D Generation took the stage fashionably late for their midnight show at Coney Island High in downtown NYC on Friday, June 27, 1997. When they tore into the opening number, "No Way Out," I looked at my watch and it read 1:48 a.m. No matter, it was a good, head-twisting opener and the wave of bodies in the sardine can otherwise know as Coney Island seemed to respond well to it.

Was it crowded on Friday night? Let’s just say if a fire broke out, we would have all been toast. The last time I saw D Gen was in the larger environs of Irving Plaza, a little under a year ago, and I think it’s safe to say that the band thrives under these packed, sweaty situations. Behind a sea of people, Jesse Malin’s torso juts out from the crowd as he’s suspended on someone’s shoulders. When he cold-cocks the microphone stand, it’s as if he’s telling you that you’re next in line if you don’t watch your step.

The band’s stage persona doesn’t seem to have changed much in the past year. Between angst-ridden verses, Malin still paces the stage like a man with all of Travis Bickle’s rage and fury. (His hair extensions appear to have grown longer, however, and at this point he reminds me a little of the Statue of Liberty.) Bassist Howie Pyro still looks cool, his head jerking to-and-fro in epileptic seizures. Guitarists Richie Bacchus and Danny Sage do a good teeth-rattling job of pumping out a wall of sound on top of Michael Wildwood’s steady pulse of percussion.

Shortly after the third number, "She Stands There," D Generation ran into some technical difficulties as Richie Bacchus’s guitar decided to stop working. In my book, the way a band functions through a situation like this clearly shows the stuff they’re made of. D Gen handled it like consummate pros, breaking into a reggae skiffle as Malin apprised us of his less than glowing opinion of our city’s mayor ("Rudolph, you ain’t no fucking reindeer").

D Generation was soon back on track and I don’t think anyone missed a beat. (Luminaries in attendance, by the way, included Joey and Dee Dee Ramone.) The band continued the set, mixing tunes from their Columbia release No Lunch with a smattering of new numbers, one of which was a ballad that I believe was called "You Can’t Stay with Me."

The air conditioning in the club appeared to be working but it just couldn’t compete with the heat generated by the herd of bodies stuffed into the room like pork into a sausage. By mid-set, a shirtless Malin looked good, encased in a healthy sheen of perspiration, although a couple of days with some Ultra Slim-Fast wouldn’t have hurt much either.

I stopped looking at my watch after that first glance (clearly a testament to the quality of D Generation’s set), but my guess is that by the time the band wrapped up, Tom Snyder was way done laughing at his own jokes and probably in bed somewhere in LA.

For an encore, D Gen chose Neil Young’s "Don’t Be Denied," taken from one of Neil’s darkest albums Tonight’s the Night. Malin did a formidable job on the number, delivering Young’s lyrics with true conviction and fury. It was a nice little surprise to wrap up a solid evening’s performance. D Generation, it seems, has managed to hold the crown, for one more year at least, as the reigning king of pop rock in New York City.