THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO KROKUS

It's round about midnight and I'm sitting in the Morissey Tavern watching John Cassavetes blow the hell out of Las Vegas in Machine Gun McCain, wondering what

I can say about Krokus that won’t sound as if it were written by some anonymous hack cranking out yet another boring record company hype sheet.

It isn't easy.

1-or one Inmg, me weatner-even at U115 late hour--is far too humid for the kind of serious thinkinrz a deal like this needs: and for another, I sense the beginnings of a massive headache aimed straight for my temporal region.

lhe heat 1 can live With, but the headache...ah, well, that's rock ’n’ roll for you--and seeing as how I'd just subjected myself to almost four and a half hours of back to back sets by Liary Moore, the Kroke, and Def Leppard (and that doesn’t take intp account the sour_1d_check_s, nor the _fac_t_ mat I spent most or tnose tour and a nan hours in front of a side column of speakers large enough to house a family of five with two cars}. anything less than a mugrame at this point in time would be a blessing.

oo 1 suppose 1 suoulu oe grdlelul [nut my brains aren’t leaking into my shoes and leave it at that.

FXIHGLHIB. I 1816 II. Wdb, IIIUIU Ll |Clll LVVU GI IU a half hours before showtime, and already the crazies had taken to the sidewalks for their weeklv Fridav niqht block partu. Mayoe II was [[18 l'1€a['-'OI' mayoe Some of them had been spooked totally over the edge earlier in the day when NASA’s space SHUIIIB CJIIBTPTISC, 6110]) ii /‘-fl , CTUISEU HIE rooftops at a comfortable altitude of some 2,000 feet, making it, at 4.4 million pounds, U18 CIOSBSI TDOSI p80pl€ In IOYOUIO WOUIO ever get to heavy metal in their lives-but that was their loss.

Me, I had a far more serious handicap to confront; namely, the prospect of wading chin-deep into the slavering maw of heavy metal and coming out the other side with. . .what? A portrait of five Swiss guys in a rock ’n’ roll band? Who was I kidding? No, clearly this was an assignment to be taken seriously.

Pulling out the record company bio, I skimmed it for the usual key details and came away with the usual dry facts instead: how the band (Chris Von Rohr, bass and percussion; 1-‘ernando Von Arb, lead guitar; Marc Storace, vocals; Mark Kohler, rhythm guitar; and Steve Pace, drums) formed in Switzerland in 1974; opened for every hasbeen and also-ran 1n the book trom uneap Trick to Ted Nugent; recorded six albums (two of which you can’t find these days even it your lite depended on it); toured wherever and whenever to make it...all in all, it was the usual scam.

wnen 1 read mat, accoranng to some acna casuality in People, the Kroke made “power chord demolition music so awesomely loud OUU ldbl ll 11 DCUICII yUU.l [UB3 GHU uun yULlI linoleum,” I had to admit that the prospects for this band looked possible, if not passible.

/-\tter their show (an alright amalgamation of Kiss, Aerosmith, and Queen, when they were all in their early days-on_ly a zillion nmes louder), 1 cornered oassnst Von mom for the usual post-concert CREEM interrogation:

now about ctearmg up tms wnote AC/DC thing once and for all? You guys have been compared to them for quite a while now.

More than two years. (laughs) We used to be compared to Status Quo. But I’m glad you asked this question. The thing is, both Krokus and AC/DC have the same roots, the same influences. We’re both Chuck Berry-age, guitar-boogie, rock influenced bands. We have a raunchy sound, but we can’t see AC/DC playing some of the songs off our latest album, Headhunter. I mean, can you imagine “Screaming In The Night” played by them?

But there is now war between Krokus and AC/DC, regardless of what the rock magazines say.

You guys aren’t exactly heavy metal in the same sense that, say, Motorhead are heavy metal.

We don’t even see ourselves as heavy metal so much as a melodic rock band. We give a good show, a good performance, and we get the adrenalin going. We’re into songs, not just riffs. And our fans like Krokus, Scorpions, and Def Leppard: those bands that play more than just riff songs.

Alright, enough of that. So tell me, is life in Switzerland all that it’s cracked up to be?

It’s so boring.

C’mon, don’t give me any of that. What about all those chocolates and Swiss maids?

You’ve got a couple of cows, farmers, and boring girls. We had to work double hard to leave because we were bored to death. There’s nothing there except a jazz scene in Montreux—and that’s boring,too.

