Even without broken glass, Grave Danger still rambunctious
By CHRIS HANSEN ORF
Get Out

To listen to Kevin Daly’s lyrics, one could get the impression that he’s a homicidal maniac.

But the Grave Danger frontman swears he’s never killed anybody.

“Certainly not,” Daly chuckles. “I am a gentle soul.”

The band’s brand new disc, “Death City,” explores such subjects as homicide, thrill killing, relationships with “special” people and the joys of women from Sin City — not exactly the kinds of subjects written about by today's relatively tame punk bands, but Daly insists he plays it all for laughs.

“It's just fun — it’s cartoon violence,” the singer/guitarist explains. “We’re definitely laughing after each cut, and we hope somebody else is, too.”

Grave Danger, which also includes bassist/singer Rich Merriman and wildman drummer Dave Kains, began in the late ’90s as a side project for Daly, who was playing bass with local rockabilly faves Flathead, and Merriman, who still fronts his own surf/roots band The Shadowcasters. The band’s shows quickly developed a reputation for being the most dangerous place to be in town on any given night.

Back then, a Grave Danger show was best attended wearing a protective helmet, as bottles — thrown by fans and the band themselves — tended to fly through the air for the duration of their sets. After a good Grave Danger show, broken glass needed to be swept up; after a great show, it needed to be shoveled.

“We just went onstage and did our usual thing that we did in a rehearsal — get drunk, smash bottles, kick over our gear and knock each other down,” Daly laughs.

With clubs eventually closing their doors to the band, Daly and Grave Danger made an effort to tone down the destruction.

“We did what we could to ameliorate the damage — I stayed behind in all of those instances and picked up bottles — but once something becomes pro forma it just becomes silly, so we put the kibosh on it.”

Raised in Virginia listening to Sun Records vinyl, country radio and bluegrass, Daly moved to Los Angeles in the early ’80s and discovered hardcore punk bands such as The Germs and roots/punk groups such as The Blasters, X and Los Lobos. Suddenly he'd found a home for both his youthful aggression and prodigious rockabilly guitar chops.

A move to the Valley later in the decade led to his founding of Hellfire, one of the finest punk groups in local lore. Even at that stage of Daly's career, the punk/countrybilly seeds that would lead to the formation of Grave Danger were taking root.

The band’s relatively tame eponymous disc came out in 2000 and featured a bevy of rockabilly rave-ups and surf instrumentals, but the clean recording failed to capture the punk ferocity of a Grave Danger show.

For “Death City” the band headed into Terry Garvin's Citrusbeast 4 studios in north Phoenix and emerged with a CD that goes way beyond mere punkabilly, even for Grave Danger.
“Terry has all of the technical expertise that everybody else does, but he also has a huge amount of arcane knowledge that comes with years of experience,” Daly says. “He didn't give a crap and played it for laughs, just like we did. I am not opposed to much, but I am opposed to seriousness, where people think that doing this stuff has some larger value — that's just ridiculous. Rock ’n’ roll should be funny and painful and stupid.”

With a new disc and a less destructive but still rambunctious live show, Grave Danger seeks to keep pushing the envelope.

“We want people to feel violated, but we want them to get their money's worth,” Daly laughs. “Hopefully our next record will be a complete disaster.”