and of the album.


Sorry there was no heads-up on this show on the calendar. To be honest, I had other plans that night. They involved a redhead and they fell through. This show was an attempt to salvage the evening. Considering my mood, The Shirks had me at “hello” with their aggressive punk. I could barely understand a word of their lyrics and I didn’t care. The Shirks don’t try to be cute or clever with their music or their stage presence. Their loud and fast delivery does a great job of gearing up the crowd as an opening act, but I hope to catch them as headliners some evening.

If Mike Ness fronted a southern rock group, it would be like The Cold Cold Heartbreakers. Maybe their energy did not pick up where The Shirks left off, but they engaged the crowd with a set that was equal parts alt-country and punk. They offer a great accompaniment for getting hammered.

There was palpable anticipation for this Mishaps’ set, which was the album tracklist; the crowd included members of other amazing Baltimore bands such as The Hot Pursuit and The Expotentials, and those were among the most enthusiastic gathered there. Keyboard historicizes a rock band, putting it in discourse with 60s garage roots. However, the feeling is neither nostalgic nor ironic with The Mishaps. Beth’s keyboard is distinctive but it still blends with the boys’ guitars. This was my first time hearing a frontman announce that we were about to hear the second side of the record in the middle of the set, but it did let the crowd know that we were entering the home stretch. The entire set was nothing but boisterous, fun rock.

As is, of course, The Mishaps’ self-titled album. It’s all driving, bob-your-head-and-make-rock-faces-as-you-listen, rock, in all its glory. They claim that the whole thing was recorded live, with minimal overdubbing and arrangement. The recordings are just as vital as the live in-club experience, but cleaner. Side One is an homage to prog with metal and garage layers, as if Jack Black wrote a few songs for The Who. Songs entitled Thorr Hammer (with tasty Motorhead riffs) and Valkyrie have appropriately cheesy lyrics, and I’m rocking along to them shamelessly. The first side ends with the anthem “How The Mishaps Came to Conquer Rock and Roll.” The song begins with an epic guitar and keyboard prelude. Here is a sampling of the lyrics, provided helpfully on the vinyl record’s dust jacket.

Far above the skies across the highest mountains.

Far beneath the waves across the crushing seas.

Five riders in black as dawn approaches;

The fist of doom, the people’s need.

Ever watchful. Always onward.

The restless specter.

We’ve come to rule.

Someday I am going to edit a volume of hymns to the righteous glory of rock, and that one is going to make the cut.

Side Two pretty much drops the prog camp and just rocks out. Highlights for me are “Don’t Mind,” “You Know,” and “Layin’ Low.” These songs about lustful “young, dumb, and white” adolescants are like the canonized romantic crap Springsteen was putting out three decades ago, stripped of all pretense. Which if funny, given the other flavors of 70s pretense The Mishaps play with elsewhere.

With prog rock and metal, there is a thin line between authenticity and kitsch, and it is walked precariously by the Meat Loafs of this world. The Mishaps stay just on this side of the line. If they ever catch on with a major label I’m afraid they may become a one-off joke like The Darkness. But at its best rock-n-roll is about the here-and-now, so right now I can’t wait to see The Mishaps again and I’m glad I have their new record — on two media!