Psst: I changed the names *here* to respect their privacy 

                            Faux fur and fishnet stockings mandatory 

I thought my gut would bust open from laughing so hard. *Kelly* cracked up, too, wanting to know what was so funny.

“I saw it!” I managed to blurt out when I finally came up for air.

The “it” was Ricky Rat’s indecent exposure. It caught my eye when he rolled over on stage strapped to his guitar as his skirt somehow flew open sans underwear. Oh, Lord. I didn’t mean to look. 

That improv moment symbolized the first time I saw the Trash Brats perform live on stage. I’ll never forget it. The pop/punk/rock/glam band brightly colored the Detroit scene for a couple decades before retiring their platform shoes and glitter make-up around 2005. But you can still catch the band members around town pursuing other musical projects, not to mention the occasional Trash Brats reunion.

Anyone who followed the local Motor City music scene during those years, even a wee bit, knew of the Trash Brats. The guys left an impression everywhere they went and became pretty popular in the process. The late Wesley Willis even wrote and performed a song about them appropriately called “Trash Brats.” They drew a large following, but then there were always some people who didn’t know what make of the band. 

                                                                        

My first night seeing the Trash Brats live was in July 1990. I was 20 years old. God, that seems so young now. I was a bit apprehensive about going to the show because I heard stories about people in the audience getting physically hurt when they performed. Yes, it sounded dangerous, but I was game. 

My Trash Brats debut fell in the middle of a summer thunderstorm, the kind that rips through town quickly and ruthlessly. *Marcy,* Kelly and I made our way  to New York New York in Warren, the club where the band gigged that night. Because of the storm, we did something we normally didn’t do; we valet parked our car so we wouldn’t get drenched.  

Once inside, the bar atmosphere grabbed a hold of me. After hearing all of the stories about the band, I was anxious to see to them. When they hit the stage, I fell in love with the Trash Brats on the spot. It was like, “Where have you been all my life?” It just took one guitar riff. 

        I loved everything about them from the start: their songs, style, attitude, vibe, stage show, love for music. Yes, the Trash Brats were here to stay. They were the boogie to my woogie…..the sticks to my stones…..the gin to my juice. They were rebels with a cause, and that cause was rock ‘n’ roll. 

                    

How would I best describe the band’s sound? Hmm. First, grab a lead guitarist in his  flashiest faux fur and fishnet stockings, a playful frontman, a passionate drummer and a put-everything-out-there bass player. Marinate them in a bowl of the New York Dolls.

        From there, add a splash of Alice Cooper into the brew and bake it at Hanoi Rocks. Take it out of the Ramones and serve it with a side of Cheap Trick. For dessert, whip up some Joan Jett, and wash everything down with a glass of early, raw Motley Crue.

        I went to tons of their shows over the next decade-and-a-half. Each show was a cross between Halloween and New Year’s Eve. I never grew tired of them. It was always entertaining to watch singer Brian Oblivion, guitar man Ricky Rat, bassist Tony Romeo and drummer Craig Cashew do their thang. (There were several other drummers, too, including Jimmy Vegas and T.T. Barr.)

        

        Each show came with sky-scraping energy. The band had so many songs: “Downtown Nowhere,” “Bubblegum Girl,” “Gerri’s Song,” “Gas Boy,” “3873 Marlborough St.,” “Trap Door,” “I Don’t Wanna Dance,” “Someday It’s Too Late.” I’m still trying to figure out who “Bar Star” is about. Every now and then, they would toss in an Elvis Presley or Rolling Stones cover.

        Let’s not forget the fashion. The Trash Brats always came to the party in their best after-fives: skirts, babydoll dresses, platform shoes, makeup, glittery shirts and more. Paying tribute to the King, Brian even had an Elvis jumpsuit. 

        And the crowd was a riot, bopping up and down to the songs. All the diehard fans knew the words to each song and would sing right along...stage dive...run around....you name it. 

        They played everywhere. The Ritz in Roseville, the Hamtramck clubs Paycheck’s and Lili’s, and several Detroit spots: St. Andrew’s Hall, the Impound and Harpo’s. They opened up for Kid Rock in the mid-1990s at the State Theater (now the Fillmore) although the crowd really didn’t warm up to them. The Ritz shows were probably my favorite. 

        I remember the band going on tour around the U.S. and I think even Japan. (Someone correct me if I’m wrong.) My friends and I even drove all night to New York City for a show when the band played shows out-of-state in the summer of 1995. They were also a mainstay at many rock dives in Ohio. 

        I even got to know the Trash Brats on a personal level. A few friends and I hung out with the band here and there when the four guys lived together in St. Clair Shores in the mid-1990s. We’d watch rock ‘n’ roll documentaries or play the drinking game, quarter bounce. Good guys and funny, too. One time while playing quarter bounce, Ricky Rat cracked everyone up because he kept making this face while saying ‘I’m looking for the WEEEEEEEE people.” I had no idea what he meant, but man, it was so funny.

        They definitely belong in the rock ‘n’ roll history books somewhere. 

        Thank you from the bottom of my ‘80s mini-skirts, Trash Brats, for the miles of fun, unforgettable shows, great music, forever friends, watered-down rum and Cokes, nonstop laughter and occasional nudity.

In harmony, Maria Allard