This Music Leaves Stains: The Complete Story of the Misfits

by James Greene Jr.

  American Psycho was released March 28, 1997, offering a highly detailed yet oddly cartoonish painting of the Crimson Ghost on its cover that suggests a clear line of demarcation between the Misfits of hazy punk rock legend and the Misfits of Geffen Records. The album kicks off with an instrumental reworking of an ominous, dread-inspiring Kryst the Conqueror track called “The Abominable Dr. Phibes.” Doyle’s guitar is distorted to heavy metal proportions—its bottom and roar achieved by playing the instrument through an amplifier built to highlight the low end of a bass guitar (Jerry Only followed suit by plugging his bass into a guitar amplifier, giving his instrument a natural distortion; the Caiafas both played bat-shaped guitars they constructed themselves for specific durability and thickness). After a final dramatic crescendo, “Phibes” gives way to the chipper chanting of the title track. Although “American Psycho” spends a great deal of its time jutting along at double time as Michale Graves assumes the psychotic persona of Patrick Bateman, the basic refrain is a classic pastiche of Misfits “whoa-ohing” that seems like a subconscious attempt to let listeners know Danzig’s ghost is still present—even if the song leaned in a more modern, upbeat direction. Aside from the ultra crisp, clean production, one can almost feel the cold steel of the hook the band tries to sink into whatever was left of Green Day’s popularity by this time on overly melodic entries such as “Resurrection” and “Here Come The Dead.”

  Michale Graves does an admirable job alternating between frothing madman and mournful ghoul on American Psycho as he belts out the vocals on tongue-in-cheek entries like “Speak of the Devil” and “Walk Among Us,” but the vocalist doesn’t really come into his own until the tail end of the album. There he tears with reckless abandon into the album’s three most affecting tracks: the Bride of Frankenstein–inspired slammer “Hate The Living, Love The Dead,” an emotional recap of the 1982 Steven Spielberg/Tobe Hooper collaboration Poltergeist that is strangely titled “Shining,” and an incredibly catchy Ramones ape called “Don’t Open ’til Doomsday” wherein Graves croons his way into the listener’s heart. Naturally, American Psycho had its gaffes—namely, too many songs based around horror movie titles. In addition to the entries already mentioned, there’s “This Island Earth,” “Day of the Dead,” “The Haunting,” a hidden track called “Hell Night,” and “Mars Attacks,” the latter of which Jerry Only unsuccessfully petitioned Tim Burton to include in his film of the same name a year prior (Burton sent the Misfits back a kind note, however, pledging his long-time fandom).

  Reviews of American Psycho were mixed: Rolling Stone trashed it with a harsh one-and-a-half stars (“This album feels less like the Misfits and more like Elvira . . . all this longtime fan can say is, ‘Quick, Van Helsing, a stake.’”);[25] The Onion’s A.V. Club declared American Psycho “pretty damn good” in light of its “opportunistic” and “calculated” existence;[26] and Entertainment Weekly gave the album a solid B.[27] Indeed, American Psycho boasted enough speed, spook, and spunk to justify its existence, although being saddled with the Misfits name was a double-edged sword. From a stylistic standpoint, it’s too upbeat and pop-leaning to exist in the same time zone as anything from the Danzig years; however, the merit this material does boast would have been lost to time had it been released under any other moniker. The one song on American Psycho that seemed to appease Misfits fans of all colors with no guilt or consternation was the moody, anthemic, and legitimately haunting “Dig Up Her Bones.”[28] Michale Graves wrote “Bones” when he was just sixteen years old and had been sitting on it until the right moment presented itself. The band felt confident enough about the song to release it as American Psycho’s one and only single.[29]

  Live, the American Psycho–era Misfits would distract anyone who felt the music was lacking in Alice Cooper–style theatrics. Performances often began with a roadie dressed as the Crimson Ghost (as he appeared in his original 1946 form) who would haul an oversized television set to the center of the stage. Said television would play a series of gruesome clips from all manner of horror movies. Soon, Dr. Chud would crawl onstage, swathed in bloody medical scrubs, gnashing his teeth at the front row like an angry bear or wrestler of years gone by. Wrapped in a straight jacket, Michale Graves was delivered to the stage like the giant TV set—on a giant leash, writhing about the whole way in faux pain. The Caiafas entered last, pounding on their wireless instruments as the crowd cheered and the band came together to launch into their set. All this was just a smidge hokier than the gimmicks of the Danzig days that included busting out of coffins, but it played well in the larger venues the Misfits were booked into as artists on the same label as Aerosmith, Don Henley, Beck, and Cher.

