When Luca finally gets taken out, the Corleone family is notified of his passing with a fish wrapped in Brasi’s jacket. The note reads, “Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes”.  If you still don’t get it, just remember that if someone tells you that they’re taking you to “sleep with the fishes” it’s not a slumber party at the fucking aquarium. It means you’re in the jungle baby and you’re gonna die. Get it now? Well if you still don’t get it maybe you deserve what’s coming to you.

The Funhouse is on the wrong side of the tracks from where they throw the fish at Pike Place Market. Just like me, I can only imagine that the guys from Lucabrazzi feel right at home here. Plus the place is all warm and inviting.  Especially after you catch the waft of something that has been soaking in Jäger and Gin for the last 20 years. One of the many revolting items adorning the walls and shelves is a huge pickle jar with a plastic baby head and giant hand hovering in it. There are more Jäger labels on the wall than I can count (now that’s sleazy…and scary). The Funhouse logo that hangs above the door is a psycho clown face freshly plucked from the Merry-Go-Round to Hell. There’s even a Big Top adjacent to the club where the drunkies can go to smoke. The Big Top meets the code since it’s, well, a tent. Luckily, my sweet little bartender serves up red beer with her special super-hot bloody mary mix and it cures my hangover. Now all I have to worry about is my tweaked-out photographer who, when not between visits to “the bathroom” is gulping vodka down at a rate that would even alarm Bukowski.

First up is M. Bison. These guys have a real heavy, organic sound that is powered by a man who looks like he wants to toss a piano into the audience just to see if you can play.  That man is Brian Kinsella, ivory key master and one of M. Bison’s vocalists. A young Ben Folds impersonator perhaps? Maybe, but with bigger balls and the energy of a 3-year-old let loose in a sugar-shack. And, although I hate to give MySpace props for anything, Lucabrazzi found M. Bison there. M. Bison, while good and loud also chortled out a bunch of high quality, epic tunes. Somewhat along the lines of early Genesis, The Moody Blues and ELO. Only with a much harder crust. M. Bison definitely got the crowd ready for Lucabrazzi. Then I learned that preceding Lucabrazzi is no easy task.

Lucabrazzi is a three-piece that is louder than love and heaver than your Mother. Frontman, Roxy strikes a dreadlocked Jesus Christ pose, then destroys his mike with a mouth full of malice. At one point, his defenseless mike stand topples over, into the crowd. Thankfully, someone picks it up. I’m pretty sure the mike stand was trying to escape. The hard-on set starts with one of six original songs, “Rise” (right now, the band is self-distributing a 6-song disc at shows. And it’s excellent).  The rest of the set plays out like a torrential tidal wave of racecar guitars with bass-lines that rumble through you by way of a vinyl barstool.  My own vibrating barstool seems to be keeping time with their drummer Guy (thanks Guy. I owe you breakfast at least). Guy has got some Bonzo-esque chops that he’s pushing hard to thrashy-fast. Their beats kind of have an early Testament thing going on which is confirmed later when I see a guy walk by with a Testament t-shirt on. Makes sense right?

Personally, I’m gonna work hard to perpetuate the rumor that Lucabrazzi is actually the voodoo love child of Black Sabbath and Slayer. My mouth didn’t even get moving (sorry Guy) when, mid-set, they play homage to Sab with 30 seconds of “I Am Iron Man”. Who knows, maybe Zep would have gone that way if they had listened to Jimmy, moved into Aleister’s old pad and recorded like true satanic majesties. 

Anyway, if you’re getting your drunk on in Las Vegas on June 9^th, check Lucabrazzi out at The Bunkhouse Saloon.

I don’t know if the boys in Lucabrazzi were inspired by the blood trail or burning babies Luca Brasi left behind. But I do know one thing…

Lucabrazzi is alive and well. Now get on your knees and kiss the ring.