Cocks of the Rock

“We’re the last of the Mohicans, trying to keep this kind of rock & roll alive,” says Todd Youth, sucking on a cig in the musky tour bus he and his band, the Chelsea Smiles, are sharing with a couple-dozen other guys while touring with Sweden’s Backyard Babies. “It’s all I’ve ever really done. Who knows, maybe two years from now it’s going to be the new thing. Tons of kids with makeup and, y’know, wearing black. But if not, I’ll still be doing it.”

We’ve all heard the rock & roll savior speech from band guys before, but out of Youth’s mouth, it sounds honest and even plausible. Thin, pale and covered in tattoos, he looks the part, sure, but that’s not what we’re buying. Despite the name, this N.Y.-bred rocker is no kid, and the Chelsea Smiles is probably his last shot at stardom — yet there’s not a drop of desperation (or insincerity) in his deep, nicotine-scorched tone. Of course, Hot Topic would be out of business if there weren’t already plenty of jet-headed teens with coal-smudged eyes and spiked belts out there. The thing is, these days those kids listen to My Chemical Romance or, worse, Ashlee Simpson. Virtually no one else is spewing the kind of exhilarating, Johnny Thunders–style rock & roll championed by the Chelsea Smiles. This loud and proud music really is a lifestyle for Youth and his gang of raven warriors, and you get the feeling that the only thing about the band that will change if they get famous is the size of their venues.

From an outsider’s perspective, this band might seem elusive — constantly circled with rumors, disappearing into thin air at times. (They don’t even have a Web site!) Just about everyone who experiences their fuzz and fury live falls in love (or lust, judging by the tatted tarts who gaze upon them longingly at their shows), and yet there always seems to be something in the way: lineup problems, bad producers, name conflicts, and maybe even their own cockiness.

The Chelsea Smiles have survived drugs, death, and plenty of drama on both coasts to get to this point — opening up for forebears the New York Dolls, and on the verge of releasing a record both they and their record company love and have high hopes for. (How often does that happen?) Live, it’s as if all the frustration of their past detonates. Youth can often be seen brutalizing his guitar by show’s end, bashing it to bits — which (again) sounds contrived, but, in the context of the Smiles’ ferocious sets, makes for a superlative climax.

But back to the past. You’d be hard-pressed to find a band with a saga as tempestuous. We’re talking Behind the Music kinda shit. First, there’s the pedigree. Youth has played with everyone from Motörhead to Danzig to his own D Generation, who were touted as New York’s great white rock & roll hopes long before the Strokes made Manhattan a retro-music mecca. His younger, darkly dressed doppelganger, Christian Black, might lack his bandmate’s experience, but he did hone his chops playing and touring with none other than Dee Dee Ramone — right up until Ramone’s death.

Along with former D Gen bassist Howie Pyro and drummer Geoff Reading of Loaded (Duff McKagan’s pre–Velvet Revolver band), the pair started jamming together a few years ago after Youth moved to L.A. As Black explains it, “We only had five songs and no name” when the A&R guys started swarming in early 2003. The buzz was all prompted by an offer the band couldn’t refuse — so, of course, they did.

“We’re rehearsing at Mates, a big rock sound stage in North Hollywood, and Def Leppard’s next door in the big room,” recalls Youth. “We’re just blasting through the five songs, and [lead singer] Joe Elliot comes running into the room, going, ‘Man, you guys are brilliant.’ He’s like, ‘Andrew WK just pulled off our tour. Do you want to do it?’ ”

“I don’t wanna play to 40-year-old rock guys in 20-year-old rock T-shirts,” Youth told his pals at the studio. Though he didn’t necessarily mean for his words to get back to the Lep, they did. Self-sabotaging? Disingenuous? Arrogant assholes? Regardless of what people thought about them personally, after that, interest in the band skyrocketed. Suddenly everybody wanted to know who the badass boys in black who turned down a world tour were.

At the time they were the Disciples, but a cease-and-desist letter (from an equally inked but far less original Christian metal band) soon changed that. They signed with Capitol Records in a matter of months and, still nameless, proceeded to begin recording. Over the following year, they would get a new moniker, add a keyboardist (Jake Cavaliere from Lords of Altamont) and write new material. That period should have been an exciting time for the group, but internal conflicts made it a struggle. Apparently, it was time to give some bandmates the boot.