  With the release of American Psycho naysayers could not write this exercise off as a dream: the Misfits had returned, without their most celebrated figure, who for his part remained relatively silent on his former band’s reappearance. Fans on both sides awaited any kind of showdown between Jerry Only’s Misfits and Danzig, and one of sorts occurred Halloween night that year when the two groups performed at venues within four miles of each other. The former played Hollywood’s decidedly vanilla Palace venue (capacity limit: 2,000) while the latter performed at West Hollywood’s storied rock shanty the Whisky a Go Go club (capacity limit: 1,000). While it might not seem like a great disparity existed between these two concerts, the Misfits felt like victors playing the larger club. “Danzig was on such a decline,” remembers Misfits bus driver Tim Bunch. “We were playing this big sold-out show on Halloween and [Glenn] was playing this little shithole down the street. So me and some of the guys [decided] we’re gonna go see Danzig. We walked down there earlier in the day, but Glenn told [the Whisky] specifically, ‘Do not let any Misfits crew members into the building.’ So we couldn’t get in.” Amused, Bunch and the other crew members traipsed back to the Palace, laughing about their odd badge of honor.[30]

  On July 15, 1997, Caroline Records released Static Age, the debut album the Misfits had recorded for Mercury Records in 1977 and subsequently shelved. Many consider this to be the greatest triumph of all the legal squabbling between the band members. Caroline executives (along with most of the world) were unaware this album even existed, even after they bought the rights to the entire Misfits catalog in 1994. It wasn’t until the Caiafa brothers showed up at the label’s Manhattan offices in early 1995 with a twenty-year-old cassette tape of the entire record in sequence that Caroline realized what they had. The lost first Misfits album would be extremely marketable, not just because of the story but because of the infectious music within. Obtaining the master recordings from Danzig proved difficult, though—the singer denied he had the tapes, claiming they no longer existed and that Static Age was simply lost to history. This was of course untrue; Caroline eventually wrangled the deteriorating masters from Glenn, which were then carefully restored for release. Static Age was first unleashed on the public in 1996 as a part of Caroline’s Misfits box set, a four-disc labor of love presented in a small coffin that sold enough copies to more than pay off the label’s gamble on this dusty horror punk band.[31]

  Initially Caroline had scheduled a Static Age release for 1995 along with several other Misfits projects, but the results of the lawsuit left them in the unenviable position of dealing with two separate band factions that had decidedly different visions for the group’s future releases and (more or less) equal power. Various other professional obligations prevented Glenn Danzig from finishing the Misfits compilation he intended to assemble as a sequel to 1986’s Misfits; he finally found the time at the same moment when Jerry and Doyle presented Caroline with Static Age. Livid that the record company was fast-tracking the Caiafa brothers’ project over his own Collection II that had been gestating for years, Danzig demanded Caroline reconsider their priorities unless they wanted to become embroiled in another sticky legal action. The tactic worked; Caroline halted work on Static Age to placate Glenn. Also scrapped by the record company was a limited edition “Teenagers from Mars” seven i
nch and Xmas at Max’s, a recording of the Misfits’ Christmas 1978 performance at Max’s Kansas City featuring newly overdubbed instrumental tracks from Jerry and Doyle.[32]

  When Collection II finally hit record store shelves on November 14, 1995, it was embraced by thirsty Misfits fans despite the fact that it contained five recordings of songs from Walk Among Us that Danzig re-recorded with Eerie Von in August of 1986. A sixth song from that decidedly post-Misfits session, “Mephisto Waltz,” appears nowhere else in the Misfits or Samhain catalog and appears to have been composed specifically for that 1986 recording. Continuity issues aside, Collection II sold enough to land a number 33 position on Billboard’s Heatseekers chart.[33] This meant nothing to Danzig, of course, who is rumored to have taken his aggravations with the Misfits legal situation out on Caroline in various tiny ways. Insiders say they went to great lengths to make sure Glenn was pleased with Collection II’s artwork only to watch the singer turn around in interviews and condemn the sepia-toned cover image of Bud Geary in costume as the Crimson Ghost. Another tale, similar to the subterfuge Danzig ran regarding the very existence of Static Age, concerns Caroline’s difficulty obtaining the master tapes of Earth A.D. for the 1996 Misfits box set—Glenn claimed Earth A.D.’s masters had washed away in a flood at his parents’ house in Lodi in the mid-1980s and forced the label to work from a slightly inferior cassette tape containing the music.

  The Earth A.D. master tapes weren’t the only storied items to (allegedly) disappear from the Anzalone house back in New Jersey. Glenn’s parents Richard and Maretta remained on friendly terms with the Caiafas and always welcomed Jerry and Doyle when they dropped by the house on MacArthur Avenue to say hello (which admittedly was not too often since the 1983 breakup of the Misfits). During one such visit in April of 1995, Richard mentioned to the Caiafas the bevy of skateboard parts Glenn had left underneath his back porch. The Anzalone patriarch offered his son’s former band mates as many as they could carry. The parts in question were rare skateboard decks emblazoned with Samhain logos and album imagery that Danzig had commissioned years before. When the singer moved west in the late 1980s he assumed the decks would be safe in Lodi, quietly increasing in monetary value as he focused his efforts bringing Danzig the band to fruition. Upon learning that, of all people, Jerry and Doyle had walked off with this valuable stash of Samhain relics, Danzig hit the roof. He angrily demanded his father retrieve the skateboard decks, though it is unclear if Richard Anzalone was ever able to wrangle the items back from the brothers Caiafa.[34]

  Geffen’s American Psycho sold respectably well alongside the Caroline Misfits releases, though singer and ostensible face of the new Misfits Michale Graves couldn’t reconcile his increased feelings of marginalization within the band. Jerry Only and his manager brother Ken Caiafa continued to make the lion’s share of decisions; Doyle and Chud, both reserved personalities who preferred to avoid confrontation, went along mostly without complaint. In May of 1998, the Misfits booked a South American tour leg for July before consulting Graves. The dates in question directly conflicted with a vacation in Colorado the singer had booked far in advance. Understandably upset, Graves placed an angry phone call to Only that ended with the former declaring his intention to follow through with his vacation plans. The next day, the Misfits rehearsed with a new singer—Jersey-bred goth rocker Myke Hideous, a friend of the band who had been one of the many to audition for the singing slot in 1995.

  Word of this rehearsal leaked back to Michale Graves, leading to a furious round of communication. Graves is adamant that during this brouhaha he never said he quit the band. Regardless, the band traveled to South America with Hideous, and on May 27 Jerry Only issued a press release announcing that Graves was out of the band (Michale would learn of his dismissal via a letter from the Misfits’ legal counsel).[35] Only’s press release took shots at Graves for choosing “the alternative to all the work necessary to be a member of the Misfits” while dubiously praising himself for fighting “with all I had to keep the Misfits alive” following Glenn Danzig’s departure. In an even stranger twist, Only concluded the written missive by revealing the band had reached out to Danzig once again to see if he wished to replace Graves (Danzig apparently declined) and that Hideous was not, in fact, a “permanent” Misfit yet: “Our tour in Europe and South America will serve a long audition for [Myke] . . . at the end of this trial period [we] will come to a decision and make our announcement.”[36] Clearly the band (or at least Only) was still hedging bets on landing a Dave Vanian or Peter Steele.

