If you were hanging around the Lower East Side in the mid-1980s, you smelled it before you heard it. Grease. Exhaust. Stale beer. That was the natural habitat of Circus of Power, a band that looked less like a group of musicians and more like a collection of guys who might take your wallet—or at least fix your bike for a steep price. They weren't the "hair metal" guys from the Sunset Strip. No spandex. No hairspray. Just straight-up, filthy blues-rock that felt like a punch to the gut.
The late 80s were a weird time for rock. On one hand, you had the polished, neon-soaked glam of Poison. On the other, the burgeoning thrash scene. Circus of Power sat right in the middle of the grime, bridge-and-tunnel grit that defined New York City before it got scrubbed clean by developers. Led by the charismatic, heavily tattooed Alex Mitchell, they were the bridge between the sleaze of the Stooges and the heavy groove of Black Sabbath.
They signed to RCA and released their self-titled debut in 1988. It was a monster. Songs like "Motor" and "Call of the Wild" weren't just tracks; they were mission statements for a subculture of bikers and outcasts who found the LA scene too "pretty."
The Gritty Philosophy of the Circus of Power Sound
What set them apart? Honestly, it was the lack of pretension. While other bands were busy worrying about their eyeliner, Mitchell and guitarists Ricky Beck Mahler and Gary Sunshine were focused on the riff. It was heavy. It was swampy. Most people don't realize how much they influenced the "stoner rock" and "sludge" movements that came later. You can hear echoes of their DNA in bands like Monster Magnet or even early Soundgarden.
They were the "East Coast" answer to Guns N' Roses, but without the power ballads. Circus of Power didn't do "November Rain." They did "Machine," a song that sounds like it was recorded in a garage with the door closed and the engine running.
The production on that first record, handled by Daniel Rey (who worked with the Ramones) and The Butcher Brothers, captured a specific kind of claustrophobia. It was loud. It was crowded. You could hear the sweat.
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Breaking Down the Discography
Their sophomore effort, Vices (1990), tried to polish things up just a tiny bit, but the core was still rotten in the best way possible. By the time Magic & Madness hit in 1993 via Columbia Records, the musical landscape was shifting. Grunge had arrived. Ironically, Circus of Power was "grunge" before the term was a marketing tool, but because they had the biker aesthetic instead of the flannel shirts, they got lumped in with the outgoing hard rock crowd.
Magic & Madness is actually a bit of a lost masterpiece. "Working for the Diehard" is a blue-collar anthem that hits harder than almost anything coming out of Seattle at the time. It’s got soul. It’s got Ian Astbury from The Cult contributing backing vocals on some tracks. It showed a band that was evolving into something more psychedelic and bluesy, but the industry was moving too fast to notice.
The band eventually folded in the mid-90s, victims of the great "alternative" purge. But they didn't stay dead.
The 2017 Resurrection and Beyond
Fast forward to 2017. Out of nowhere, Alex Mitchell revived the name for Four. It wasn't just a nostalgia trip. The record, released on Noize in the Attic, featured Billy Tsounis on guitar and a fresh lineup that managed to recapture that old swagger without sounding like a tribute act.
It’s rare for a band to go away for twenty years and come back with the same level of menace. Usually, they get soft. They get "refined." Mitchell didn't. His voice still sounds like he’s been eating gravel and washing it down with cheap bourbon.
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Why They Never "Made It" Big
You’ve gotta wonder why they didn't reach the heights of Motley Crue or Aerosmith. Part of it was timing. Part of it was the image. In 1988, the "biker" thing was intimidating. It wasn't the sanitized Sons of Anarchy version we see on TV now. These guys were the real deal, and that made radio programmers a little nervous. They were too heavy for the pop fans and too rock-n-roll for the metalheads.
They occupied a space that was purely their own. If you weren't part of that world, you just didn't get it. And frankly, they didn't seem to care if you did or not.
Essential Listening for the Uninitiated
If you're just discovering them, don't start with the deep cuts. Go straight for the throat.
- "Motor": This is the quintessential Circus of Power song. If the opening riff doesn't make you want to buy a leather jacket and a 1974 Shovelhead, nothing will.
- "Mama Tequila": From the Vices era. It’s got a swing to it that most heavy bands lack.
- "Circle of Fools": A darker, more brooding track that shows their range.
- "Fast and Loud": Does exactly what it says on the tin. No frills.
The reality is that Circus of Power represents a specific moment in New York history. They represent the pre-Giuliani era, where St. Marks Place was still dangerous and the clubs felt like they might collapse at any second. They were the house band for a city that was vibrating with energy and filth.
The Cultural Impact
We see their influence everywhere now, even if people don't name-drop them. The whole "outlaw rock" vibe that became popular in the 2000s owes a huge debt to Mitchell and his crew. They proved you could be heavy without being "Satanic" and tough without being a caricature.
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They also had a knack for visuals. Their music videos weren't about girls in bikinis; they were about the road, the bike, and the brotherhood. It was authentic.
What to Do if You Want to Dive Deeper
Don't just stream the hits. If you really want to understand the band, you have to go looking for the bootlegs and the live stories.
- Hunt for the 1990 live recordings. The band was at its peak during the Vices tour. The live energy was far more chaotic than the studio albums suggest.
- Check out Alex Mitchell's other projects. He’s been involved in stuff like Fat Nancy, which carries some of that same DNA but with a different flavor.
- Look at the photography of the era. Search for old photos of the band at The Ritz or L'Amour. The visual context is half the battle with this band.
- Support the new stuff. Mitchell is still active. Follow the official social media channels because he’s one of the few frontmen from that era who still has his finger on the pulse of what makes rock music dangerous.
Rock and roll isn't supposed to be safe. It isn't supposed to be polite. Circus of Power reminded us of that when everyone else was busy putting on hairspray. They were the grease under the fingernails of the music industry, and thirty-odd years later, that stain still won't come out.
For those looking to build a playlist that captures this specific vibe, mix them in with early Danzig, Electric era The Cult, and Zodiac Mindwarp. It creates a soundscape of pure, unadulterated grit. Go find a copy of that first album on vinyl. Put it on. Turn it up until the neighbors complain. Then turn it up one more notch. That’s how you’re supposed to hear it.