October 11, 2026 – Alex’s Bar, Long Beach
The legendary Handsome Dick Manitoba of The Dictators brought his New York attitude and hard-hitting energy to Long Beach, California, Sunday, October 11th. What an honor for our city, and what a phenomenal time.
I heard some great stories, listened to some live music, and was ecstatic to be there for authentic, real New York rock ’n’ roll. The kind that doesn’t need to put on an act because it never was one.
This was a matinee show, with LA Slum Lords opening and The Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs taking the stage before the headliner, the Handsome Dick Manitoba Band, brought it home.
I hit the merch booth immediately, copped a couple of T-shirts and some vinyl, and spent quality time in between the opening artists in conversation with Manitoba’s band members. Michael Butler and Craig Behrhorst. I love New York people, man. There’s something about that attitude that I respect. It’s straightforward and no bullshit, baby, no pretending to be something you’re not. What you see is what you get.
LA Slum Lords, who have been in the punk scene since 1979, came out swinging. They closed their set with a Motörhead classic, dedicating “Born to Raise Hell” to the late Jennifer Finch. Lead singer Patty Hearse is a force too, walking right up to people in the crowd and singing in their faces. That’s how you do it. Much respect. They earned themselves a new fan.
The Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs ripped, too. Frank Meyer on vocals and guitar, delivering the kind of set that reminds you why live rock ’n’ roll is a different animal altogether. Handsome Dick even gave Frank a shout-out during his closing set.
Now let’s get to the reason we were all there. Handsome Dick Manitoba.
We were the Sh!t
Between songs, Manitoba was telling stories about the early days, when he and his friends wanted to be rock ’n’ roll stars. They got signed by the Blue Öyster Cult management and production team, Sandy Pearlman and Murray Krugman, and suddenly, back in the Bronx, they were BMOC — Big Men on Campus.
“We were the shit,” he said.
He went on to describe the Italian neighborhoods in the Bronx, where if somebody thought a little too highly of himself, people would say, “That guy thinks who the fuck he is!”
I mean, come on. You can’t make this stuff up.
Then there was the cardboard cutout audience he pointed out, which was a perfect little reminder that rock ’n’ roll has always had its share of absurdity. And Manitoba knows how to tell a story. He’s funny, he’s quick, and he knows exactly how to keep a room listening.
The Handsome Dick Manitoba band, featuring Scotty Slam on drums, Michael Butler on bass, Craig Behrhorst and Marc Kapetan on guitars, blasted through a hard hitting set that included “The Party Starts Now,” “New York, New York,” “The Next Big Thing,” “Two Tub Man,” “Stay With Me,” and “Who Will Save Rock ’n’ Roll,” along with a blistering cover of the MC5’s “Kick Out the Jams.”
When the Bass breaks, the show goes on
And then there was Michael Butler, the bass player, who threw himself into the performance so hard he actually broke his bass.
“When I find that guy who broke my bass, I’m gonna kick his ass,” he joked into the microphone.
But Handsome Dick wasn’t about to let him leave the stage. “I want him to stay up here because I love this guy. He’s a really good singer, so stay up here, put your bass down, and just help me sing this song.”
Someone from The Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs came to the rescue with another bass; they plugged him in, and the show went on. That’s rock ’n’ roll, and that’s how it’s done. Things break. Shit happens. You figure it out and keep playing. At one point, Manitoba looked out at the crowd and said, “I love this town, Long Beach, this beach town. It’s so antithetical to my Bronx upbringing.”
And there it was. A Bronx rock ’n’ roll original standing on a West Coast stage, doing exactly what he does best. No bullshit. Just rock ’n’ roll.
A Piece of You Dies
But there was another side to Handsome Dick Manitoba, too, and it was one I won’t soon forget.
He took a moment to dedicate the set to three friends who had been unbelievably important in his life, all of whom he had lost.
First, Scott Kempner of The Dictators and The Del-Lords, who died from dementia. They had met in fifth grade, when they were just ten years old.
Then Ross “the Boss” Friedman, his bandmate in The Dictators and the guitarist who went on to found Manowar, who had died from cancer. Manitoba spoke about how horrific it is to watch someone die from that disease. There was no punchline. Just a man talking about people he loved.
And then Cheetah Chrome, the Dead Boys guitarist he had befriended after Cheetah came from Cleveland to New York. Another friend gone.
“When you’ve got that friend, that means something in your life, that you love having in your life, and they’re gone, a piece of you dies.”
He repeated it.
“A piece dies, a piece dies, a piece dies, until it’s your turn.”
The room got quiet.
“It’s not your turn yet,” he told the crowd. “So you have to tell stories about these people. Jokes that they said, stories, because it doesn’t take away the pain, but it keeps them alive.”
Those words stayed with me.
Because that’s what we do, isn’t it? We tell the stories. We remember the jokes, the music, the ridiculous things they said, the moments that made them who they were. We keep saying their names. We keep their spirits moving through the world, even when they’re no longer here to do it themselves.
Manitoba went on to say how blessed he feels when he wakes up. Not out of some grand declaration of humility, but simply because he’s still here. He does two things every morning.
He takes a sip of coffee, “Nectar of the Gods,” as he calls it, and then says thank you. To God, the universe, or whatever it is you believe in.
“I’m here, you’re here, let’s have fun. Let’s go surfing!”
And just like that, the band launched into “California Sun.”
That’s the thing about Handsome Dick Manitoba. He can have you laughing one minute and thinking about the people you’ve lost the next. He can take you from the Bronx to Long Beach, from a broken bass to the reality of mortality, and somehow bring it all back to the music.
He closed the show by thanking the crowd, then stayed at the merch booth signing memorabilia for every fan who wanted a moment with him. No rushing off, no disappearing backstage. He was there, giving people his time.
I walked away thinking about that song, “Who Will Save Rock ’n’ Roll?”
Maybe it doesn’t need saving from the people who are still out there playing it, and living it, and telling its stories. Maybe it only needs saving from the idea that rock ’n’ roll was ever just about the music.
It’s the attitude. The friendships. The people we lose and the stories we refuse to let die. It’s the ones who get onstage, break a bass, laugh about it, and keep the damn show going.
Who will save rock ’n’ roll?
The people who never stopped living it.
And judging by what went down at Alex’s Bar that Sunday, I’d say rock’n’roll is doing just fine.
Cha Cha Cha.
Article and Photos by Maggie St.Thomas
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