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Freaky Hooker Mojo

Photo by Mark The Cobrasnake

MICKEY AVALON

at the Roxy, February 17

Never before has a man boasted to be a former prostitute and junkie — then threatened to bind my mom in duct tape and anally violate my brother — and still won me over. But with expertly timed lyrics referencing everything from his drug-addled past to his kosher salami and his freaky hooker mojo, it became apparent that, yes, Mickey Avalon is a troubled addict and an unquestionable skank, but a shockingly gifted rap humorist.

Outside on the sidewalk, the thick swarm of humans was strangely peppered with both Eastside hipster punks and halter-topped, spray-tanned Beverly Hiltonites aggressively elbowing each other to get through the door.

Inside, a bodiless amplified voice inquired whether the audience was prepared to “take a dick in your ear” before the music rumbled alive in a bass-laden buzz, and the curtain lifted to reveal a stage saturated with machine-belched fog and blood-red light. A self-referential mash-up swelled, grafting Toni Basil’s “Mickey” with Roxy Music’s “Avalon,” and the DJ launched into methods of introduction generally reserved for a pro wrestler’s arrival.

Amid the crowd’s building howls, Mickey burst forth from the wings, storming center stage and looking every bit like Sean Penn wearing a Carol Burnett wig and a mesh tank top. His trademark nasal cadence sprayed from his mouth with the alluring and frightening lasciviousness of a sexual predator as he thrilled the throngs with hits like “So Rich So Pretty” and “Waiting To Die.” Mosh pits driven by androgen turbines incited Orange County 20-somethings to swing enraged jujitsu at each other, and one chick teetered off her stilettos onto the floor. Mickey blasted out raps like “I used to work nights at HotCock.com/but then I got fired/when my mom logged on” amid onstage mayhem that included lap dances and the pouring of Patrón straight from the bottle into the gaping gullets of questionably legal blonds. Mickey stormed off repeatedly, his gait growing stumbly and his feathery hair wilting into sweat-soaked daggers around his face. But what remained at the heart of Avalon’s allure were the genuinely addictive beats and infectiously catchy melodies, paired with lyrics so side-splittingly offensive and well-timed, you couldn’t help but forgive him his civil shortcomings. The most intriguing moment occurred as dozens of sparsely clothed female fans clogged the stage like a Kappa Delta Avalon kegger, and the performance ground to a halt amid orders from the DJ/referee/chaperone to “Clear the stage right now! This is a Mickey Avalon show! Fuck everybody else.” He went on to bellow pleadingly, “This is the only moment Mickey Avalon will ever have!” Backpedaling from the tragic veracity of his gaffe, the DJ added sadly, “He’s a genius.” My advice: Catch him while you can.


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