Seattle trio Neon Nights pulls off the sweet trick of simultaneously conjuring the sounds of a Sunset Strip rock den and a Lower East Side NYC hardcore crust-hole, both circa 1987. The former comes courtesy of rippin' riffs loud, thick, dirty, and devil-horned, and solos nimble and flashy - guitar work that reeks beautifully of Schlitz, burning rubber, Ace Frehley sweat, and raw groupie sex. The latter comes mainly from frontman Lou Molitch's unhinged shrieks - a hair-on-fire, I'm-being-chased-by-a-pack-of-demonhounds delivery that's reminiscent of another Lou (Koller, of Sick of it All), cut with a smidgen of Sam Kinison. And Neon Nights hammers it's crowds with tunes like 'Born to Die Hard' ('Knowin' nothin' but to keep keepin' on/For the wine, the women, and the song/Gonna give it all I got, all I got 'til it's gone') and 'Party Song' ('It's a party, let's party!/Hey, hey, hey, hey...yeaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!') with nary a trace of irony or calculated retroism. These guys really seem to live it. You may want to, as well.