Open Source Punk Name Database

Prehensile Hemmerhoid

2011-11-09T14:16:00.001-08:00

I do believe this group would rank somewhere below the Sex Pistols in terms of raw talent, but completely lacking in any sense of fun or irony.

Ice Cold Reacharound

2011-11-09T14:15:00.000-08:00

I keep saying this blog is retired, but sometimes the events of your daily life are so perfect. Yes, someone got one of these last night, but they just didn't appreciate it at all.

An Infinity of Circlecats

2011-01-14T15:16:00.001-08:00

It's a peaceful sort of music, the kind you can listen to for hours, but still feel as if you're sitting in complete silence

Stretching Pasha

2009-11-05T15:51:00.001-08:00

You don't want to know. Trust me.

Jonesboro Overpass Exit Number Twelve

2009-09-07T15:41:00.000-07:00

Feminist dada absurdity personified. Each band member subverts gender roles by enduring hours of in the makeup chair before the show, an effect that leaves the audience confused as to the sex and actual identity of each of them. Entire songs sometimes consist of free-form stream-of-conscious poetry readings layered over very involved bass guitar riffs or group chanting to a blinding chorus of fifty tambourines shaking simultaneously. Songs rarely make coherent sense in any literal construct, but when the whole point is to be deliberately challenging in order to represent the complexities of the gender binary, that's kind of the point.

Clever Bruse

2009-09-07T15:23:00.000-07:00

Who says punk is dead? I see 12-year-old with mohawks, red plaid pants, and skull-and-crossbones T-shirts whenever I go to the mall.

The Solar Powered Chainsaw Wielding Monkey Band

2009-03-24T23:28:00.001-07:00

We're back.

Real Band Names

2009-02-04T16:08:00.000-08:00

In the absence of recent updates, please accept this amusing chart:

(Click through for larger view)

Muppet Leather

2008-12-30T17:55:00.001-08:00

The soft, fuzzy, synthetic side of hard core.

Wrectal

2008-12-16T10:03:00.000-08:00

An infinite series of destruction, each part of which has the same scatological character as the whole.

Happy Kids Puppets

2008-11-26T15:14:00.000-08:00

Delightfully hardcore, with triangles and facepaint.

Belching Urethra Aside

2008-11-18T20:03:00.000-08:00

It's a medical thing.

The Devil's Colostrum

2008-11-12T23:11:00.000-08:00

Yummy!

Nom Nom Vajayjay

2008-11-08T16:28:00.000-08:00

Post-feminist hard core. Dykes on guitar. Dykes on bass. Dykes on drums. Dykes on vocals.

Focalt

2008-10-16T07:28:00.000-07:00

Focalt's piano-driven melodies seek to produce a cross between the sentimental proficiency inherent in the romantic era of classical music with the syncopated, thoroughly upbeat fun of ragtime. An intriguing concept in the hands of a competent pianist, Focalt instead fumbles the transitions between the two widely different schools, producing an auditory train wreck in the process. The music wrought forth into an uncomprehending world makes substantial demands upon the listener, demands few are willing to yield to since the results are almost unlistenable at certain sections.

Splitting time between a grand piano and a honky-tonk upright, Focalt sits astride a specially designed stool which allows him the ability to slide dramatically back and forth between both instruments. A clever bit of stagecraft, it still doesn't redeem a bad idea or major musical incompetence. Smoke and mirrors are Focalt's trade and in that respect, at least, he doesn't disappoint.

Jaimie James

2008-10-14T09:02:00.000-07:00

The latest pop princess for the 'tween set, Jaimie James possesses good looks and absolutely no vocal range. In that regard she's just the latest in a very long line. Fortunately, computers can remedy the latter, though doing so is quite an effort and the label has to pay top dollar for the absolute best studio wizards. Though the technology has come along quite a lot in the years, sometimes James' singing voice sounds so processed that it seems she is singing underwater or in a cave.

James' voice is so bad, in fact, that she never even once risks singing live, relying instead on pre-recorded backing tracks. That phenomenon in itself isn't terribly uncommon these days, except that in most instances the backing band is highly proficient while the lead singer is not. James' musicians mime in front of the camera the same way their lead singer does, meaning that the entire performance is about as real as a three dollar bill. Or the Monkees.

Bovine Einstein

2008-10-13T16:30:00.000-07:00

The smartest cow in the herd is still just a cow.

