Behind The LA Phantoms

One of Lafayette's hardest working, rocking and partying bands tells all.

It's Halloween and, backstage, Criss Drunk is living the lyrics of the songs he wrote for his old band, Mystic Fix, and his new one, The LA Phantoms, as he polishes off a bottle of bright orange Mad Dog and the credits roll on an Asian porno.

He hasn't realized it yet, but when he and his bandmates take the stage at Toys Music Center with their tales of a devil's den between Madina's legs, it will mark the band's one-year-to-date anniversary. Normally, a birthday gig would contain more fanfare, but this is a gig thrown together after Wawee's on the Road canceled their original show. Not only is the night a forgotten birthday party but the anchor on a month that saw them record a demo and play an amount of gigs - eight performances, including four days straight, at seven venues - rivaled only by house bands and jukeboxes.

Before long, the rest of the band members trickle in one by one through the rug Toys owner Dave Hubbell penned up for a backstage door. If someone were to accidentally stumble in, they'd probably exit twice as fast because the entire band - who sometimes refer to themselves as Vampire Bank Robbers From Outer Space - is decked out in Halloween garb. D, the new bass player, wears a black "L.A. County Satanist" T-shirt. Not content with one, at times he dons two masks: one ˆ la Hannibal Lecter, the other a grimacing skull. Drummer Mac Black sports what seems to be his uniform, judging from their press shots and first album cover - a black shirt gleaming with the white bones of a rib cage and spine and two gloves detailing all the carpals and metacarpals of the hand. When he slips off his mask - similar to that of He-Man nemesis Skeletor, but much more ghoulish - any Misfits fan would recognize his haircut, the long-in-front devil lock. For the bearded and pony-tailed mouth harpist, Hootie Twocheck his leather vest and white oxford remains much more simple. It's a subtle wardrobe choice for a fellow the band crowned Twocheck, reporting that that he should receive two checks - one for his work, the other for being insane. Then there's the front man's front man, Drunk, who grins fiendishly through a face- painted, tombstone-white face with black Day of the Dead accents. What costume would be complete without spike wristbands, plush devil horns, old-school punk gloves, two-tone shoes and a pad lock on a chain?

The band, however, is not here to take home the pot in a costume contest but blaze away some hard Southern rock, swamped out with Twocheck's mouth harp, unique in the fact that it fills the spot usually occupied by a lead guitar.

"We kinda invented that s--t to where it was Southern but still punk and stuff and all that," says Drunk. "The harp came ... it's like we were jamming one night, and he came on as a special guest-type thing, and we didn't have a lead guitar so I was like, instead of a lead guitar we will just have a harp blowing all the damn time. "

Because they never tune down and with Drunk's high yelp, the band often gets compared to hard classic rock, with D adding, "Punching you in the face." It's a reference that is just dandy with them, as they are students in a school of rock head-mastered by legends like AC/DC and with an adjunct faculty including Nashville Pussy.

The brew The Phantoms concocted by stirring in the harp sounds as if Blues Traveler drowned in a Louisiana swamp and went straight to hell, where they were sent back to give up such Top 40 friendly lyrics, kick it into high gear and crank out some real rock. That adherence to rock wins The Phantoms fans in most unlikely of places, including the bikers at Wawee's on the River and the buttoned-down dinner crowd at Coyote Blues.

"We just went in there and did our thing, and they liked it. S--t, last time we played on the River, last week, they got up and danced on the first song," boasts Drunk. "Them bikers like to rock, man. "

As for the Coyote Blues gig, "Me and Criss sat next to each other and we just had fun," says D, of the show that actually saw the band turning down the amps and dabbling in a little freestyle blues.

"We didn't get shut down, so I guess it went all right," figures Drunk, who admits couldn't play all of set because owners warned, "This is a family establishment."

