Young, dumb and full of cum: cock rock returns

By Cory Casciato
casciato@mscd.edu

Long ago (i.e. the '70s), dinosaurs ruled the earth; filling arenas with the thunderous roar of oversexed guitar gods high on life and whatever else they could lay their hands on. For more than a decade, these beasts defined the sound of rock's golden age before stronger, more specialized creatures evolved and took over, ending the reign of colossal riffage, dumb-as-a-post lyrics and macho, sexist swagger.

Until now.

At a median age of 27, Diamond Nights weren't even out of diapers when the first great wave of cock rockers were perfecting the lifestyles that would someday land them an episode of VH1's "Behind the Music." Despite that handicap, this band has managed to capture the primal urgency and raw sexuality of the genre and have dedicated their lives to bringing it back into the world.

Diamond Nights' music is a turbocharged blast of rock, built on a frame of power pop, riding on a glam suspension and powered by a roaring hard rock engine that occasionally injects a shot of prog or metal for an extra boost. It's one sweet ride that, not coincidentally, would sound right at home blaring out the windows of a souped-up Camaro full of mullets, cheap beer and underage girls.

Their sound covers everything from Zeppelin-esque stomp to Cars cool, T. Rex swagger to Sabbath sludge. It's like a rousing game of classic rock connect-the-dots, a deft splicing of rock's most bombastic moments into a heady brew of sexy, stupid splendor. They cover a lot of territory, weaving together diverse elements in an appealing way. It makes for an eclectic, but surprisingly coherent sound-not that the record company suits see it that way.

"Sometimes ... music industry people, they're like 'maybe you should just write more similar songs because people aren't going to get it,'" drummer Tim Traynor said. "I think that's B.S. because bands like Queen and Zeppelin ... they were never concerned with having an album of 10 songs that all sound exactly alike. They just wanted to make music."

Singer and guitarist Morgan Phalen puts it in more poetic terms.

"We're gardeners and we plant seeds in our garden of different kinds of plants. Whatever grows the fastest and the heartiest, we pick its fruits. Some others die, some are just dirty weeds and they can't do anything with them," he said. "(The songs) have a life of their own ... We always have, like, a hundred songs, little pieces of songs, that we're working on, you only get really 10 out of each hundred. It's kind of Darwinian"

Their album Popsicle (which followed their debut EP Once We Were Diamonds) manages to recapitulate the highlights of rock history in just under 40 minutes. Alongside Phalen and Traynor, Rob Laasko slings a second guitar (and the occasional synthesizer) and Seth Rumsey's bass completes the rhythm section. Together, the four of them have created an album of simple, but catchy tunes that just beg for air-guitar accompaniment. The songs may be simple, but their skills are solid and they pull them off with a commanding flair. The end result is a slick shot of decadent sleaze, full of revved-up anthems celebrating the eternal values of good times and bad girls. It's not terribly original or profound, but it's damn fun, which is really all it needs to be.

At times, the album seems a little calculated, aimed at milking the deep vein of nostalgia running through the hearts of everyone who grew up listening to classic rock in the back of dad's car. On stage, any questions about their sincerity quickly evaporated. Despite a tiny, apathetic audience consisting largely of the opening bands and friends of the opening bands, Diamond Nights delivered the gospel of rock. In the dingy back room of an out-of-the-way Denver bar, breathing in an atmosphere consisting of equal parts cigarette smoke and body odor, they resurrected the tired ghost of arena rock with a cocky swagger and goofy charm. From the first words out of Phalen's mouth it was clear these guys had come to bring the rock in all its adolescent glory.

"Get a little closer ... our fluids should become your fluids ... by the end of the night, everybody should have a little blood and a little cum on them," he said as he stepped to the mike, beckoning the crowd forward. Hesitant at first, the crowd began to move forward as the set progressed. For "The Girl's Attractive" they invited most of the women in the bar onstage to dance. By the time they reached "Saturday Fantastic," their obligatory ode to the weekend, they had the audience slapping them high-fives, throwing the devil horns and generally acting in the spirit of dumb-ass rock revelry.

And dumb-ass is the term for it. There's something aggressively immature about the kind of thumping riff rock they deliver, but according to Phalen, it's simply a natural result of his unusual biology.

"The thing is, my (baby) teeth never fell out; I had to have them removed. So we're just kind of living our adolescence now," he said. "It took us a long time. I just stopped peeing in my bed."

Like their forebears, Diamond Nights live rock. Once the show is over, the night's just beginning. They make no secret of their love of booze and other delights of touring.

"We were just in Las Vegas two days ago. I spent the whole next day vomiting everything that I ate. Somebody slipped in it," Phalen said. After a moment's reflection he corrected himself, "It wasn't my vomit, it was somebody else's vomit (they slipped in). I had my own vomit, but nobody slipped in it."

Even in Denver Phalen has managed to find some tawdry rock moments.

"Last time we were in (Denver) we had a wild time. I went back home with these two girls who were makeup artists and they did a whole makeover job on me on me ... I couldn't get the eye makeup off for like a week or so," he said. "But it was good times. They smoked a lot of marijuana, those girls. A lot. And then they ... put makeup on me. Young ladies have ointments and creams to remove makeup, and I don't have that."

When drummer Tim Traynor mentioned the "out-of-control groupie action" they've seen, Phalen took a moment to wax philosophical on that most important of topics.

"I don't know what groupies are, but I think there are girls that like bands a lot. And we've met them. It's not like the good ole' days, like Led Zeppelin times. I think (the groupies) all like Limp Bizkit now," he said.

Clarifying his band mate's insight, Traynor added his own thoughts. "I think the definition of groupie is kind of hazy these days. It used to mean someone that would follow a band ... but now I think it just means whatever girls you can coerce into going back to your hotel room with you after the show," he said.

"That's the thing, there are lots of just average regular girls that say they've never done that before," Phalen said. "Girls like cocaine and hotels."

It remains to be seen whether Diamond Nights can lead cock rock back to world domination, but they aren't concerned. Like their music, their ambitions are simple and direct.

"I'm hoping for more flashers in our audience ... We'll take flasher domination instead of world domination," Traynor said.

"Who cares about world domination, we just want to be able to do this some more," Phalen said.