The New Gunslingers (by Jay Hale)

Like a little flash with your lead guitarist? Fat City brings you three axemen - and one axe woman - who were born to be modern day guitar heroes.

Euroboy (Turbonegro): Like death and taxes, debates among guitarists are inevitable. Whether it’s at the Berklee School of Music, the Guitar Center around the corner or the local rehearsal space, somebody somewhere at sometime is going to drudge up the classic argument of Les Paul or Strat? Dirty or Clean? Jimmy Page or Pete Townshend? These are all tough decisions and who’s to say who’s right? Inside Turbonegro’s dressing room however, the internal struggle within the mind of guitarist extraordinaire Euroboy (né Knut Schreiner) is much more daunting. Does the red or the brown lipstick look best with this eye glitter? Should I wear the blemish-free silver army helmet, standard sailor cap or SS-style service hat tonight? Because when it comes to showing the world what a true modern day rock god looks like, you’d better look your best.

Gel (The Eyeliners): Some people are so uncoordinated that they can’t walk and chew gum at the same time. Don’t you dare count Eyeliners guitarist Gel among this stumbling bunch. On any given night at any given club you’ll find her not only chewing gum and strutting around on stage simultaneously but you’ll catch her playing guitar behind her back. Or with her teeth. While in a complete split. And never, ever, does she miss a beat. Try topping that fellas. Most guitarists draw from a major influence for their on-stage persona but Gel can’t seem to narrow the basis of her showmanship down to a single person. “I’ve just always loved when people are over the top on stage,” she says. “The more extreme, the better ... at least in my humble opinion. I always figured, anyone can learn to play their instrument, but it’s the way you approach it that counts. There’s a million bands that just get up on stage and stand there with no movement — I didn’t want to be one of them.”

Marc Orrell (Dropkick Murphys): Although they formed in 1996, the majority of Boston’s punk rock underground didn’t realize just how special the Dropkick Murphys were until they blew the roof off the Rat during their first St. Patrick’s Day gig the following year. They had played quality shows around town but this was the catalyst that propelled them into the limelight and onto the Mighty Mighty Bosstones’ “Boston On The Road” U.S. tour (the Dropkicks’ first), culminating in an opening slot before a capacity crowd New Year’s Eve celebration at the Worcester Centrum. From there, the band’s future was destined to be the punk rock equivalent of sunshine and lollipops — a sold-out record release show at the Middle East and a subsequent tour in support of their debut full length, Do or Die, with the Business. Fate apparently was not on the Dropkicks’ side. A mere two months later, lead vocalist Mike McColgan was giving the band the Heisman, leaving his cohorts to pursue a life-long dream of fire fighting. That summer Al Barr of the Bruisers took the helm of the ship and led it toward a different horizon. The following summer while on the road promoting their sophomore release, The Gang’s All Here, the Dropkicks enlisted tourmate James Lynch of the Ducky Boys to bolster their guitar sound alongside founding member Rick Barton. But as the millennium approached Barton, too, parted ways after remarrying, leaving bassist Ken Casey as the lone survivor of the original four piece. The Dropkick Murphys had made great strides in just under four years and they weren’t about to let the momentum slip through the cracks. They were able to replace a vital cog in McColgan so Casey and drummer Matt Kelly were equally confident they could find a proper replacement on guitar. But how should they go about it? Youth movement, anyone?

Craig Fairbaugh (Mercy Killers/Lars & The Bastards): He may not be a maestro with the guitar but he sure knows how to use it. Growing up in the Bay Area, Fairbaugh had the punk rock bug sink its fangs into his jugular at the ripe age of 15 and he quickly became a staple at the legendary Gilman St. collective in Berkeley, witnessing the salad days of AFI and the Swingin’ Utters. He later formed and fronted his own three-piece band, Vintage 46. Although this fledgling act did get to open a community center show for the aforementioned AFI (“I did a front flip off the stage during their set and landed on the seats just behind the pit — I couldn’t walk right for a week!” he recalls) Vintage 46 never really played more than local house parties and small hometown gigs. Along the way, Fairbaugh handed off a demo CD to Rancid’s Tim Armstrong who vowed to release one of the band’s albums on a new label he was starting up. Though that never materialized, Fairbaugh had made inroads to vast opportunities which would open up less than five years down the road.

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