Fist of Dishonor: Press

It’s late October, the last days of East Burnside’s Outlaws Music Hall, and the club’s green room is full of people pulling on costumes, applying eyeliner and doing warm-up stretches. It’d be easy to mistake this for a play, but it’s not. It’s a rock show.

Tera Nova Zarra, the lead singer, is going over a props list when I come in (they’re missing fake blood). She hands me some plastic roses—apparently I’m going to be part of the show. My bit comes later, onstage, after one of the band’s admirers is slain, comes back as a werewolf, and shoots a bow and arrow with her feet while doing a handstand. As the next song starts, I give Zarra the roses and she bats her eyelashes at me.

“You are a repeat offender,” Zarra sings, “in matters of the heart. You want my sweet surrender, but I’ll never surrender,” she continues—as the bassist holds up a two-by-four, “’cuz I’m a ninja!”

Zarra punches the board in half with her fistful of flowers, and throws the bouquet into the cheering crowd. Then she starts headbanging.

Tera Nova Zarra leads a double life: Normally, she’s a spazzy, earnest geek who wears glasses and works as a vocal coach at the Rock ’n’ Roll Camp for Girls. But onstage she’s Missy Jitsu, a toned, badass sex bomb in tight vinyl, the lead singer of Portland ninja band Fist of Dishonor.

While Fist of Dishonor easily has the most elaborate stage show, ninjas are by no means the only fictional characters rocking out in this town. There are pirates, Klingons, lobsterlike aliens, heavenly boy bands, even Shakespeareian actors playing butt rock.

Portland’s full of persona bands, groups stemming from the tradition of KISS, Ziggy Stardust and GWAR! that take the stage with pseudonyms, fictitious identities and costumes. No fewer than a dozen of them have been active here in the past two years. And until now, many of the local acts have kept their true identities so secret you’d think their loved ones’ lives depended on it.

Portland’s a great place to play dress-up, think of the hundreds of drunken locals who donned red garb for last weekend’s annual SantaCon. In addition to persona acts, Portland’s home to many tribute bands, from the portly Glenn Danzig and company of the Misfats to the Guns N’ Roses stand-ins Appetite for Deception. But where tribute bands pose as real people and play covers, persona bands create fictional identities and often write their own music.

“They bring a different sense of talent beyond good songwriting,” says Ash Street Saloon music booker Heather (who keeps her surname out of the public eye) about persona bands. “From a venue aspect, it’s pretty awesome to be able to mix in something that inventive.”

Being inventive is the point. “We were tired of going out and seeing bands that took themselves too seriously and did not put on a show,” says Fist of Dishonor keyboardist Tim Planagan (a.k.a. Robo D). By day, Planagan, 30, is a project manager at a construction company. He’s talking about his band’s formation in spring 2005, but he could be reciting a manifesto for the local persona movement. “We thought it was obvious that the second your foot touches the stage,” Planagan says, “you should be bringing a show.”

Chris Keller agrees: “This seemed like a really point-A-to-point-B way to have people have a good time.” Keller—or Captain Keller, as he’s called when he’s in the pirate suit he pieced together from Goodwill castoffs and International Male clothing-catalog finds—fronts Sunken Chest, Fist of Dishonor’s arch (onstage) rivals.

Inspiration for Keller came after he drunkenly wrote some piratey songs with a friend. His friend wasn’t into wearing costumes (“he said it lacked musical integrity,” Keller says with a hint of a smirk), so Keller spent the next year and a half posting notices in guitar shops before he pulled together the band’s current four-man lineup in 2004.

A gimmick power-metal band was what former WW contributor Jason Simms, 23, dreamed up—eventually spawning Dagger of the Mind. The Shakespeareian “Bardcore” act, known for its banter and bad English accents, has been accosting crowd members and breaking bottles since October 2005.

“Shakespeare’s like the really metal text,” the Lewis&Clark English grad explains. “It’s constant hyperbole. There’s so much extreme love,” he announces, thrusting his hand aloft like he’s cursing the heavens, “and bitter rivalry,” he says, struggling to push his fists toward each other like they’re repelled by magnetism. Simms and his band ended up embodying those extremes by juxtaposing velvet tunics and tights with epic metal solos.

Tile-factory worker Ward Young saw something similarly metal in a certain breed of Star Trek aliens. “The Klingons were, like, biker-warrior types,” Young, 39, says.