Fear of Heights

2008-10-13T07:21:00.000-07:00

Simultaneously silly and tremendously irritating, Fear of Heights rose to minor stardom on the strength of an out-of-left field hit that somehow struck a chord with the buying public and produced a Top 40 hit. Sometimes record companies can successfully hype an album or a single enough that it attracts the attention of a few influential critics, who by granting their approval, will single-handedly ensure for the lucky group a certain amount of commercial success by default. The label put money in the hands of enough king-makers to give Fear of Heights a notable critical reception at least for its debt album.

Milking the new wave formula of jittery, jerky tempos and distinctive, albeit out of tune lead vocals they sound exactly like the Talking Heads. No one is sure whether this was a strategic move to copy David Byrne's formula or merely a decision made due to the band's inability to formulate its own unique sound. The music press has been known to fawn over certain bands, often coming across as nonsensical and downright sycophantic in its rationale for lavishing this degree of adoration. Fear of Heights remain a critic's darling, though many observers fail to understand why.

Saginaw

2008-10-10T11:02:00.000-07:00

Underground hip-hop finds many fans among hipsters and college radio station listeners, particularly due to the fact that practitioners of the genre creatively pinch samples from almost every available source. Part of the fun as a listener comes in guessing exactly where the artist or group got their beats and samples. Saginaw try to work within the tradition, but aren't particularly gifted in the art of keeping a steady beat, nor in locating interesting audio source material. Since those two elements are essential components, the group is little more than a failure.

Supremely lazy might describe Saginaw's attitude towards hip-hop. Far more interested in smoking pot and playing video games, music for them is almost an afterthought and a discipline that is put together sloppily and without much preparation. Both are a recipe for disaster and it shows in how little airplay the group receives. Feeling that fame is their right, they loudly blame everyone but themselves and gripe to anyone who is willing to listen. Few care enough to grant them even that.

Luciferous

2008-10-09T07:46:00.000-07:00

Hardcore groups have always been typified by a combination of amplified sludge, sonic assault, and throatily demonic screaming. Luciferous, to put it mildly, overdo the formula. Believing that bombastic is best and titanic is better, four singers simultaneously screech away in performance like electrocuted cats, strumming madly and utterly chaotically upon guitars amplified loud enough to cause instant hearing loss. The result sounds not unlike an explosion in a fireworks factory. The average lay person would find Luciferous substandard and mediocre, particularly if he or she were not a hardcore music fan.

However, a devoted cadre of hardcore fans show up to their shows, acknowledging that they really don't want to hear anything particularly novel. They want a kind of adrenalin consistency and cathartic opportunity and if this means that every single band sounds the same, then so be it.

Politician's Progress

2008-10-08T09:47:00.001-07:00

Barry Soniat came to public attention as a perpetual third party candidate, one whose populist rantings and proposed radical reforms were frequently discredited by the media but who, in spite of it all was beloved by an adoring fan base. Running a inevitably distant fifth place ever November, even coming in behind the Communist party's candidate for the highest office in the land, Soniat nevertheless, year in and year out collected the necessary signatures to place him on the ballot in every state in the land. Among a large slice of the electorate he was considered a bit of a bore and a consumate perennial loser, each time running a highly tasteful, but thoroughly bland campaign.

That was, of course, until after conceding in what he informed the press would be his last Presidential contest, he then decided to record an album of alternative rock standards. The first rule to be considered when recording an album of covers is: is this necessary? In the hands of a person with some degree of talent, yes. Soniat's quavery baritone is suspect enough, but the session musicians backing him play sloppily, both poorly rehearsed and not at all in synch with each other. Part of the reason why many have been hesitant to cover the alternative rock breakthroughs of the early 90's is that the personality and craft of each band in the era is so uniquely distinct and difficult to emulate competently. Slaughtering sacred cows by the bushel, Soniat manages to mangle every single song he records, turning him from a political curiosity in the media to the punchline of a huge joke. In ten years, the album he recorded might be a cult sensation, specifically due to how awful it is, but for the time being, he's an tremendously easy target of scorn and ridicule.

Pangloni

2008-10-07T10:34:00.000-07:00

The Italian composer Pangloni is a bit of an acquired taste---considered by many to be mentally unhinged. This reputation stems from the fact that he once created an entire symphony based on shattering, mutilating, or otherwise destroying a series of small glass objects in sequence. Several musicians refuse to perform these acts for fear of severely cutting themselves in the process. The public finds his radical concepts intriguing but often fail to show up for their performances. The New York Times at least bothers to review the piece for their Sunday supplement, though the comments made to describe the event are hardly encouraging nor particularly favorable.

