The Royal Highness
Viper Room
October 24, 2010
By Lucky
(SugarBuzz Hollywood)
Photos by Mila Reynaud
SugarBuzz Magazine
“There’s danger on the edge of town. “ Jim Morrison’s words of warning sank deep into my soul as I careened thru the Hollywood hills en route to The Viper on the Sunset Strip. The weather had taken a chilly turn like the hand of death. The rain plummet the dry and crusty earth below. The ignoramuses were let loose upon the land. I had to stay frosty if I was to make it
unscathed.
“Riders on the Strom” serenaded the soak as I drove past the hotels where Janis and John checked out, the dumping site of Bobby and where Pamela lie. I love the scenic route. It’s so nice and gloomy.
Avoiding a few near disasters, I stowed it in the 9000 and high-tailed it across the street to The Bow for a pre-performance piss. Expecting to see old friends and foes, I encountered a strange new breed of sinister. I decided to tread lightly, as what once, and still is my home, was opened to new spooks and specters. I decided to move on down the road. Via haunted Hollywood.
Now tonight’s mission was to get my rocks off courtesy of The Batusis who were in town on a whirlwind roundabout. The rock and roll elite were to assemble and I had guest list access. (I love this job!). Passing the now familiar face of the mountain of a door man (what is this guy’s name anyways?) I got the stamp and straddled the stairway. Some rock band was just ending the early show and I think I heard like 3 or 4 notes before “Thank You, Goodnight”. Oh bother, belly up to the bar my brothers.
As luck would have it, I was in store for greatness from
the next act to strike stage, The Royal Highness. Word on the street has been favorable, and I had seen these boys in action under an earlier moniker. Seems they polished brass and were ready to kick some serious ass.
A full frontal assault commenced with opening kicker “The Time is Now”. In your face all the way with attitude to spare and the goods to back it up, The Royal Highness showed no intimidation.
A tight knit in the pocket “Two Steps Back” was delivered with perfection. Guitar hooks reminiscent of classic AC/DC and an infectious chorus made this a crowd pleaser all the fucking way. Skye is a rambunctious ringleader that rallies the audience into being part of, instead of observing from a distance.
Todd Youth’s (Yep, that Todd Youth) solid SG soar was mortar to the stone with the implementation of “The Misdirected”, a thick solid scape that melded beautifully with the crispy Telecaster blast of guitarist RJ Ronquillo.
Everybody’s new favorite “Little Misfit” heated up the leatherettes with the teddy boys in hot pursuit. Low slung rock and roar perpetrated by the skullduggery of bassist Johnny Martin underscored. Snug tight timing relayed as the band breathed as
one.
Not treading so lightly was “Making Your Way”. Street tough, this band of brothers hit the mark dead on. The Royal Highness clearly was feeding upon the crowd’s energy, and cycled it right back with a wallop. It seems to be a driving force and lackadaisical was not an option.
Releasing more possible pent-up, “On the Run” busted out big. I loved the encouragement to damn the torpedoes and live it rock. Early punk mentalities abounded in the driving upbeat. Scorching lead guitar work was a clincher.
Ty’s protruding pound got us off with “Eye on You”. Full steam ahead, speed limit not included. Structurally sound songwriting 101. Not missing a trick was the message forth coming.
Poignantly this song was a precursor to some unexpected action, or should I say interaction. It seems that some dude with a big mouth and an ability to piss off was spouting. I was right up front and this guy was on the other side a bit back from the stage so I did not hear what was said, but Skye sure as fuck did and when “Eye on You” finished Skye called this guy's bluff. Skye motioned for the heckler to come on up and either say his piece, or perhaps, get his ass 
kicked right then and there. Needless to say heckler boy was intimidated, but still sheepishly approached the stage. I think everyone held their breath, including me. Turns out this guy was all bark and no bite, so Skye kept his cool and was content that the punk looked like a fucking fool. Later security had to “convince” him it was best to take off.
Finalizing the fabulous, The Royal Highness dazzled with a sensational version of Michael Monroe’s “Death, Jail, Rock N Roll”. I usually don’t like cover versions, but this had their own signature spin, all the while being true to the original. Letting the crowd have it with both barrels, it was a grand finale cumulating with a dual guitar sonic sendoff. Bravo!
www.facebook.com/theroyalhighness