Marky Chavez no longer On the Rox with Midnight Panic - By N.L. Belardes

For people who doubt Marky Chavez for his split with Adema, rest assured that Midnight Panic came into its own last Thursday night with an appearance at On the Rox in Hollywood. An intimate venue for fans, On the Rox is an upstairs club at Hollywood’s popular The Roxy Theatre on Sunset Strip. There, Hollywood people, LA college students and executives explore visiting bands in the vibe of the Hollywood music fast track.



Several Bakersfield bands have played Hollywood/LA venues in the past year, with Bakersfield’s rural rock punk band The Filthies having visited the Key Club and Viper Room, while other bands have played LA’s Zen Sushi and Hollywood’s Whiskey-a-go-go. I know Stereotactic, From Ritual to Romance and the Dalloways have all recently performed down in the California southland. But not all Bakersfield bands have entertained the success of Marky Chavez, whose previous band Adema is one of the most successful bands to have ever come out of Bakersfield.

Yet will Midnight Panic follow suit? I think they have a good chance as they inch closer to nationwide distribution for their self-titled debut CD.



My night began with chingpea of the Smalltown Girls Hollywood gossip podcast. We headed from Hollywood’s backyard in the Central Valley, through the Los Padres, and right into the den of entertainment with a nighttime whirlwind trip to see how the LA/Hollywood crowd would take to Midnight Panic. From the I-5 to the 405 we zoomed, then snuck onto Sunset for a trip through Beverly Hills. We sailed past UCLA only to finally see the red Roxy sign well lit across from a glowing Hustler store, where posh patrons of the adult world wore their best to dine on the sexual appetite of their Hollywood desires.

Midnight Panic’s bass player, Mike Montano was out on the Sunset Strip with a cell phone. “I’m waiting for my brother,” he said waiting at the entrance to an underground parking structure. I could see into the gangsterland looking parking garage with big Italian guys in suits shaking hands. I was happy I parked a street to the south, past rows of scaffolding in a tiny $10-a-car lot. I wasn’t in the mood to see any bodies stuffed in the trunk of my car on the way out. Especially my own.

The Hollywood streets were alive with the chatter of people, music from nearby buildings and the zooming of passing cars. The Roxy itself, adorned with neon looked like a movie waiting to be walked into: chingpea the luscious actress of the story, Midnight Panic the music, and me the camera—just an eye following the action of the tinseltown moment. Just past Mike we said a quick hello to guitarist Peter and vocalist Marky then headed upstairs to the Roxy’s On the Rox bar.


Marky Chavez, brother of Korn's Jonathan Davis,
wanders dark Hollywood streets

On the Rox emanated a dark blue neon glow. Black-and-white photos adorned the walls of past performances there, while the bar itself glowed and reflected off mirrors where ‘On the Rox’ had been etched.


The staircase leading up to On the Rox


chingpea hangs out in the blue-lit bar





chingpea got fancy and drank a Sprite with lime that she tried to squeeze but shot herself in the eye. So much for being cool with the Hollywood elitists. She covered it up well by looking sexy in a room of Hollywood hipsters and Midnight Panic fans.


chingpea looks out an upstairs window at pedestrians across the street

Midnight Panic took the stage and the crowd jammed in to be a part of the Hollywood vibe. Their set was short, maybe 8 songs long. Although she hadn’t heard them before, chingpea agreed that Midnight Panic has a hard-edged sound with pop-style punk hooks in the music. “Tonight Is Our Last Night” as well as “Celebrate” stuck in my head as usual, taking a good day to rid my brain of the catchiness of such songs. I recently emailed Marky Chavez that his music is both good and annoying. Good because I like it; annoying because he’s good with the hooks he develops with Peter and the rest of the band to keep melodies in my thoughts long after a gig.







Marky himself didn’t seem nervous as the band overcame any technical difficulty with quick transitions between songs and only short bits of dialogue as he greeted the LA/Hollywood scene. He thanked fans and family for attending.





Midnight Panic played 3-4 new songs, one which I don’t know the name but I noticed grabbed me and the fans with an intensity that you can only get from good radio tunes ala U2 The Edge riffs (only distorted) layered and repeating over dancing vocals. I tried to call Marky to get the titles. But you know how it is to try and phone a rock star…







During the show I took breaks from taking photos to hang out with chingpea who sat on the high edge of a booth so she could see over fans’ heads to the performance. We did some people watching as we listened. “Who do you think might be a record executive or some other important person?” I asked. chingpea glanced around the room and shrugged her shoulders. I noticed a bald guy with a long-sleeved stripped shirt. “There’s one,” I said. I then saw another guy who resembled a young David Letterman with a sports coat, T-shirt and glasses. I nodded in his direction.

“I know who isn’t,” smiled chingpea. “Look over at those kids. There’s one with a hat and rich kid clothes. He’s wanting to look hip, but tried to hard.”

I agreed. Kenny ‘Motor’ Mount could have worn the same hat better. I then decided to take our conversation to a personal level. I wanted chingpea’s view on the cool Bakersfield novelist. “If you didn’t know me but walked into the bar tonight and saw me, what would you think?”

“Retired hipster.”

“Retired hipster??”

She laughed.

I grumpily got up to take more photos.

After the show we hung out downstairs to say goodbye to the band. But Marky asked if we wanted to get a cup of coffee. There were just a few of us in the group and we soon headed to a posh Hollywood Hotel.


A Hollywood meeting in a dark hotel bar...

We wandered in for a drink, sat on couches while chingpea plopped herself on a leopard print low-lying stool and almost fell off. That’s what you get for calling me old, I thought. Luckily I was the only one who noticed as the conversation turned into an interesting atmosphere of music there in the darkness of a Hollywood moment.

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Sunday, April 09, 2006. You can leave your response.