by JEFF ECHERT & r & & r & & lt;span class= & quot;dropcap & quot; & K & lt;/span & im Nekroman is perhaps the most metal name of all time. OK, Kim's not so metal. But Nekroman? It screams corpses and blood from each and every letter. But Mr. Nekroman doesn't play metal (blasphemy!), oh no, though his milieu is just as fascinated with gore and fright. Nekroman (formerly of the rather egocentrically named Nekromantix) is instead one of the foundational members of the Horrorpops, along with his wife Patricia Day and drummer Henrik Niedermeier. Along with metal, the Horrorpops may share a fascination with the macabre, but they are a rather Danish psychobilly band.
Yes, say it with me. Danish. Psychobilly. For those of you completely in the dark here, you only need to concern yourself with the latter, as the 'pops sing in English. (Plus they moved to L.A. -- so as a band, they're about as Danish as Flogging Molly is Irish.) But psychobilly is admittedly sort of obscure. Think the Misfits meets Brian Setzer, the Cramps meets Carl Perkins. Bluegrass, bodices and arsenic. Skull-lined jackets and upright bass. Zombie camp.
But enough! Wikipedia beckons for those still in the dark -- the rest of you want the still-bleeding meat of the story. The Horrorpops are a versatile band -- though one of the cornerstones of their genre, they're not confined to it. While clean, swiftly arpeggiating guitars and a deep unforgiving bass form the centerpiece of the twangy, upbeat style, the Horrorpops delve into surf-rock, ska, even straight up punk rock. Day, the vocalist (and the member upon whom most of the band's success rides, honestly), exudes the image of a warped Betty Page. She's tattooed enough to give Amy Winehouse a run for her money. Not just her cash, actually: Winehouse would get run down by the Horrorpops. Day's voice is an amalgam of acts both new and old -- with the range of Siouxsie Sioux and the unequivocal power of Karen O. There's an undeniable sultriness, a slight accent, and subsequently, blatant irresistibility.
Thriving in their own niche, the Horrorpops have been blessed nonetheless with a good deal of draw from other genres, having been appropriated by fans of punk, metal and country alike. Between the draw of the live show -- replete with gothic attire and exaggerated sexuality -- and the magnetism of the music itself, the Horrorpops might be forgiven by the gods of metal for impinging on their thematic territory. Maybe even Mammon the Corpseflayer can learn to share.
The Horrorpops at the Blvd on Friday, Oct. 3, at 6 pm. $12; $15 at the door. All ages. Visit www.ticketswest.com or call 325-SEAT.
The new one is smart and funny and action-packed, and it’s bigger and better and sleeker. And Downey does it again, this time ramping up Stark’s arrogant wisecracking, telling anyone who’ll listen (mostly women) that, via the creation of his powerful Iron Man suit, he’s brought years of uninterrupted peace to the world.