Hollywood’s answer to the New York Dolls, The Berlin Brats didn’t leave much of a footprint on the gutter glam, proto-punk era; there’s this 2010 half studio, half live compilation Believe It or Rot, a few mentions in Marc Spitz’ We Got the Neutron Bomb: The Untold Story of L.A. Punk, and a guest appearance on the 1978 Rhino compilation Saturday Night Pogo.
Indeed, tThe Berlin Brats’ main claim to immortality may be their role as competitors in the “Battle of the Bands” scene in Cheech & Chong’s marijuana masterpiece Up in Smoke, where they get pelted by food and lose by a two-foot joint to Alice Bowie’s heavy metal classic “Earache My Eye.”
But The Berlin Brats deserve more than a footnote. At their best , these L.A. drug abusers gave the Dolls a run for their money—like the latter band they had great songs, loads of glitter garage charisma, and a front man with a Mick Jagger fixation. And like the Dolls, the Brats definitely didn’t suffer from a personality crisis.
The Berlin Brats denied being influenced by the Dolls, and it may even have been true. It’s anything but implausible that bands at the opposite ends of the country were channeling the early R&B of The Rolling Stones and such garage murk forebearers as The Standells and The Sonics. And it’s hardly surprising that both the Brats and the Dolls were tapping into the transvestite Zeitgeist and playing dress up.
The Berlin Brats don’t owe their all to the early Stones and garage rock heroes like the 13th Floor Elevators. ”Tropically Hot” has a Raw Power kick, while ”Vinyl” borrows from both The Who and (believe it or not) The Byrds. How did a Byrds LP find its way into their collective record collection? Must have been an older brother.
All five of the studio cuts are unsung gems, but three of Believe It or Rot’s cuts deserve stars on Hollywood Boulevard. On “Tropically Hot” lead singer Rick Wilder shows off his shake appeal while guitarist Matt Campbell proves he can hold his own against Johnny Thunders. On “(I’m) Psychotic,” Wilder goes full Jagger against the backdrop of a telegraphic guitar riff and the boys in the band spelling out “psycho” like spelling bee winners. As for “House of Pleasure” it’s a lost gem—raw, luscious, tender, and the perfect song to slow dance with your baby.
As for the live cuts, only “Joyride to the End of the World”—which would later be recorded by Wilder’s post-Brats punk rock outfit The Mau Maus–is the only real keeper. Like the other live cuts on the compilation it sounds like it was recorded on a cheap tape recorder by somebody in the club’s bathroom, but at least it’s not an inferior repeat of the recorded cuts on Believe It or Rot.
A word of warning–it seems there’s another version of Believe It or Rot out there that includes live covers of the Stones’ “Surprise, Surprise,” Chuck Berry’s “Bye Bye Johnny,” and The Animals’ “It’s My Life.” But I’ll be damned if I’ve been able to lay ears on it.
Fate delivered The Berlin Brats a double whammy—unlike the New York Dolls they didn’t come to be in a high-brow avant garde musical culture eager to do some slumming (slumming is de rigeur in Hollywood). And they came and went so fast they didn’t have time to release a full-length LP–compared to them, the Dolls may as well have been the Grateful Dead. The Dolls were in the right place at the wrong time; The Berlin Brats got screwed on both fronts. Rodney Bingenheimer’s English Disco catered to the stars; it didn’t create them.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
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