“Cocktail
Hell” starts with a mock radio broadcast of “Fern’s Famous
Formalcohol Hour”, which is a good indication for what awaits you on
this swankier-than-usual trip to Hades. Texans by way of the abyss, the
Necrotonz really are a fully functioning lounge band, with one
alarming twist- with the exception of the sultry Necrophilia on
lead cocktail dress, they’re all deader n’ fucking doorknobs. Which is
perfect, really, since the suits those guys always wear look like
something you’d get buried in anyway. As if a deceased backing band
weren’t enough, the ‘Tonz also spice up their set of breezy, jazzy,
morbidly curious originals with deathly covers- this time around,
Sabbath’s Faeries Wear Boots, the Misfits’
Skulls (turns out, it really did need some flutes), and
that old standby Girl from Ipanema (Ok, Ghoul)
– are given the dead man’s shuffle. Every death-related pun you can
imagine is covered here, and it’s all wrapped around some seriously snappy
smoking jacket jazz. Sure, it’s a gimmick, but it’s a good one, and I tell
ya this much- when Forry Ackerman finally kicks the bucket, the
Necrotonz will surely be playing as he tap dances all the way up the
escalator to Heaven. By the way, on the back of the Necrotonz t-shirts, it says “Your pretty face is going to Cocktail Hell”. How cool is that?