So, Young founded the Klingon band Stovokor (named after the afterlife that awaits victorious Klingon warriors) in 2002. Members of the band have taken their character development to the extreme, posting lengthy MySpace blogs detailing where they fit into Star Trek continuity. Bassist Jason Lewis sums up the band’s commitment: “When I tried out for the band and was accepted,” he says, “I was given a forehead and a black military-issue sweater.” Between ear-splitting death-metal songs, the band, which dons those prosthetic foreheads along with makeup and a combination of Klingon uniforms and metal fashion, is known for its monologues agreeing with U.S. environmental policy and the current administration: “Job well done, Bush, son of Bush!” Lewis exclaimed at one show this fall.

Other bands started as jokes. Self-described “ridiculous, oversexed Portland boy band” Sexy Pants accidentally started after Portlander Adam Barnett and his roommates posted a joke MySpace band page featuring silly dance songs and photos of themselves in cutoff jeans, pouring milk on each other. It became slightly less of a joke when the Tonic Lounge took them seriously and offered them a show.

“It was sort of the transition of, ‘Oh shit! Really? So we need to write more songs, and then figure out how we’re going to perform them?’” says Barnett, 25, who goes by T.C. (Too Cool) when he’s in his oversized Sexy Pants sunglasses. Out of costume, he and the rest of Sexy Pants look like they could be members of any Portland indie-rock band. But onstage, they’re a twisted cavalcade of high socks, belly hair and ironic T-shirts.

But of all the local acts, Fist of Dishonor puts the most work into its performances. The five-piece is augmented by a rotating cast of enemies and allies played by their friends (several of whom are former professional wrestlers), and Zarra trains at least six days a week in partner acrobatics, dance, and fight choreography in gymnastics studios, dance studios and public parks around town.

Offstage, though, not all the bands were entirely comfortable dropping the act long enough for an interview.

“I kind of felt it was like a magician revealing his secret,” says Brian Cummings, a.k.a. Fist of Dishonor drummer Zodiac Snow Wolf, “and there’s some kind of strange in the mystique of it all.”

Initially, Cummings, 34, who wears iris-hiding trick contacts when he’s the Snow Wolf and black-framed Buddy Holly glasses when he isn’t, was vehemently against dropping the persona for an interview—any interview. Several other bands shared his misgivings. Sexy Pants, Stovokor and Sunken Chest had never consented to an interview out of character before. Stovokor’s lead singer, Bill Salfelder, say they’re just trying to live up to the ideal set by persona stars like Alice Cooper and KISS. Salfelder describes Gene Simmons hiding his face as he’d exit venues after shows in the ’70s. Then again, Zarra, and Josh Bass of Sunken Chest, don’t see much difference between themselves and any other band.

“Every band is a dress-up band, because everything you put on, it’s a choice; it’s intention,” says Bass, who performs as Clambeard the Pyrate Drummarr. “Even though you might wear the costume all day, it’s still a costume.” Bass, 37, a sociology instructor at a local university, sees being in a band that dresses like pirates as rock at its most honest. “That’s kind of what rock and roll is all about, to become someone other than who you are in your ordinary life.”

The costumes and shenanigans can be a double-edged sword, especially when the bands hope people will take their music seriously. “It’s tremendously limiting,” says Bass, when it comes to Sunken Chest getting shows with “normal” bands. “It’s hard for us to break out of the costume-band ghetto.”

And some crowd members take these groups a bit too seriously—especially if they’ve been drinking. Fist of Dishonor no longer plays house parties after a drunk tried to fight Missy Jitsu during a show at Southeast Portland’s Funky Church and then tried “getting physical” (and not in a stage-combat way) with her after the show.

Stovokor’s Salfelder—an intimidating 6-foot-8, 350-pound man whose left arm ends at the wrist—punched an audience member who kept grabbing the mic after being warned by the band. Video of the incident ended up on YouTube, and Salfelder says it cost him a potential job with the U.S. government.

Some of the bands sell out shows in town, but nobody in the local persona scene is making enough money to quit their day jobs. But most say their efforts are paying off in sheer fun, and the personas let them get away with things a “normal” band couldn’t.

Sexy Pants’ members reminisce about giving away life-sized posters of themselves in their underwear at a Valentine’s show.

