A Brief History:

"They're so goddamned annoying I just want to kill them!" "Every time I hear them I wanna throw up," "They unequivocally suck ass and have sent music back to the Stone Age," are just a few of the things that have been said about the punk/rock/asshole-music outfit known as Enchanted Roadkill, which was originally assembled by everybody's favorite cocky gypsy loudmouth (Donita, duh) purely to spite Rakus Brakus, the lead singer of the vampire punk group Panged Funk.  The tattooed, pierced, and combative Rakus Brakus took issue with Donita following a Rapture show at which the gypsy singer led the metal band through a roaring cover of the Ramones' seminal "Blitzkrieg Bop" . . . according to Brakus, who claims to be the guy who actually influenced the Ramones and started up the punk movement, Donita wasn't worthy of singing a punk song and shouldn't be allowed to sing any punk song, because she's obviously a metalhead poser.  Donita, who's had a love of punk music since the first time she saw the Ramones play at CBGB's in New York and has been a member of the Misfits Fiend Club since its inception, was predictably upset with this allegation, and managed to yank out three of Brakus' six facial piercings and bounce his head off of a dumpster no less than seven times before Katheryne was finally able to drag the kicking and cursing gypsy away, saving the ungrateful punk rocker from further mutilation.

Not satisfied with merely thomping Brakus a good one, Donita decided that it was high time she got around to finally having a little punk-styled project of her own, not only for fun, but to further piss Brakus off and give everybody who took themselves too seriously the big middle finger.  For you see, Donita belongs more to the older school of punk, which was loud, obnoxious, rude, and simply didn't give a damn; they pissed all over trendy causes, spat on commercial conformists, and did everything they could to anger and annoy the politically correct, and the gypsy had been getting increasingly irked by the newer breed of punk bands, which embraced trendy causes, made commercially-palatable music, and were very correct politically, though they claimed to be rebellious.  However, she kept her mouth shut about it, figuring different strokes for different blokes, but Brakus ended up yanking on the tail of an extremely noisy lion when he questioned her punk credentials.  "Punk rock, to me, is about a bunch of crude jerks making as much noise as they possibly can, having a good time while doing it, and fighting or eating anything that got in their way, while watching a bunch of old horror movies in between all that," Donita says, "Do you think Sid Vicious or Joey Ramone ever gave a shit about whether or not they offended anyone?  Do you think they ever kissed anybody's ass in the name of politics?  Did the Misfits ever sing anything socially relevant?  Hell no!  I'm gonna take my brand of punk and shove it straight up his ass until it blows his eardrums out, and then I'm gonna beat him over the head with it.  It's what Sid would've done, dammit."  So Donita grabbed Stacey, the king of obnoxious, and the two sat down and began to write the songs that would help define become the backbone of Enchanted Roadkill.

Enchanted Roadkill, which originally consisted of Donita, Katheryne (who, despite her gentle nature, loves to play hard, vicious music), and Stacey, played a show at a small-scale club in the seedy section of L.A., and though the crowd was really into the blaring, three-chord mayhem of the trio, Donita and Stacey got so wired they ended up smashing most of their equipment, starting a small riot, and burning half of the club down.  So despite the fact that they had a ball, it was decided by both the long-haired guitarist and noisy gypsy (in a rare moment of common sense), that they had probably better not play in Enchanted Roadkill together for the simple fact that they knew things would only get worse with every show, as the mayhem ante would get upped to ridiculous levels.  You see, Donita and Stacey love to pound on and tease each other relentlessly, but when you put them together into a situation where they're out to cause as much chaos as possible, the word 'overkill' doesn't even begin to describe what they're capable of.  As Steele has said, "the only thing worse than Stacey and Donita at odds is Stacey and Donita united in purpose."  Stacey said, with a donkey-laugh, "I'm all for having fun on stage, but after that show, holy shit . . . I wanna make music, but I think if that kind of stuff keeps up, either me or Donita is gonna get killed sooner or later!"  Dorian, who was looking for something a little different to do, offered up his services as bassist and potential calming influence, which Donita jumped on, and the gypsy soon got hold of a young half-vampire guitarist named Mick Morbius, who hailed from the Midwest and had been helped through fledglinghood by Donita several years before, and the quartet was complete.

