Photography and words by @JoelShoverPhotography
A warm desert breeze on October 24th 2025 pushed across the Event Lawn at Virgin Hotels Las Vegas as capes, floaties, and foam villains took their places. This one was billed as “Trick or Treat to the Beat,” and the crowd showed up like Halloween had already clocked in: a forest of top hats and curls for Slash look-alikes, little Elvises striking karate poses, grinning clowns, a Thriller-era Michael Jackson in the red jacket, and—prophecy for later—inflatable sharks bobbing above the lawn.
The runway to chaos started early: Left Alone cracked the gate with street-wise ska-punk swing; Mike V & The Rats followed like a right hook—skater-punk bark and sandpaper guitars; and Homegrown snapped the evening into sprint with OC pop-punk sugar and stacked harmonies. Three openers, zero dead air—the stage was wired for a comic-book detonation.
Enter the world’s greatest superhero rock band. The Aquabats—MC Bat Commander (Christian Jacobs), Eaglebones Falconhawk (Ian Fowles), Ricky Fitness (Richard Falomir), Crash McLarson (Chad Larson), and Jimmy the Robot (James Briggs)—hit like a channel-flip from reality to Saturday morning. Eaglebones carved surf-punk hooks, Ricky kept the pogo heartbeat, Crash dropped cartoon-big bass, and Jimmy toggled from synth sparkle to sax blasts while the Commander worked the barricade like a caped ringmaster, tossing quips to pirates, vampires, and a pint-sized Elvis in the front row.
They didn’t ease in; they splashed in. “The Shark Fighter!” bit first—perfect for those inflatables now surfing the crowd like dorsal fins through neon. Without dropping tempo they beamed into “Martian Girl!”, all retro-sci-fi shimmer and call-and-response chants, then snap-rolled into the B-movie bounce of “Cat With 2 Heads!”. The Halloween vibe only amped the theatrics: the Commander mock-dueled a plastic scythe, and a Slash double threw devil horns as Eaglebones ripped a cheeky mini-solo.
The middle stretch played like a montage of Aquabats myth and mischief. “Lovers of Loving Love!” gave the costumed chorus a chance to sway; the cafeteria-riot cheer of “Pizza Day!” sent inflatable slices crowd-surfing; and the victory-pose strut of “Look at Me, I’m a Winner!” teed up a zombie pageant for “Fashion Zombies!”—where our Thriller Michael led a lawn-wide zombie shuffle. When the tempo jumped to skate-park speed for “My Skateboard!”, clowns, cowboys, and cadets alike spun the pit into a grinning carousel.
Between songs, the Aquabats’ universe unfolded—goofy baddies invading the stage, “rescues” in slow-motion, and the Commander narrating the mayhem like a delighted Saturday- morning host. Then came the rallying cry of “No Rewind”—a turbo reminder to live inside the moment—followed by the theremin-tinged creep of “Dr. Space Mummy!”, Jimmy’s keys and sax turning the lawn into a haunted space lab that fit the costumes a little too well.
The last act hit with that classic one-two. “Super Rad!” detonated like a confetti warhead—rooftop-ready choruses shaking the top hats—and the inevitable closer, “Pool Party!”, turned strangers into teammates while every floatie went airborne. Sharks circled. Elvises danced. Slash approved. If you left without confetti in your shoes, you left too early.
For the uninitiated: born from mid-’90s SoCal ska chaos, the Aquabats evolved into a neon new-wave/punk machine with a superhero mythos—part concert, part comic strip, all hooks. On this Las Vegas night, the openers stacked the kindling; the Halloween crowd brought the costumes; the Aquabats lit the fuse. Super rad, indeed.
Go See Live Music……
Till The Next Show….Joel
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