Stovokor’s Klingon identities got them onto the documentary Trekkies II and its soundtrack, scored them a gig at the top of the Space Needle, and got Salfelder a handshake from Dead Kennedys founder Jello Biafra at a show in San Francisco. “[He] thanked us, said we were awesome, [and] gave us suggestions on stage shit,” Salfelder says.

For the Klingons, the hot costumes, and lack of respect from their peers is outweighed by the impression they’ve left on fans and the good times they’ve had.

“I figure when Stovokor breaks up, my next band’s going to be about Dune ,” rhythm guitarist Ward Young muses.

“If this ever breaks up,” Salfelder concludes, “I’m never wearing a fucking costume again in my life.”

FOD's musical ninjas give average rock shows a swift kick in the nuts.


(Photograph by Brandon Seifert)

From a city with enough ninja-inspired rock outfits to lay siege on a small village (or a rock concert, à la Satyricon's Ninja Rock Festival last November) comes a mysterious band. A band that does the shtick right. A band that writes songs about the ninja lifestyle and battles colorfully costumed opponents on a blue tumbling mat at the front of the stage. A band called Fist of Dishonor.

A recent Fist of Dishonor show at Ash Street Saloon had everything but (someone getting hit over the head with) the kitchen sink—Mexican wrestlers, MC battles, costume changes, slow-motion fight sequences and singer Missy Jitsu playing guitar with a vibrator for a pick. During FOD's opening song, Jitsu sang, "You either know what to do with a katana/ Or you're a grown man dressed up in pajamas" and defeated two attacking ninjas during the bridge.

Jitsu wasn't willing to talk candidly about her band, though she graciously directed WW to her (ahem) personal assistant, Tera Nova Zarra, who looks strangely like Jitsu clad in normal clothes. (What, you got disbelief? Suspend it!) Zarra explained that Fist of Dishonor started out as a collection of handpicked bandmates who didn't know how to play their instruments.

"The plan was to recruit fantastic people, and then teach them how to play," Zarra said. Jitsu and second guitarist Shigeru Nakano were the only members of the five-piece band who knew how to play their instruments a month before the first show. But Jitsu's a teacher at the Rock 'n' Roll Camp for Girls, and didn't see the band's inexperience as a problem. "I hate to blow the top off rock 'n' roll," Zarra elaborated, "but it's actually quite easy to learn."

Fist of Dishonor's members had a clear idea of what they wanted the band to be: "Insects singing love songs," said Zarra. But a California band named Insecto was already doing that, so they started brainstorming. Someone said "ninjas." Because the band's high-kicking frontwoman used to teach aikido and has a history with Portland Organic Wrestling, Zarra said it was a no-brainer. And Jitsu eventually called on P.O.W. to produce costumed antagonists for Fist of Dishonor to spar with at shows.

"I love ninjas, I love training in the martial arts, I love rock 'n' roll," Zarra says, breaking character for a moment. "It felt like everything I'd done in my life so far was adding up." The onstage marriage of those elements is what makes Fist of Dishonor—even in a town with plenty of ninja-centric acts (14 Ninjas, Ninjas with Syringes, Surrounded by Ninjas, etc.)—one of the best shows in town.

LocalCut: Fist Of Dishonor at Ash Street Saloon, Feb. 21, 2007


I could tell it was going to be an awesome concert when I saw the table full of Mexican wrestlers.

They stood out in Ash Street Saloon, because the other patrons were dressed as ninjas, kung fu masters, or spacemen—the night’s theme was Aliens vs. Ninjas, after all. But the guys in luchador masks, sitting surly at a corner table the pinball machines, brought the whole scene over the top into WTF-land. Later, I’d learn that they were Caliente and his gang Los Diablos Guapos, here to challenge Fist Of Dishonor’s lead singer to a wrestling match. It’d all make sense then. But initially, I couldn’t tell whether I was more confused by them, or bemused.

I was there to see Fist Of Dishonor. I’d never seen or heard them, but I knew from friends-of-friends that it was something I shouldn’t miss. A band that dresses up like ninjas and fights people during its live sets? My alley doesn’t go any farther up.

I was there expecting a fun show. I was not expecting Fist Of Dishonor to be a quality production is every way a persona band full of fight sequences can be.

