X at 31: Still on target
Add yet another one to the list of shows we wish we had seen but somehow missed. Rock-writer extraordinaire and frequent Globe contributor Jonathan Perry caught the seminal LA punk band X at the Paradise last night, and we decided he had to share the experience....
Bassist John Doe and vocalist Exene Cervenka sang those sour-sweet harmonies; guitar- slinging Billy Zoom smiled beatifically as he nailed every note, riff, lick, and girl’s gaze in the room; and drummer D.J. Bonebrake kept everything speeding, smashing, and crashing along.
Together they were – and continue to be – the inimitable X from Los Angeles, still teeming with glittery glamour and name-checking Jacqueline Susann, devil dogs, white girls, and last but not least, Johny and the dastardly deed he did to unsuspecting Paulene. Still creepy and deliciously demented after all these years.
X was in town last night at the long-sold-out Paradise, celebrating the band’s 31st anniversary (give or take a few solo albums, acting jobs, and a few other distractions here and there), and it was on fire. Sure, the band’s brand of that slippery catch-all term “punk” was certainly that in style, attitude, and tempo. But X was also much, much more.
For a full 90 minutes, Zoom’s vastly underrated but absolutely essential guitar heroics kept the band revving on a sturdy but blazing foundation of barnhouse rockabilly, ‘50s sock-hop rock on steroids, and nonchalant precision. As for John and Exene, punk’s original star-crossed couple, the whole of their voices colliding together – insistent, desperate, vulnerable, thrilling – really was greater than the sum of their parts.
A stripped-down acoustic reading of “See How We Are” done as a duo during the band’s second encore was toweringly tender, a moment’s pause amid the din -- a gentle breeze inside the howling tornado. There’s a reason why, after all these years, new-jack “punk” bands scrabbling for a root sound don’t imitate the fiercely intelligent, fiercely fun, fiercely versatile X: They simply can’t.
We arrived early to catch a greasy good 60-minute set by openers the Detroit Cobras, whose retro R&B-stoked garage debauchery (girl-group sass meets Stax sex) was a perfect party table-setter for the headliners. The focal point was frontwoman Rachel Nagy, who channeled Bettie Page by way of biker-chick chic and possessed a voice loaded with swagger and husky soul.
A dude next to me in the men’s room during intermission wondered aloud if Nagy could beat Amy Winehouse in a fantasy (his) smackdown. No contest. After all, what’s tougher than a Cobra from Detroit?
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All that and more!! X is the great American rock band that never quite made it over the top (perhaps that's a good thing). No one has duplicated either the sound or energy yet. Add to that they are literate, funny, and above all can actually play their instruments and you have the most "unpunk" punk band there ever was. I took my 31 year old son to the show; he was shocked at how good it was, and he wasn't just patronizing his aging father. Already waiting for the next tour.