Molotov

A few years ago, I was in Mexico and saw Molotov perform in a cockfighting ring in Juarez. The crowd was 90 percent male, a wild combination of metal heads and goths. Loads of leather, makeup and alienation filled the rest of crowd.

Molotov, basically a Spanish-language version of Korn with a little Limp Bizkit thrown in, matched the crowd's hostility with an onslaught of profanity, south-of-the-border swagger and caustic determination. Both crowd and band spit, cursed and reveled in the catharsis. The House of Blues should be one of the more sanitary venues the band has performed in as Molotov attempts to solidify its crossover success.

The band has been around since 1995, even earning a Grammy for best Latin rock-alternative performance with 1997's Donde Jugaran Las Ninas? But the band's most recent effort, Eternamiente, is merely a collection of four EPs done as solo efforts by each individual member, and it hasn't exactly fared well with critics on either side of the border.

Live, however, you can still expect Molotov to be a daring, multicultural experience, an uncompromising, if not exactly original, example of bilingual ferocity.