It’s 1985.

The Sunset Strip is still a religion, and every kid with a can of Aqua Net thinks they’re destined for MTV.

Out of the chaos comes King Kobra’s debut “Ready to Strike”.

Led by guitarists David Michael-Philips & Mick Sweda.

David Michael‑Philips briefly joined Keel before being recruited by drummer Carmine Appice for King Kobra in 1984. Mick Sweda had been doing East Coast cover/punk stuff, moved to L.A., and was also tapped by Appice for Kobra.

After Kobra he co-founded Bulletboys with Marq Torien.

Johnny Rod held the low end here and after King Kobra he joined W.A.S.P., appearing on “Inside the Electric Circus”, “Live…in the Raw”, “The Headless Children”.

The season veteran here was drummer Carmine Appice, coming from Vanilla Fudge, Rod Stewart, Ozzy Osborne and the architect behind King Kobra. Post-Kobra he went on to other projects (including Blue Murder with John Sykes).

And a singer named Mark Free, the kind of vocalist who could level you with a single held note.

And now, that voice is gone. Marcie Free (Mark transitioned in the 90s), passed away. No reasons given. Maybe there doesn’t need to be one. Sometimes the world just loses a frequency.

Listen to “Ready to Strike” today and tell me you don’t feel it. That impossible range. That clean, surgical tone cutting through Spencer Proffer’s slightly overcompressed mix.

“Ready To Strike”

Co-written by the band, Proffer, and the mysterious H. Banger, a name that appears on six tracks and nowhere else. Ever. Believed to be a collective pseudonym representing members of Kick Axe, whose fingerprints are all over the Pasha Records era.

“Up here on this tightrope / Tryin’ not to fall / The spotlight is on me tonight / I want to have it all.”

It’s a metaphor for the rock life, hunger, exposure, the weight of wanting everything. The guitars duel, the drums explode, and Free prowls through the mix like a panther who’s just discovered the cage door’s open.

“Hunger”

Written by Kick Axe and Proffer.

“When I see what I want, I’m gonna take it / If it’s against some law, you can bet I’m gonna break it.”

The tempo drops, the groove thickens. Free’s voice walks the line between desire and desperation, the sound of ambition burning too hot to contain.

“Shadow Rider”

“Midnight is my time / I’m the Shadow Rider / I come from the other side.”

It’s the nocturnal anthem, the loner archetype on a chrome horse, riding between light and dark.

“I’ll stand beside you and take the blows” isn’t just a lyric; it’s a code of honor. The song rumbles like an engine idling in a back alley.

“Shake Up”

“You grew up on rock ’n’ roll / So why deny it now?”

This is the youth call, the defiant reminder that rock isn’t fashion, it’s DNA. It’s a fist-in-the-air track, bright and rallying. The message is simple: don’t outgrow what saved you.

“Attention”

“You just want attention, baby, that’s all.”

A riff built for smoke machines and strip lights. But listen closer, there’s bite in Free’s delivery. Sarcasm, empathy, truth. It’s a mirror held up to a scene that fed on validation. Every artist in L.A. wanted the same thing: to be seen, to be loved, to matter.

“Breakin’ Out”

“I’m breakin’ out, gonna make my stand…”

The liberation song, before anyone knew how literal it would become. Appice’s drums hit like battering rams. Free’s vocal swings from defiance to freedom, warrior to wounded bird.

“Tough Guys”

“Tough guys never cry…”

The façade song. What sounds like macho posturing becomes, in Free’s phrasing, heartbreak. The mask slips. The world tells men not to feel; what does it cost to fake it.

“Dancing With Desire”

“I’m losing control tonight…”

The silk thread between danger and devotion. The groove is sleek, the vocal magnetic. Desire becomes identity, the moment you stop pretending and start existing.

“Second Thoughts”

“I had it all planned, then I changed my mind…”

It’s the sound of someone questioning the script.

Behind the arena sheen, it’s a confession: the fear of choosing the wrong version of yourself. Free sings like someone tearing up a contract with fate.

“Piece of the Rock”

“We all want a piece of the rock…”

The closer. It’s ambition reimagined as reckoning. You can hear the disillusionment under the triumph, the realization that success and happiness rarely share the same stage. It ends not in celebration, but transcendence.

King Kobra never quite made it to the top. The songs were there, the image marketable, the talent undeniable. But the breaks never came. One more album, and the curtain fell.

Yet “Ready to Strike” remains, a document of promise, power, and prophecy. The record of a voice that burned too bright to be ordinary.

Mark Free sang like someone fighting for air. Marcie Free lived like someone who finally found it.

RIP.