Revelry, Deth Killers & The Back CC’s
September 19th, 2010by Ethan
It all started innocently enough. I went to meet Austin and Kelley Lutter at King’s County, a bar that’s just a few blocks from our house, but in a part of Bushwick where I never find a reason to go. It was nice enough. Just your standard neighborhood bar. The thing that made it unique was that the back patio was just a long, open-air hallway above 6 feet wide, with some benches and some murals.
We drank a beer or two there and then decided to go to the Wreck Room to play some pool. Wreck Room was sort of crowded, and they had removed(?) the pool table to make room for some sort of Princess Mononoke screening. Not quite what we had in mind. Kelley and I hit the head(s), and then we bounced.
During our travels, we met this old soul. He filled our heads with knowledge, but not with wisdom.
We headed back toward Kelley’s part of town, one or so subway stops from the Wreck Room. As we were wandering past some sort of parking garage with an awful lot of carpeting on the interior, we heard a bit of commotion and saw a couple dudes working over a coin-op arcade-style punching bag game at the far end of the garage. We talked about going to check it out, but I for one was a bit astonished when Kelley took a hard right and bee-lined for the center of the action.
Apparently we had stumbled upon a party at I.C.R. vs Deth Killers of Bushwick, a clothing company formed from an alliance between two motorcycle gangs. They had a table set up where they were selling Gennesse for $2, so we decided to stick around. Unfortunately, we were only there for about 5 minutes before a lady started yelling that they had to close up shop, so everyone needed to finish their drinks and meet up at the Wreck Room. Having little desire to return there, we pounded our beers and headed on.
It wasn’t entirely clear to us what was going on at that party. All I could see was an interesting mix of attendees: giant dudes with fearsome hair walking around in leather Deth Killers jackets, some babes, a bunch of average-looking young transplants like ourselves, and one guy walking around in a suit. There was also what looked like a rack of wetsuits on display through a door in the garage, and a poster above said door advertising a Stab-a-thon that had occurred a couple months prior. The Internet told me a much more interesting story.
- Their old website – don’t know why they changed it
- Some truly heroic shirts
- An origin story that I can only believe is factual, given what else I have discovered
- Free protection for scrawny hipsters wandering around Bushwick at night with their Macbooks
I expect to be spending a lot of time in the near future trying to get closer to these proud and enigmatic people. Still not sure what a Deth is, but if they say it needs killing, then all I can say is “how dead?”
We wandered for another few minutes before arriving at the bar Kelley sort of thought might be OK: Don Pedro, on Manhattan a bit south of Montrose. Best website ever. We walked inside and set ourselves up with the usual beer/whiskey combo. I didn’t catch what their well whiskey is, but it is not a good whiskey at all. Austin keep remarking that it looked like they were setting up for a show, and that we should go check it out. I reluctantly acquiesced.
Wait for it....
My reluctance disappeared in an instant. From the first note they played, The Back CC’s had me pinned against the far wall with the power of their rock. These four do not fuck around. The best thing to do would be to click the link above and listen firsthand. Get ready for some all-out honky-tonk garage-punk with harmonicas and chicken masks. The crowd was small, but they were all obviously there to see the band and to have a rip-roaring good time.
Taste the power
Still dazed from the awesome, we stumbled outside to reflect upon our newly-minted attitude toward life, love, and the ineffable archetype of the raging Asian.
Tags: Deth Killers of Bushwick, Don Pedro, honky-tonk garage punk, I.C.R., King's County, knowledge friend, the Back CC's, Wreck Room