The night featured Here Comes A Big Black Cloud, Fleshtone, and Fist Of Dishonor. I arrived near the end of Fleshtone’s set, but please don’t ask me to describe it. There was…dancing? I was still recovering from being hit in the face with a whole bunch of generalized strangeness, and my brain wasn’t able to process the specific strangeness onstage.

Fleshtone finished, and after a long set-up (where band members lay a tumbling mat on the front of the stage, and “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” and “The Imperial March” from Star Wars looped as the pre-show music), it was time for the main attraction.

The lights dimmed, and a spotlight came up on the stage, centered on the lead singer, Missy Jitsu. Jitsu knelt, cleaning the floor with a sponge as the band assembled in the fog-machined darkness. Then the band kicked into its first song, the hard rock number “Bad Sensei.” Missy Jitsu did back-handsprings and kicks, and in the middle of the song she was attacked by two enemy ninjas who she defeated before the end of the bridge.

After “Bad Sensei,” Missy Jitsu explained Fist Of Dishonor’s high concept. It claims to have created a new style of kung fu, based not on the movements of hawks, tigers or praying mantises like other styles, but on the motions of the Rock Star. Then Missy Jitsu announced, “I need someone to take off my hakama pants—you!” and suddenly pointed at a guy in the front row. He helped untie her baggy red samurai pants, revealing skin-tight patent leather. “Wasn’t that worth it?” Jitsu asked the audience. (And indeed, I’d hit that. In a sparring sense, of course. Only a pirate would actually use that as a euphemism.)

The show continued pretty much in the vein of the opening number: Power pop songs about ninja issues, like how you better not talk shit about Jitsu’s sensei; badass fight sequences with random costumed attackers from offstage; Jitsu changing her clothes. Fist Of Dishonor comes off less as a ninja-themed rock band, and more like a rock opera about ninjas with about as much plot as Kill Bill Vol. 1. Songs like “Kissin’ A Samurai” almost make the whole thing feel like The Rocky Horror Ninja Show.


The music is well-written and catchy, and played with great flair. The stage show is polished and surprising, with interludes you wouldn’t expect. Like the flaming luchador Pink Tiger mincing around on stage, throwing candy and prizes to the audience. Or The Man With The Hand challenging the band to an MC battle, and turning the set into an awesome hip-hop show for two songs as his crew The Hand Clan battled Fist Of Dishonor on the mic. Or when Missy Jitsu asked Here Comes A Big Black Cloud, “Is this your probe?” about the pink vibrator she “found” on the stage, and then used it to play the next song on her guitar, holding it against the strings and letting the vibrating make the sound as she fingered chords. But the fight sequences inevitably steal the show.

Caliente and Los Diablos Guapos were the first big contender of the night, leaving their table by the pinball games and making a big entrance through the back of the audience to challenge Missy Jitsu. Members of Los Diablos Guapos and Fist Of Dishonor provided blow-by-blow commentary as Jitsu and Caliente faced each other in the squared circle, leg-dropping, suplexing and throwing each other to the mat before Jitsu’s final victory. Caliente had to be carried away on the shoulders of Los Diablos Guapos.


But the biggest fight of the night was between Jitsu and a badass kung fu master. He entered through the back of the crowd and fought Jitsu in Matrix-style bullet-time kung fu, their punches, kicks and slaps sometimes slowing down as they approached each other. Early on, Jitsu ducked under the master’s hand in slow motion, speeding up again as she flipped him flat on his back on the stage. Then she pulled off his wifebeater, sniffed it, and threw it into the audience. I was right; it truly was an awesome show.

The contest ended in a stalemate. Missy Jitsu punched, and the kung fu master kicked, and both of them came away with broken bones. “Missy Jitsu,” the master told her, “I could easily beat you with these broken toes. But I’m not taking the victory while that hand of yours is all fucked-up.” He stalked off stage, shouting, “You punch like a fucking girl!” Will she ever manage to defeat him? I suppose I’ll have to go to Fist Of Dishonor’s next show to find out.

Bus 14 had ended for the night by the time the show got out, and I had Fist Of Dishonor’s anthemic encore stuck in my head as I walked home. “Never trust a samurai, never fight fair,” the chorus goes, “never store shuriken in your underwear.”

