A cat purrs….it’s a rainy night….floorboards creaking…..glass breaks…..a rock n’ roll flower arrangement. Guitars, drums, the primal heartbeat, high velocity tall tales, sounds of confusion and madness, love, loss, longing, laughter
and the pure white noise adrenaline of the forbidden drink and drug fueled sex music. We live in the moment… for the moment ….infiltrating whatever musical space we wish to use to our advantage. Since labels are for canned goods, we prefer to simply call our music FREAKPOP….. genre jumping when we feel like it …….wearing our sonic influences proudly. It’s all in there somewhere…..BOWIE …THE FALL ….P.I.L. ….HAWKWIND ….CAN. The sheer psychedelic bombast of the BUTTHOLE SURFERS, the clatter & twang of THE CRAMPS, ROBYN HITCHCOCK’s surrealistic folk, the twisted humor of WEEN and THE FROGS, the moody atmospherics of THE CURE, absurdist narratives ala’ ZAPPA and BEEFHEART, the 60’s revivalist aesthetic of THE BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE and even bits of the shambolic country rock majesty of personal band favorite JON WAYNE (the band, not the dead actor). Although we’re obviously massive fans of way too much music, we’re not just a regurgitation of our collective record collections….this is a band in constant flux, constantly seeking out it’s own sounds and situations….. seeking out the ridiculous in everything…. and finding it…. obsessed with the unlikely …. fascinated with the cracks in reality, the things crawling beneath overturned rocks, the ooze of life, the peaks and valleys of the psyche that America hides in the cellar….this is a band that believes you don’t necessarily have to suffer for your art….you just have to LIVE.