The Fighting Cocks

by Scott Hefflon

Before you had to (two) Use Your Illusion, there was a ballsy, sleazy rock ‘n roll band called Guns ‘N Roses. They slithered on stage. They were a fun-loving drunken party band you could blast at parties and in your car. Both you and the geek with glasses knew all the words to their songs. Then they became serious musicians. Now they suck.

From the inspirations of gaudy glam and drunken debauchery comes a band that doesn’t suck: The Fighting Cocks. A long time Boston rock ‘n’ roll favorite that’s toured everywhere and could have a bio (or a rap sheet) a mile long, yet remain down to earth good guys. They have a confident stage persona (I hesitate to use the word “cocky” for obvious reasons) but are approachable and even friendly as people.

The comparisons to Hanoi Rocks (an early GNR influence and a band to check out if you’re not familiar with them) are unavoidable. Singer Jaime Sever looks a lot like Mike Monroe with the mop of blonde hair and black eyeliner. That’s certainly not a bad comparison, just a tired one. The band itself is tight, diverse rock ‘n’ roll that uses all the extras (yes, they could be called “Standard Gimmicks” if you want to get judgmental) that a well-rounded rock unit should. They have numerous uptempo rockers that should get those mini skirts twirlin’, complete with harmonica, hair tosses, and ripping slide guitar fills. The hand clapping and boot stompin’ midtempo blues rock tunes are high caliber and make you well aware that these are not gas attendant posers but talented musicians who choose to play good time rock ‘n’ roll. They even slow down to that slow sway whiskey-soaked ballad style without losing their vitality or intensity. I didn’t hear a cowbell in any of the songs, but I would imagine they have one and use it well. Without bothering to research their list of awards and category wins and hoopla like that, just let it be said they are hands down the best rock ‘n’ roll band in Boston.