Rocket From the Crypt

When I was approached to write these notes for Rocket From the Crypt's new studio full-length, Live From Camp X-Ray, I figured I'd ramble shamelessly and endlessly about how unique and gifted they are, with their fingers firmly on the pulse of exactly what it is that the kids want to hear today and lots of shit like that. I'd also devote a paragraph or so to the individual members enough to satisfy their severely-inflated egos. Yes, they’re talented... Petey X is easily the best bassist north of Chula Vista and south of El Cajon... N.D. is pure bridled/unbridled fury (huh?)... Apollo 9 and JC2000 are a mighty impressive horn section and when they execute some of those choreographed moves it's easy to understand why all the girls wanna have sex with them... there is no dispute that as a drummer Ruby Mars is a frantic one-armed one-man battalion... and last but certainly not least, Speedo is... well, Speedo has enough problems already with exaggerated self-worth issues, so let's just say he is nearly as gifted as he thinks he is. And the icing on the cake is that they are all really snappy (not sappy) dressers.

The original title of this album,Violate Me Like The Disgusting Potato Bug That I Am, was abandoned after that 9/11 thing and it seems that at least a couple members of the band were considerably transformed after that incident, and although it was not a complete about-face, the album did noticeably change direction.

I've been warned by the band not to warble incessantly about Live From Camp X-Ray being a soundtrack for all things falling apart because it is, after all, considerably more than that. It's kinda about hope in the midst of growing mediocrity and ignorance... and it's about fighting desperately to extract some modicum of understanding whilst engulfed in blinding disgust. It’s that and it’s so much more, or maybe it's actually much less. But you probably don't even really care, cuz you just wanna jump on the night train, get lowdown and dirty and shake your tail feathers to the righteous Rocket Racket and forget how fucked up everything is for a little while.

Till when Rocketeers...
Over and way the fuck out.
Long Gone John