Headliners Lizzy Borden have been fixture on the Los Angeles music scene since the mid-80s, when they prowled the Sunset Strip with the likes of Motley Crue, Faster Pussycat and L.A. Guns. With a sound as heavy as Judas Priest and a stage show as outrageous as Alice Cooper, there has never been another west coast band like them.

Wrapping up the rabidly attended Summer of Blood tour in their own backyard of Southern California, expectations for an unforgettable show were high. Unfortunately, whatever momentum the band had gathered on the road was brought to a brick wall halt by the ineptitude of the venue, The Can, which cravenly stacked the bill with seven bands, ensuring short sets for all and maddeningly long break-down and set-up times between the acts.

While the fans had been told Lizzy Borden would take the stage at 11 p.m., their set did not begin until almost 1 a.m. With a 2 a.m. closing time, the band effectively had 60 minutes to cram in their typical two hour set. Just as the crowd's restlessness approached unmanageable, the band hurtled onto the stage as if shot from a cannon, exploding into 'Tomorrow Never Comes' while scantily-clad dancing girls gyrated on either side of the drums. Lizzy, shrouded in a dark hooded robe, his face hidden by a black cloth with two eerie red lights in place of his eyes, quickly seized control of the unruly crowd and did not release them until the lights came on at the end of the gig.

More challenges presented themselves with the mix, which sounded like the venue had a golden retriever working the sound board. It didn't help that the room has the acoustic properties of a potato field, but the drums were not miked and consequently drummer Joey Scott sounded like he was hitting a pair of shoeboxes. His frustration, and the rest of the band's, was evident from the outset. It was not until the fourth song, 'Live Forever', that the sound issues were finally resolved. To be fair, Lizzy Borden is a seasoned frontman who overcame the technical challenges and managed to keep his crowd fully engaged the entire show.

Guitarist AC Alexander, Lizzy Borden's white hot new guitarist, roamed the stage like a panther, firing off blistering leads that suggested rich classical influences, although his playing style is full-tilt arena-sized metal. Switching on and off with Alexander, guitarist Dario Lorina's thin, shirtless figure belied a titanic prowess for delivering rhythms that are at once speedy, yet soaked in blues. On bass, Marten Andersson played up to the crowd all night long, while firmly locked in with Scott, kicking off 'Under Your Skin' with a solar-sized bass solo that would have made Cliff Burton proud.

Lizzy himself sounds as good as he ever did. While many of rock's most powerful voices wane from the stress and abuse of thousands and thousands of shows, Lizzy sounded as good as he did in Penelope Spheeris' legendary documentary, The Decline of Western Civilization Part 2: The Metal Years, where he belts out one of the most memorable songs on the soundtrack- an atomic cover of 'Born To Be Wild'. Over 25 years later, he still owns the stage with equal parts swagger and showmanship, but never at the expense of his ferocious vocals.

It's the theater of Lizzy Borden that makes his shows so fun and unique and from his collection of nightmare-inducing costumes, to zombified dancing girls in serial killer masks, the show did not disappoint. The climax of the evening was when Lizzy seemingly bit into the neck of one of the dancers, the band roaring behind him, sending a crimson red shower of blood that splattered both the band and the fans in the front rows, much to their delight.

The evening closed with 'American Metal', one of the band's enduring hits, inciting a frenzy of approval from the crowd, who began dancing with anticipation for the encores. Sadly, that was all she wrote, as the promoters shut it all down before the band could sneak in one more song. Fans who had driven in from Los Angeles and San Diego were left bitterly disappointed, but not nearly as much as the band, who clearly had only just begun to pick up steam.

Of the six openers, most notable was Mandy Lion WW III, whose hard-charging groove and no bullshit delivery converted the entire house into a new fan base. Lion, an imposing figure who stalked the stage in a leather long coat, cowboy hat, and dark shades, knew how to work a crowd and backed it up with powerful vocals and a charismatic bravado that make him one of the more interesting figures to watch on the Southern California rock circuit.