You’ve probably seen the video. It’s grainy, shaky, and recorded in a dimly lit backstage area in Tuba City, Arizona. A short, muscular guy in a black mesh shirt—the legendary Glenn Danzig—gets into a heated argument with a taller, younger dude. Danzig shoves him. The younger guy doesn’t even hesitate; he throws a single, crisp right hook that sends the Misfits frontman straight to the floor. That guy was Danny Marianinho. His band was North Side Kings.
Honestly, it’s a shame that for a huge chunk of the internet, North Side Kings are basically "the band that punched Danzig." While that moment in 2004 is etched into the Mount Rushmore of viral music fails, the band itself was a legitimate force in the Southwest hardcore scene long before that punch landed. They weren't just some random guys; they were a gritty, blue-collar outfit from Mesa, Arizona, that blended the speed of old-school punk with the crushing weight of beatdown hardcore.
If you grew up in the late 90s or early 2000s, you know this kind of music wasn't meant for the radio. It was meant for sweaty VFW halls and basement shows where the floor was perpetually sticky.
The Mesa Scene and the Birth of North Side Kings
Mesa isn't exactly the first place people think of when they talk about hardcore history. You think of New York, Boston, maybe D.C. But the Arizona desert had a chip on its shoulder. North Side Kings formed in the late 90s, emerging from a landscape where you either played pop-punk or you played something loud enough to drown out the heat.
Danny Marianinho, the band's vocalist and primary songwriter, wasn't trying to reinvent the wheel. He wanted to write songs about loyalty, betrayal, and the daily grind of being a working-class kid. The band’s sound was heavily influenced by the NYHC (New York Hardcore) titans like Agnostic Front and Madball. You can hear it in the way the riffs chug. It’s "tough guy" music, sure, but there was always a sense of genuine frustration behind the lyrics rather than just posturing.
They weren't flashy.
They weren't trendy.
They just worked.
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Throughout their run, the band went through various lineup shifts, but the core energy remained the same. They released records on labels like Thorp Records and I Scream Records, which were respectable hubs for the underground at the time. Their 2002 album, A Family Affair, is arguably where they found their footing. It’s a relentless record. It doesn't apologize for being loud, and it doesn't try to be "artistic" in a way that feels fake. It’s just pure, unadulterated aggression.
The Night That Changed Everything (And Why It Sucks)
We have to talk about the Danzig incident because it’s the elephant in the room whenever North Side Kings come up. It happened on July 3, 2004. The band was supposed to play a show with Danzig, but due to delays and a bloated ego-driven schedule, North Side Kings were told they couldn't play.
Marianinho went backstage to talk about it. He wanted to know why his band, who had driven out there and set up, was being cut. Things got heated. Danzig yelled, "Fuck you," and shoved him. Marianinho reacted.
The punch was heard 'round the world.
In a weird way, that viral moment was a curse. Suddenly, this hardworking hardcore band was a punchline or a hero, depending on who you asked. But they weren't being judged on their music anymore. People weren't talking about the breakdowns on Organized Crime (2005); they were talking about how Danzig looked like he was taking a nap on the concrete.
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The fallout was intense. Marianinho actually wrote a book about it years later called Don’t Ever Punch a Rockstar: A Collection of Hate Mail and Other Crazy Stuff. It’s a fascinating, often hilarious look at how one split-second decision can haunt you forever. He received death threats from Danzig fanboys and weird praise from people who just hated the Misfits. Through it all, the band tried to keep the focus on the music, but the shadow of the "Danzig Punch" was long.
Discography Highlights You Should Actually Listen To
If you want to understand the North Side Kings beyond the YouTube clips, you have to dig into the riffs.
- A Family Affair (2002): This is the quintessential NSK sound. It’s fast, mean, and has that classic Arizona grit.
- Organized Crime (2005): Released shortly after the infamous incident, this record feels even more confrontational. Songs like "Pure Hatred" and "Still Here" define the era.
- Suburban Sickness (2008): This was their final full-length. It showed a bit more maturity in the songwriting but didn't lose the "swinging for the fences" attitude.
Why They Still Matter to the Hardcore Community
Hardcore isn't about being the best singer or the most technical guitar player. It’s about authenticity. Even if you don't like their style of music, you can't deny that North Side Kings were authentic. They represented a specific time in the underground scene when DIY meant more than just a hashtag.
They toured in vans that were breaking down. They played to ten people in some cities and hundreds in others. They never "made it" in the traditional sense, but they earned the respect of their peers. Bands like Terror and First Blood often shared stages with them, and that lineage of heavy, grooving hardcore still carries their DNA.
The band eventually called it quits around 2010. Life happens. People get older, they get jobs, they realize that screaming into a microphone for $50 a night isn't sustainable when you have a mortgage. But the North Side Kings never "sold out." They stayed true to the Mesa hardcore sound until the very end.
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Common Misconceptions About the Band
- They were just a gimmick band. Nope. They had been around for years before the 2004 incident and had a solid discography.
- Danny Marianinho is a violent guy. If you read his writings or talk to people in the scene, he’s generally described as a stand-up guy who just didn't take being pushed around.
- They "rode the coattails" of the Danzig punch. In reality, the incident made it harder for them to book shows for a while because promoters were scared of the drama.
The Legacy of the Southwest Sound
North Side Kings helped put Arizona hardcore on the map during a time when California and the East Coast dominated the conversation. They proved that you could build a following from the ground up without the help of major labels or MTV.
Today, you can still find their music on streaming platforms, and it holds up surprisingly well. The production is raw—sometimes a bit too raw—but the energy is undeniable. It’s the kind of music that makes you want to lift weights or drive slightly over the speed limit.
There’s a certain irony in the fact that the band is remembered for a fight, considering so much of their music was about the consequences of violence and the struggle to stay on the right path. They were a band of contradictions: tough but vulnerable, aggressive but disciplined.
Actionable Steps for New Listeners
If you're just discovering them now, don't just watch the video. Do these things instead:
- Stream "Still Here" first. It’s the best entry point into their mid-career sound and showcases their ability to blend melody with a heavy groove.
- Read "Don't Ever Punch a Rockstar." Even if you aren't a fan of the music, Marianinho's account of the chaos following the Danzig incident is a masterclass in how the early internet dealt with "viral" moments.
- Look up the Phoenix hardcore scene history. Check out other Arizona bands from that era like Life in the Way or The Bled to see how North Side Kings fit into the larger puzzle of Southwestern heavy music.
- Support the members' current projects. While NSK is defunct, the members have remained active in various creative and musical endeavors. Keeping the DIY spirit alive means supporting the people, not just the old brand.
North Side Kings weren't the biggest band in the world, and they weren't the most influential. But they were real. In a music industry that often feels sanitized and manufactured, there’s something refreshing about a band that was exactly what they appeared to be: five guys from Mesa who played hard, worked hard, and didn't take any crap from anyone—not even a rock god.