For those arguing that rock 'n' roll is truly the devil's music, they might just have the evidence they need in the form of local combo Grave Danger. It's not the band's sound -- which isn't really satanic rock, but actually a kind of surf-tinged rockabilly. Nor is it the songs -- usually sprite instrumentals or cartoonish tales of drunken and homicidal mayhem. It's just that whenever this trio hits the stage, the audience -- composed of normally upstanding citizens and community members -- follows the band down a road of booze-fueled hedonism, excess and good old-fashioned destructive fun.
Revived after a lengthy absence this past year, Grave Danger has been earning praise, popularity and costly repair bills for a series of performances that have seen band members passing out, diving into crowds, destroying stages and shaving their heads onstage. Taking their cues from well-imbibed showstoppers (Janis Joplin, George Jones, Foster Brooks), a Grave Danger concert makes folks forget God, good manners and city ordinances, leaving most venues drowning in a post-show ocean of blood, sweat and broken bottles. Forget the old bit about a rock 'n' roll heaven. If there's a rock 'n' roll hell, Grave Danger's gonna be the house band.