Following the end of Mystic Fix's eight-year assault on Acadiana's barrooms and venues in fall of 2001, Drunk hooked up with original LA Phantoms bassist Luke Duke and played in an outfit dubbed Southern Discomfort. During their Mystic Fix days, Twocheck and Drunk jammed together while doing telecommunications work for MCI in the Northwest. The hotel room sessions featured Drunk on his acoustic guitar and Twocheck crawling through the infant stages of his harmonica career. When Twocheck saddled up with Drunk a second time, their new style was born.

The band kicked along until a few months back when Duke left and D took his place. In a tender moment - which is book-ended by talk of their disdain for Fred Durst ("I'd kick him when he's down," says D), rock star dreams of a High Times-sponsored tour and enough lasciviousness directed at Britney Spears to make a Four Corners girl blush - D reveals his soft inner core and tells Drunk that he has the utmost respect for him and the outfit.

"Look, they all like what they do," says D. "They played without a bass player, and I said I could do it. When I jumped in it, the feeling was like crazy, 'cause they (are) together and that's what we (are) about."



In the late 1990s, the music of Mystic Fix and their lifestyle seemed out of place, as the national punk scene and some in Acadiana pledged allegiance to a no booze, no drugs, be good, feel-good movement known as straight edge. All the while, the band kept blitzing with a blend of Ramones-style punk that was often tagged Drunk Rock.

"We had a lot of trouble, back in them days. A lot of it was self-started. We had a good time. Just couldn't do it anymore ... we were killing ourselves," recalls Drunk, who adopted that tag at the onset of Mystic Fix for self-explanatory reasons. The current project contains less booze and drug references but is not completely free of the shackles of many nights spent on the McKinley Street Strip.

"We write about what we see. There's always a bottle in front of me," Drunk inadvertently rhymes as he plunks down a spent bottle of Mad Dog on an amp. "I figure I don't have to preach it as much as I did back then. I figure everybody knows I get f---ed up."

Tonight, their opening act, Home Grown Kill - hint, hint - enjoys some of the same inebriated lifestyle, as the lead singer is not opposed to swilling a 40 or two. During the set, The Phantoms leave the cozy confines of the dressing room and cheer on the band, a relative newcomer of good old boys from the surrounding area, playing straight-up, real metal. Now decked out in a full-length, red, vampire cape, Drunk sticks out even among the dead cheerleaders, witches and various other ghouls in attendance. This time, however, a Pepsi can replaces his glass companion. At the end of the set, HGK's lead singer Corey Pitre, unrecognizable under a ski mask and an old-school Leatherface mask, says he'd like to continue, but doesn't want to cut into The Phantoms' set. But The Phantoms, at the heart of the small crowd, give him their blessing and he leads HGK into one more song.

After HGK's set, The Phantoms return to the back, where they find Pitre fretting about going over his time limit. The Phantoms offer nothing but high regards on a feral performance and a little education on the ins and outs of playing for the discerning crowd at Wawee's. When they take the stage, Pitre returns the favor by appropriately losing his mind front and center. For his efforts, The Phantoms dedicate one of their signature songs - and Pitre's professed anthem (Mind F--ked) - to HGK.

As their set rips along, the masks come off and they bring the gospel of gluttony to a meager crowd. Before the show, there was talk of defying their set limit and playing 'til after 11, but some of the band opted out so they could catch Frigg A-Go-Go at the Renaissance. By the time they played their last song, "Gunpowder," Black has breathed fire, they have thrown in an old Mystic Fix song for the faithful and even covered Iggy Pop's "China Girl," and it is now past 11. Despite the crunch to get to the Renaissance, the band stays to mingle with fans. CDs must be sold, autographs signed and lyric sheets distributed.

In less than an hour, their birthday ends, as does October - their most harried month. However, in the wake of such a whirlwind 31 days, don't expect the Phantoms to fall off the Club Calendar.

"After a week of not playing, we want a show. I want a show. It's addictive," says Black. "(We're) ready to add some more dates. I wish I could do two shows a day."

Twocheck concurs, adding, "I'm not happy until I pass out on stage."