As I walked up Hawthorne, I heard the “CHUNK CHUNK” of a large stapler behind a telephone pole up ahead. A girl with thick-rimmed glasses and an armful of concert flyers came out from behind it, and continued past me towards the river.

In a town with so many bands playing every night, I’m glad there are groups like Fist Of Dishonor to keep things interesting and unpredictable.

(All photos by Brandon Seifert)

Fist of Dishonor's feet hurt... WITH JUSTICE!

There's a bunch of ninja-themed bands in Portland. Out of all of them, Fist Of Dishonor has got to be the best.

I saw them at the Ash Street Saloon this week, and they blew me away. I knew they were a ninja-themed band that had random fight sequences during their songs, so I was prepared for them to be fun. Apparently, I wasn't prepared for them to be *good*.

The music was actually excellent, catchy and fun. The costumes rocked. The stage show was awesome. And the fight sequences were damn impressive. Missy Jitsu fought various ninjas, a Mexican wrestler named Caliente, and then got defeated by this kung fu master (I assume they'll have a rematch at their next show). Plus there was an MC battle when The Man Who Has The Hand came out and turned it into a hip-hop show along with his crew, The Hand Clan. And then Fist Of Dishonor did their own rap rebuttal.

Fist Of Dishonor are my new favorite Portland band. And that's saying a lot.

Pirates and Ninjas Will Beat You to Death

IT DOESN'T GET much more Halloween than this. Fist of Dishonor dress up as ninjas, fight audience members, and play rock songs about bad senseis and kicking ass. Sunken Chest dress up as pirates and play sea shanty punk songs. Tonight they share a stage and promise to battle each other with the song—and the sword. I got the story from Fist of Dishonor drummer Zodiac Snow Wolf. Oh, and this show is five bucks, unless you come in costume; then it's free. You know what to do.

MERCURY: Complete this sentence, "Fist of Dishonor wants to... "

ZODIAC SNOW WOLF: Fist of Dishonor wants to get drunk from the rum-saturated blood of those parasitic, algae-sucking, plank-dodging, staggering, stinky PIRATES. There are so many of them, there's virtually no one left to rob and pillage. They're cutting into our profits. They can't even rape correctly.


Tell us about Sunken Chest.

The whale fodder known as Sunken Chest will be our first target. They will probably be loud, annoying, pickpocket-ing, grab-assing, and basically trying to intimidate everyone into actually enjoying their brand of musical slop. All the while we will be plotting their end. It is important to remember when taking out a pirate... aim for the eye patch; they'll never see it coming.

Has Fist of Dishonor done any special training in anticipation of this show/fight?

We take our Rockstar-style kung fu very seriously. We are always ready! Countless one-handed pushups with our amps strapped to our backs, Drumchuk workouts, Pressure-Point-Chord-Formation drills, not to mention we've all mastered the Drunken-Rockstar technique. But these are merely our daily exercises—we will not need any special training for these foofy-tarts. Our victory shall come with great ease. It's hard to keep your balance if one of your legs is a wooden peg.

Explain for the uninitiated what Rockstar-style kung fu is all about...

Rockstar-style kung fu is the most deadly and ultimate martial arts technique known to mankind, and it looks damn cool. Previous forms of kung fu were derived from the frolicking of small woodland animals, puny insects, and pathetic birds. Rockstar-style kung fu was inspired by the movements of the most dynamic and fabulous creatures of all... rockstars!

What happens when it becomes Drunken-Rockstar technique?

There is no official documentation of Drunken-Rockstar technique. Anyone who is misfortunate enough to behold such a style won't live to see the light of tomorrow. We can't tell you any more...

Best Up-and-Coming Persona Band

Portland loves persona bands. We've got pirates (Sunken Chest and Captain Bogg & Salty), banshees (Iron Maidens) and drag queens from hell (Sissyboy). Now ninjas are rising. Fist of Dishonor (www.fistofdishonor.com), a five-piece outfit of hooded, nunchaku-toting killers, churns out metallic pop about dirty fights and randy senseis while leader Missy Jitsu attacks enemies in the audience using "Rock Star Kung Fu" (watch out for the Pete Townshend Toosh-Over-Teakettle Defense). As guitar solos rip and the bodies of fallen enemies pile up (seriously), the sonic boom of a rock show blends with the violent fun of an assassin's tango. Think Kill Bill: The Musical.