Years ago, when Fishbone T-shirts, handbags, notebooks and other paraphernalia first started to show up in Prague, I was happily shocked. I wanted to believe that Fishbone had finally become a band known around the globe for rocking their funk all these years.

In the early 1980s, Fishbone were the darlings of L.A. funk-punk alongside their friends, the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Both bands sprang up from the hard sidestreets of Hollywood, though Fishbone was and still is more like a family — the original members grew up in the same apartment complex, which was called the Fishbowl.

By the mid-'80s both bands were big. But the Chili Peppers ultimately made funk-punk their sound, and became rich and famous.

Fishbone didn't have the same luck, though the band is still around with original members Angelo Moore and Norwood Fisher. And the musicians are still outrageous onstage, like a fireworks display set off indoors.

But the people wearing Fishbone clothes in Prague didn't seem like typical fans of a band with a sound that has been described as "punk-rock-hip--pop-spunk-splatter-platter served up with healthy portions of kneecaps and elbows."

It turned out they weren't. Fishbone fashion is part of a multimillion-euro clothing and accessories company selling everything from T-shirts, sweatshirts, socks, shorts and tennis shoes to notebooks, watches, skateboards and even scooters — with a perfectly legal right to the Fishbone name.

Burning up

Fishbone the band has been together for 28 years, and started using its distinctive logo in 1983, when the group released its first EP. Fishbone the clothing line is a label of New Yorker S.H.K. Jeans GmbH, a Germany-based company that opened its first store in 1971 and introduced Fishbone street- and sportswear with a similar logo in 1992.

Just coincidence? A New Yorker spokesman declined to comment for this story, citing "the holiday season and brisk business in response to our World Cup tournament."

But there's not much doubt in the minds of band members still struggling to survive. Without the support of a major record label, and its commensurate level of legal resources, there's no way they can challenge Fishbone fashion. Their tours in Europe are underfinanced and sporadic, and their CDs lack good distribution.

All of which makes lead singer Angelo Moore very unhappy.

"Just to let you know how the Indians were ripped off from America, Fishbone was ripped off from their original name and logo by a major company called Fishbone, and they are all over Prague and Russia and everything, and basically they are the imposters and we are the real Fishbone," he fumes.

"It's just crazy on tour," he continues. "Someone even came up to me with some Fishbone shoes ... and someone gave me a Fishbone watch and, of course, T-shirts."

Band members let everybody know what they thought of Fishbone products.

"I remember the first time we came [to Europe] and we saw that, we burned the shirt on stage, and we made it known that that is not the real Fishbone — we are the real Fishbone," Moore declares. "So whoever is buying that Fishbone stuff that isn't from us, they're buying a lie. If you don't get it at a Fishbone show, it ain't the real thing."

Getting down

Since the death of Jimi Hendrix, black musicians have struggled in the big-money world of American rock 'n' roll. They dominate some genres — R 'n' B, soul, hip-hop. But outside of those genres, remarkable bands and musicians who gave it their best shot, like Shuggy Otis in the '70s or Living Colour in the '80s, remain just footnotes in rock history.

Fishbone, with its mix of so many atypical musical elements, seems to have fallen between these same cracks on the road to fame. Perhaps as a result, over the years the band has become more cynical, politically and philosophically, and more outrageous, both on and off the stage.

At Fishbone's last concert in Prague in the summer of 2003, Norwood Fisher, the band's mystical, dreadlocked bass player, wore an old "Christ" cloak with nothing underneath. Anyone up close to the Roxy's stage could get a firsthand look at his swinging, noble private zone.

Offstage, Moore's poetic fury sums up the band's feelings.

"Here is the reality of Fishbone's surroundings: We're living a lifestyle of the famous but not rich; this road to stardom is one big grand illusion," he says. "Lots of pictures and autograph-signing, and the bank account is constantly declining. I wonder when this no-luck of mine will ever change, ain't rakin' in no moolah, just scratchin' chicken change.

"Gray hair is seeing its days, weak knees can take a bow — on the outside I'm smiling, but on the inside I'm crying now. All my rich and famous buddies, massive money stacked, while I'm still driving in a bucket, living in a shack.

"They call us over to visit. They roll in the finest rented transportation — traveling abroad and back all across the stolen nation. Making concert appearances and TV shows and flossing, and at the end of our tour we're home with hardly nothing. Jaws drop to the floor when I tell them these true tales, and it truly takes all the wind out of my sails."

Nevertheless, the band is constantly on the road, still working hard. You can join in the anger and fun at Branická louka Friday night. Just don't bring any of that other Fishbone's paraphernalia in the hopes of getting it signed.