After some practice sessions and long discussions concerning the future form and shape of the band, the foursome decided to take a page from the Ramones and adopt stage names that ended in 'Roadkill,' as well as add elements of rock 'n roll and heavy metal to the music here and there, creating a really loud bastard hybrid sound that was essentially a mutated punk monster with some seriously catchy 1950's style melodies.  They also further honed the crude, crass humor that was all over the first batch of songs that Donita and Stacey had conjured up, and the majority of Enchanted Roadkill's songs were humorous, anthemic pieces that refused to take themselves or anything else seriously . . . the music and lyrics were very much on the misanthropic side, crafted to offend and annoy the thin-skinned, and delight those who could take a joke, as well as those who actively hated the human race.  The band also went for a mishmash look, not trying to follow any conventional type of punk attire . . . everybody just goes up in whatever suits them, and if Donita looks like a gypsy who shops at Goodwill and Dorian looks like a surfer prettyboy, while Katheryne's in jeans and a t-shirt and Mick's decked out in his usual all-black leather ensemble, all the better.

A few weeks later, the new and retooled Enchanted Roadkill was ready to hit the club scene in L.A., and it didn't take them long before they stirred up a lot of attention, both positive and negative.  Their music was loud, fast, and cut-throat, and their stage presence was considerable, especially with Donita's lecherous and destructive antics, which included guitar-smashing, fireball-throwing, blood-spitting (borrowed from Rapture), and leaping into the crowd to stir them up even more . . . most Enchanted Roadkill shows were (and still are)  near-riots, though fortunately they were usually good-natured, if barely held in check.  Nobody seemed to have a middle-of-the-road opinion on Enchanted Roadkill . . . they either loved 'em or hated 'em, precisely what Donita wanted.

Following the first bunch of shows, Donita decided that she also wanted female backup singers whenever possible, to further enhance their sound and lend an annoying pop edge to some of the songs, such as their already-incendiary cover of Paula Abdul's "Cold-Hearted Snake," and when Mary heard that the gypsy (who she admired a great deal) was in need of backup vocalists, she volunteered for the job, and managed to convince Kimmie to go along with it, too.  Kimmie nearly walked out on their first gig, however, as when Donita spied Rakus Brakus and the rest of Panged Funk in attendance, she picked up an amp and pitched it at Brakus' head during "I Wish You'd Die," and then flung herself into the crowd after him . . . as you can guess, a big fight ensued.  Immediately, Dorian, Mick, and Katheryne all charged off the stage after their leader, fending off the attacks of the other members of Panged Funk (five members in all) and kicking some serious ass of their own . . . even normally-gentle Katheryne got ferocious when Panged Funk's bassist broke a chair over Donita's head; Katheryne ended up breaking both of his arms and then flinging him through the club's plate-glass window.  Then when Enchanted Roadkill had finished kicking the shit out of Panged Funk, they all climbed back up onto the stage (battered, bruised, bloody, and beaming) and finished their set, to the roaring approval of the hyped-up crowd.  The feud between the two bands is far from over, however, and if you ask Rakus Brakus, Panged Funk actually chased the Roadkill crew back up onto the stage after soundly kicking their ass, though anybody who was there and those who've seen the bootleg video of the show tend to disagree . . . Brakus wasn't chasing anybody, considering he had a folding chair wrapped around his head.

For the moment, Enchanted Roadkill has firmly entrenched itself into the Los Angeles and Hollywood punk scene, to the delight of some and the chagrin of others, and endless debates are waged over whether or not they're legitimately punk at all . . . Donita laughs herself silly on a regular basis over all of it, loving the attention and controversy she's stirred up with her little side-project.  "Whether they adore us or abhor us, they know who the hell we are," she says, "And they can question our credentials all they want, I don't give a shit, because we're not only going out there and having a good time, but we're also pissing off a bunch of stupid assholes, and if anybody wants to rumble, all the better.  We're saying what we want to say, we're doing what we want to do, and we're rude, crude, and bad as hell . . . isn't that what punk's all about, anyway?  Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."

Releases:

As it's a new band, Enchanted Roadkill hasn't yet taken the time to put anything to tape just yet, though bootlegs, both audio and video, of their shows abound, not only for the high-energy musical performances, but also for the lunatic antics of the band.  The video of the show where Donita flung the amp at Rakus Brakus and started up the big fight in the middle of Armin's Alley is especially sought-after, and more and more copies of it are appearing every day . . . your best bet is to find a guy in a rusty black 1978 Chevy van named Dave, as he's always got a few copies in the back of his van for a reasonable price.  Despite his rough appearance and rather bizarre speech patterns, Dave is a trustworthy guy and guarantees all of his bootlegs . . . just cruise around the Strip long enough, and you'll find Dave sooner or later.