Fist Of Dishonor at Ash Street Saloon, Feb. 21, 2007-- Local Cut

Fist Of Dishonor at Ash Street Saloon, Feb. 21, 2007

February 28th, 2007 [1:42PM] Posted by: BRANDON SEIFERT | 3 COMMENTS

I could tell it was going to be an awesome concert when I saw the table full of Mexican wrestlers.

They stood out in Ash Street Saloon, because the other patrons were dressed as ninjas, kung fu masters, or spacemen—the night’s theme was Aliens vs. Ninjas, after all. But the guys in luchador masks, sitting surly at a corner table the pinball machines, brought the whole scene over the top into WTF-land. Later, I’d learn that they were Caliente and his gang Los Diablos Guapos, here to challenge Fist Of Dishonor’s lead singer to a wrestling match. It’d all make sense then. But initially, I couldn’t tell whether I was more confused by them, or bemused.

I was there to see Fist Of Dishonor. I’d never seen or heard them, but I knew from friends-of-friends that it was something I shouldn’t miss. A band that dresses up like ninjas and fights people during its live sets? My alley doesn’t go any farther up.

I was there expecting a fun show. I was not expecting Fist Of Dishonor to be a quality production is every way a persona band full of fight sequences can be.

The night featured Here Comes A Big Black Cloud, Fleshtone, and Fist Of Dishonor. I arrived near the end of Fleshtone’s set, but please don’t ask me to describe it. There was…dancing? I was still recovering from being hit in the face with a whole bunch of generalized strangeness, and my brain wasn’t able to process the specific strangeness onstage.

Fleshtone finished, and after a long set-up (where band members lay a tumbling mat on the front of the stage, and “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” and “The Imperial March” from Star Wars looped as the pre-show music), it was time for the main attraction.

The lights dimmed, and a spotlight came up on the stage, centered on the lead singer, Missy Jitsu. Jitsu knelt, cleaning the floor with a sponge as the band assembled in the fog-machined darkness. Then the band kicked into its first song, the hard rock number “Bad Sensei.” Missy Jitsu did back-handsprings and kicks, and in the middle of the song she was attacked by two enemy ninjas who she defeated before the end of the bridge.

After “Bad Sensei,” Missy Jitsu explained Fist Of Dishonor’s high concept. It claims to have created a new style of kung fu, based not on the movements of hawks, tigers or praying mantises like other styles, but on the motions of the Rock Star. Then Missy Jitsu announced, “I need someone to take off my hakama pants—you!” and suddenly pointed at a guy in the front row. He helped untie her baggy red samurai pants, revealing skin-tight patent leather. “Wasn’t that worth it?” Jitsu asked the audience. (And indeed, I’d hit that. In a sparring sense, of course. Only a pirate would actually use that as a euphemism.)

The show continued pretty much in the vein of the opening number: Power pop songs about ninja issues, like how you better not talk shit about Jitsu’s sensei; badass fight sequences with random costumed attackers from offstage; Jitsu changing her clothes. Fist Of Dishonor comes off less as a ninja-themed rock band, and more like a rock opera about ninjas with about as much plot as Kill Bill Vol. 1. Songs like “Kissin’ A Samurai” almost make the whole thing feel like The Rocky Horror Ninja Show.

The music is well-written and catchy, and played with great flair. The stage show is polished and surprising, with interludes you wouldn’t expect. Like the flaming luchador Pink Tiger mincing around on stage, throwing candy and prizes to the audience. Or The Man With The Hand challenging the band to an MC battle, and turning the set into an awesome hip-hop show for two songs as his crew The Hand Clan battled Fist Of Dishonor on the mic. Or when Missy Jitsu asked Here Comes A Big Black Cloud, “Is this your probe?” about the pink vibrator she “found” on the stage, and then used it to play the next song on her guitar, holding it against the strings and letting the vibrating make the sound as she fingered chords. But the fight sequences inevitably steal the show.

Caliente and Los Diablos Guapos were the first big contender of the night, leaving their table by the pinball games and making a big entrance through the back of the audience to challenge Missy Jitsu. Members of Los Diablos Guapos and Fist Of Dishonor provided blow-by-blow commentary as Jitsu and Caliente faced each other in the squared circle, leg-dropping, suplexing and throwing each other to the mat before Jitsu’s final victory. Caliente had to be carried away on the shoulders of Los Diablos Guapos.

But the biggest fight of the night was between Jitsu and a badass kung fu master. He entered through the back of the crowd and fought Jitsu in Matrix-style bullet-time kung fu, their punches, kicks and slaps sometimes slowing down as they approached each other. Early on, Jitsu ducked under the master’s hand in slow motion, speeding up again as she flipped him flat on his back on the stage. Then she pulled off his wifebeater, sniffed it, and threw it into the audience. I was right; it truly was an awesome show.

The contest ended in a stalemate. Missy Jitsu punched, and the kung fu master kicked, and both of them came away with broken bones. “Missy Jitsu,” the master told her, “I could easily beat you with these broken toes. But I’m not taking the victory while that hand of yours is all fucked-up.” He stalked off stage, shouting, “You punch like a fucking girl!” Will she ever manage to defeat him? I suppose I’ll have to go to Fist Of Dishonor’s next show to find out.

Bus 14 had ended for the night by the time the show got out, and I had Fist Of Dishonor’s anthemic encore stuck in my head as I walked home. “Never trust a samurai, never fight fair,” the chorus goes, “never store shuriken in your underwear.”

As I walked up Hawthorne, I heard the “CHUNK CHUNK” of a large stapler behind a telephone pole up ahead. A girl with thick-rimmed glasses and an armful of concert flyers came out from behind it, and continued past me towards the river.

In a town with so many bands playing every night, I’m glad there are groups like Fist Of Dishonor to keep things interesting and unpredictable.

Link: Fist Of Dishonor on Myspace.

Now for video and picture craziness:

Fist Of Dishonor’s “Bad Sensei”: