In the days before 18-piece bands with toy instruments and bearded guys throat-singing sensitive person music, a band like Stalkers wouldn't have been regarded as uncommon in this town. Alas, a lot has changed in the Bush years, musically and every other way, and the straight-up garage rock swagger of this quintet stands out much more than before.

It's also more welcome than ever. Sporting a range of looks from biker sleaze to London-dandy to distinguished blues-man, Stalkers trade in simple, memorable songs, both danceable and muscularly played, steeped in a Misfits-aficionado's sense of anthemic melody and air of intimidation. In short, the very things New York music used to be known for.

So, they're not a band you'd introduce to mother / girlfriend / little sister / publicist, even though they could all get behind the tunes. Additionally, when you stand amid the sea of Betty Page haircuts, vintage dresses, faux leopard skin jackets, bright red lipstick and the occasional hula hoop, you'll conclude too: best looking fan base in the city. Girls just wanna have fun.

They're playing a CMJ show at Brooklyn's Trash Bar - a.k.a. The Place with the Tater Tots - on Saturday night, just before the highly-recommendable Sad Little Stars. Anyone who's not either at this or the Vice Party that night should have their rock badges revoked.

Photo by Jax, of course.