  Hideous—a slightly grizzled figure boasting stringy jet black hair, numerous piercings, and a hyper-intense gaze—knew he was at first just warming the Misfits microphone and was okay with that; feeling lost following the breakup of his own act Empire Hideous, Myke thought a brief jaunt with one of his favorite bands might prove a fun way to help clear his mind. However, the singer claims once Graves was officially out, the other Misfits informed him he was in for sure, despite the press release to contrary. Hideous was surprised and insulted but continued on the South American tour anyway. There he quickly recognized the Misfits were unequivocally “Jerry’s band” and that his own opinion rarely counted toward anything. The singer also became annoyed with his lack of contract and erratic payment schedule. Hideous foresaw his tenure with this band not extending far, and indeed it didn’t: upon their return from South America, Myke was sacked from the Misfits by Only, who claimed Doyle had campaigned hard against the singer’s lackluster performance.

  Hideous, who had abandoned his job and home in New Jersey to join the band under the pretense of something permanent, was shocked, as Only had allegedly told him a just short time before that he had proved himself on tour and could count on singing for the next Misfits album.[37] Still, Hideous was vaguely aware things might turn out this way, as he doubted the Misfits’ devotion to their own lifestyle. “You know, you look at the Misfits and you say, ‘These guys are creepy,’” Hideous remembered later of the experience. “‘They’re really ghoulish’ . . . nah. They’re a bunch of jocks. I was the truest thing they could have ever had to a real life ghoul . . . you come to my studio where I live and you’ll see my collection of gargoyles, tombstones, skulls, bones, rosary beads, candles, and shellacked cats . . . you go to Jerry’s house and you see posters of the [New York] Giants. You see football and wrestling on TV. You get to hang out with him while he’s wearing his sweat pants and sneakers . . . [eventually] I said [to Jerry], ‘Look man, no disrespect, but I know you guys. I know who you are . . . you’re certainly no ghoul when you sit around in your white jumpsuit and watch football . . . your audience thinks you’re a bunch of skull-crushing ghouls. You’re not.’”[38]

  Michale Graves was still open to being a Misfit despite his firing, and soon he was back in touch with the band. Graves was asked to “come jam”; wounds were healed, and it was as if he’d never left. Well, sort of. “They said I owed them $5,000 [for breach of contract],” Graves sighs. “I didn’t care. I just wanted to play music.”[39]

  1. Brian Baker, telephone interview with the author, January 3, 2011.

  2. “What Happened to Axl Rose—The Inside Story of Rock’s Most Famous Recluse,” Rolling Stone, May 11, 2000, reprinted at HereTodayGoneToHell.com, http://www.heretodaygonetohell.com/articles/showarticle.php?articleid=32.

  3. “Guns n’ Roses Discography,” Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guns_N%27_Roses_discography.

  4. Mike Stax, telephone interview with author, March 29, 2011.

  5. Mike Stax, “All Hell Breaks Loose: The Jerry Only Interview,” Ugly Things, no. 12 (Summer 1993): 22.

  6. Lyle Preslar, e-mail interview with the author, June 2012.

  7. “Why Do Fools Fall in Love (Song): Writing Credits,” Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Why_Do_Fools_Fall_in_Love_(song)#Writing_credits.

  8. “Company Town: Beach Boys’ Mike Love Wins His Case, Stands to Collect Millions,” Los Angeles Times, December 13, 1994, http://articles.latim
es.com/1994-12-13/business/fi-8511_1_beach-boys-lead-singer.

  9. “Exhibit C,” Kaufhold et al v. Caiafa et al, Case No. 11-cv-01460-WJM-MF, filed July 22, 2011, 1–9.

  10. “Exhibit D,” Kaufhold et al v. Caiafa et al, Case No. 11-cv-01460-WJM-MF, filed July 22, 2011, 1–4.

  11. Mark Kennedy, telephone interview with the author, October 20, 2011.

  12. Tim Bunch, telephone interview with the author, April 2, 2011.

  13. David MacIntyre, “Dr. Chud Interview,” June 17, 2007, http://www.angelfire.com/divozz/chud.html.

  14. Kennedy, telephone interview; Stax, telephone interview.

  15. Michale Graves, telephone interview with the author, September 6, 2011.

  16. Bunch, telephone interview. “Misfits Time Line,” Misfits Central, http://misfitscentral.com/misfits95/timeline.php.

  17. Kennedy, telephone interview.

  18. “Misfits Time Line,” Misfits Central.

  19. Animal Room, directed by Craig Singer (1995; Los Angeles, ViewCave), DVD.