SWISS CONSPIRACY CONTINUES UNABATED! KROKUS AND THE CHOCOLATE DILEMMA

SWISS CONSPIRACY CONTINUES UNABATED! KROKUS AND THE CHOCOLATE DILEMMA

J. Kordosh

Good Friday at Cobo Arena: Mandy Meyr had ended Krokus’ 27-minute opening set by dragging his guitar across the stage, eliciting all sorts of nothing-but-noise. The hapless axe moaned and tweeked as Meyr roped it in like a wayward dogie. The rest of the band had left the stage a couple of minutes earlier—ain’t no way an opening act on a three-group bill’s gonna get an encore—but Meyr sure played the end for all it was worth.

In fact, the Krokes had played the whole 27 (count ’em!) minutes for a screwy good time. I didn’t know whether I should’ve been more surprised or annoyed—who wants to like a Swiss Heavy Mechanism with what is perhaps the single most stoopid name on any two continents?? Not me, but whaddya do when the bass player does a manic stand-up drum solo, running all over the stage like the chocolate’s boiling over? And it’s good?! I just tried to forget that singer Marc Storace sounded too much like Bon Scott and went backstage to see what kind of case the defense had mustered.

Somebody found a patented Cobo broom closet which could double as a Swiss estate (six by eight), and pretty soon Storace, bass player Chris Von Rohr, Arista promo rep Jean “Mo Greene” Macdonald, Detroit HM know-it-all Paul Watts, and me were all crammed in. The fun was about to start, but just to make sure, the promo rep had to sit on the floor. Whoever told you I was a gentleman, Jeannie?

SEPTEMBER '81—Have you ever heard a crow cuss? HAH-HAH! Well, punny we should say that! YUK-YUK! Here are Switzerland's most famous rockers, sharing their hopes, dreams, aspirations and chocolate with the ever-present J. Kordosh, who eventually plans to buy this magazine and make the editors themselves talk to guys like these! However, for now, we must be content with Kordosh, the guys, and life itself! Are you up to it?

(Astute readers will notice that I’ve written many of Von Rohr’s comments phonetically. I’ve done this for two reasons. First of all, this piece might be considered for a Pulitzer Prize next year and 1 don’t wanna get nailed on some trivial technicality. Secondly, he talks funnier than anything I can make up.)

To get the ball rolling, 1 tactfully wondered aloud: “How did you get such a dumb name?” Hey, America deserves an answer.

“Because it’s the strongest flower in spring,” said Storace.

“Breaking ’zru the ice...” Von Rohr added wistfully. Gosh, you could almost see it.

“Besides,” Storace said, demanding my tape recorder’s attention by rapping on it with a pencil, “People love the name. It is not a dumb name.”

“It’s goot to shout,” Von Rohr noted. “Kro-KUS, Kro-KUS, Kro-KUS!” they shouted in unison.

“Instead of ‘RIO SPEEDWAGON!’that’s too complicated," Storace said. And 1 mean he really said “Rio,” not “R-E-O.” How can you not like it?

Since he’d mentioned ol’ Rio, 1 figured I’d get their opinions on the—what’s it called, again?—oh, yeah, "heavy metal revival.”

“Ve are not heavy metal,” Von Rohr said, turning serious. "Heavy metal is created by English papers. Heavy metal is expression for the old rock and roll music, but the English papers have to find a new fashion. And they created it as the ‘new wave of heavy metal.’ But ve are not so into the basic things—for me, a heavy metal band is, like, Judas Priest—(makes odious throbbing noises). Noise, noise, and more noise.”

A listen to the two Krokus LPs you can get (Metal Rendezvous and Hardware, although there’s three more discs out in yodel-ay-ey-hoo-land) tends to bear this out. Krokus is more of a badly-produced bunch of power-chorders with a penchant for banal and smutty lyrics, which they pull off pretty well considering Americo is their second language. For some inexplicable

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