So where did you go?

We consider ourselves to be an international band now. We’ve been all over the world. We spent a year in Switzerland, escaped to Germany, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, across the Russian border, over to England, and now we’re in North America.

Alright, enough of that. So tell me, is life behind the Iron Curtain all it’s cracked up to be?

Here, you have everything: records, rock ’n’ roll programs...I like the way North Americans stick to something—like hard rock. They don’t run into new fashion like they do in England.

As far as audiences go, there’s no audience who can party as long and as hard. We love it. Fans all over the world are great; it’s just the bands which are good or bad. We never blame a mediocre gig on an audience.

Over there, however, it’s the pure opposite. You have no idea. Over there they have only one Marshall amp and only one Hammond organ, which is up in their radio studio. People were coming up to us begging, ‘Smuggle me out in the bass drum! Get me out of the country!’ Everytime you play, there’s nothing but a lot of police in the first five rows. There are no fans talking to the band, and if you throw a bass string away, everybody dives for it. They beg you for a second bass string. And if you’re a girl, there’s no stockings, no lipstick...

Over there, on the black market, people tear through any tapes they get. I’m sure that even CREEM is in there somewhere. And you can’t take any money out of the country, so you get paid in vodka and goulash. You have no idea how lucky you are to be born in a different place.

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 37

Speaking of being born in a different place, what’s a guy like Rob Halford doing on Headhunter? From what I read about him in CREEM, he’s a real wimp.

Wimp or no wimp, he’s a great guy. To me he’s real humorous and a great character. We were both working in the same studio. We were doing “Ready To Burn,” and Rob was next door working on a live Judas Priest tape for MTV. He heard the track, jumped into the sound booth, and just started singing along.

OK, fair enough, but what about Randy Bachman? What’s with the Guess Who/BTO fixation?

We were told that a certain percentage of music played on Canadian radio stations has to be Canadian, so we recorded “American Woman” to get on the radio in Canada. Then Randy Bachman heard it, came to se us, and suggested that we record “Stayed Awake All Night” as a follow up.

We do it a bit heavier that they originally did it. It was heavy for it’s time, we’ve just updated it a bit.

What about “Eat The Rich”?

It’s a science fiction song. A future vision about social imbalance. About the very rich and the very poor. You don’t have to go to India to see it, just take a look at the people in the Bronx. The song is about taking it away from the rich and giving it back.

I take it then that Krokus means some kind of avenging, all-powerful mutant Jap baby eater, right?

It is the same as your ‘crocus,’ just spelled differently. It is a red flower you can smoke; very strong grass which makes you forget everything...

☆ ☆ ☆

So it’s around 1:15 in the morning, and last call was close to half an hour ago. John Cassavetes got his from the mob long before that, and I’m at the stage where I’m watching the white noise generated from a television station which has packed it in for the night—and making sense out of it.

Walking towards the Yonge/Bloor subway, I run across three teenagers coming in the opposite direction. And, although I’m in no mood for conversation, the Def Leppard backstage pass still stuck to my jacket (nice move, Morgan) ensures otherwise.

“Hey,” says one kid, “you know Def Leppard?”

“Not really,” I answer. “Did you see the show?”

“Yeah,” answers another kid, his eyes wide and glued to the bright green pass. “You don’t know Def Leppard?”

“No,” I foolishly admit, “I’m doing a story on Krokus. What did you think of them?”

“They’re OK,” says the third kid. “Their singer sure sounds like Bon Scott, doesn’t he?”

“C’mon,” I reply, “can you imagine ‘Screaming In The Night’ played by AC/DC?”

The first kid nods slowly, then his face lights up as if I know what I’m talking about. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

“Listen, do you think Krokus’ll make it big?”

“Sure they will, they’re OK. Hey, if you’re writing a story, don’t you want our names?” ☆ ☆ ☆

As it happened, I didn’t, but I took them nonetheless (no use putting your life on the line at 1:45 in the morning over a lousy couple of names).

But thanks to that encounter, I flashed on the angle I was looking for: mainly, that no matter what you or I say, those three kids, and the 20,000 others just like them who gave Krokus a standing ovation before they even hit the stage, know what they like.

Today Krokus.

Tomorrow, the Bachman Turner Overdrive reunion.

But that’s another story.