Danko Jones
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For starters, why don't you ask your girlfriend. Or your sister. Or yo' mama. Or yo' mama's sister's girlfriend. Or better yet, why don't you ask the New Bomb Turks or the Make-Up or Blonde Redhead or Nashville Pussy or the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion or the Hellacopters or the International Noise Conspiracy or Beck - disparate souls who've all been united by one thing: the fear of knowing that they'd have to follow Danko Jones onstage, after he's turned their audiences into his slaves.

Since 1996, Toronto-born devil child Danko Jones has been leaving a trail of destruction, record-company business cards and moist panties from coast to coast, single-handedly bringing the cock back into the rock with several inches to spare. After watching too many indie-rock shows where the bands onstage were just watching their shoes, this rock prodigy strapped on the six-string, took the stage and laid down the rules: 1. All you women, get up front of the stage. 2. A microphone ain't made for mumblin', it's made for SHOUTIN'. 3. You ain't got shit if you don't got soul. 4. Get on in, fuck shit up and don't slip in the puddles when you leave 'em drooling for more. 5. And for chrissake, son, get yourself a decent set of clothes.

Within months, Danko Jones had the Toronto underground in the palm of his hands, and your girlfriend under his thumb. With each live, sweaty display of sexplosive fuck-rock, the legend grew - so much so that national television program The New Music ran a lengthy profile on the man without even being so much granted an interview. No album, no record label, no management, no promotion - just the music and the myth. The number of record-company people in the crowd started to rival that of the ladies, and soon the cries started: "When's the album coming out, man?" But Danko said "NO!" Mike Watt once stated that Minutemen albums were just flyers for their tours -- in the same sense, a Danko Jones album would just be like a discarded piece of sweat-stained lingerie giving off a mere whiff of what happened the night before. Like all the greats - James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, Iggy Pop, Richard Pryor - he must be experienced live and in the flesh. You want a piece of him? You'd have to come and get it.

But with so many sweet young thangs begging for a little piece of Danko that they could enjoy in the privacy of their own homes, our man finally decided to give the people what they wanted (after all, he always aims to please). Hence, the release of the five-song DANKO JONES EP in 1998, a limited edition disc that sold out faster than a virgin's first time in the sack. More record-deal offers, more life-changing live shows, more tossed panties. Then in, late '99 came the boldest move yet: MY LOVE IS BOLD, a six-song teaser of radio-ready raunchiness that put the Danko, bassist JC and drummer Damon all over Canadian TV and radio, while allowing them to infiltrate the cross-Canada summer festival circuit - where, of course, they couldn't resist dusting off some obscure Jesus Lizard covers to confuse the shit out of the frat boys.

So consider yourselves honoured, people - you hold in your hands the very first Danko Jones full-length (heh heh) album: I'M ALIVE AND ON FIRE, a revisiting of past glories (the sledgehammerin', sweet-talkin' "Sugar Chocolate," the lap-dance ditty "Bounce," the crotch-driven crunch of "My Love is Bold") and previously unreleased essentials (the searing mission statement "Rock Shit Hot," the immortal, show-stoppin' "Cadillac"). And after you've tended to the bruises and bodily-orifice violations this record will leave you with, just remember: Danko on disc is but an inflatable fuck-doll compared to his onstage sex-stacular.

So who is Danko Jones? You can call him the Mango Kid. You can call him the Mocha Moses. You can call him Dr. Evening. Or you could just call him delicious. He'll rock you shit hot and leave you stone cold.
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