Even more salacious and unpopular was Pangloni's series of piano etudes, each requiring a performer to file and hack away at the heavy wire of the instrument, producing an abrasive, annoying sound that sounds not unlike fingers on a chalk board. As theoretical constructs, the conductor's ideas are fascinating. As effective performances, however, they are utterly disastrous. Pagloni will always remain a curiosity, but will toil in obscurity for the remainder of his days.

Cancerous Foreskin

2008-10-06T14:55:00.001-07:00

You don't need to actually be a child, just have the mind of a child.

Mystikal

2008-10-06T08:22:00.000-07:00

A rain stick, a wooden recorder, and a set of bongos. That is all. It is enough to hold the attention of the dreadlock wearing, soy milk drinking, thrift store frequenting, Wal-Mart hating, tastefully tattooed, and generally socially conscious set. Apparently it doesn't take much to hold their attention which means that their target audience either have not much in the way of discerning taste or are too frequently intoxicated to know the difference.

Mystikal don't have scheduled gigs, so to speak. Their performances are more like happenings. Or if, say, they happen to show up at the same time on Saturday afternoons in the park to participate in drum circles. This was how the group members met, all smoking cigarettes at a break in the action, pushed over to the side of the park, whereby they struck up a conversation and realized they had enough in common to justify starting a band. Since no member of the group has a strong voice, they instead resort to wordless chanting, which is an interesting effect to hear for a time, but is fairly limited in scope due to vocal limitations and an overall lack of creativity.

Mystial are background music for people to frolic and play hacky-sack. No more. No less.

Urban Legend

2008-10-02T07:39:00.000-07:00

A Chicago-based foursome far more infamous for the off-stage exploits of its members than its musical performances. Urban Legend prove to have a skill for the sensationalist sound-byte, even the veracity of what they say is frequently called into question.

The female lead singer, for example, was nearly killed by spider bites. It seems her elaborate hairdo fostered a large nest of the insects. The bassist claims to have seen Bigfoot. The rhythm guitarist/pianist actually hails from Nigerian royalty in dire need of anonymous internet donations. The lead guitarist, a recovering Catholic, insists in interviews that the Vatican owns the world's largest collection of pornography. Lastly, the drummer sets forth a plea, imploring that as many people possible should sign a petition, else Jesus be portrayed as a homosexual in a forthcoming Hollywood film.

If Urban Legend are to make it, people must buy their albums. If the public does not, the economy will fall to shambles, Neptune will stop revolving around the sun, and computers will become infected with a horrible e-mail based virus.

Neurosis

2008-10-01T09:02:00.000-07:00

While in college, the trio known as Neurosis bonded over shared emotional problems. High-strung and nervous, the band is notoriously media-shy and simply refuses to grant interviews altogether. Shunning media attention is usually the quickest path to obscurity and poverty, but Neurosis cares little for the limelight. They'd rather not be known much at all, really, which runs in severe contrast to most rock groups, who resort to at times desperate measures in an effort to be noticed.

Neurosis make for an interesting spectacle during live performances---all so clearly uncomfortable with themselves in a public setting that they trip over words, mangle guitar solos, and often times play out of synch with each other. One of the lead singer's more pronounced nervous tics occurs when he winds the microphone around and around his neck as the course of the show progresses, making many afraid he will unintentionally, eventually strangle himself. The lead guitarist insists upon three do-overs per song, which quickly grows tedious for the audience when forced to listen to a series of false starts in sequence. The bassist's singing voice begins quavery and flat, then quickly grows inaudible, as a case of severe performance anxiety arrives and grows more pronounced with every passing minute.

The Special Olympics

2008-09-30T08:01:00.000-07:00

The world's first amputee-only band, The Special Olympics are special, if by special you mean incompetent and severely limited by their disabilities. If they're expecting to be awarded a prize just for trying, they're would do well to think again. Advertising gimmicks have been a part of performances so long as there have been musicians, but the idea that people would flock to an act so hamstrung by physical defects that they could barely play their instruments is a tall order. Playing the role of the musical freak show can only take one so far.

The Special Olympics feature a one-armed violin player, a guitarist with pronounced stiffness and a lack of dexterity in the wrist of his fretting hand, and a pianist with no fingers. The singer is recovering from paralyzed vocal chords, so his raspy whisper must be amplified considerably to be heard. Each performer is in the process of attempting to find ways around his problem, but for right now the results are quite tuneless and unfortunate.

Wilberforce

2008-09-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

Armed with a Hammond organ and a gasping delivery, Wilberforce plays competent soul/funk. Desiring to look the part, Wilberforce Daniels grows an unkempt, massive Afro, which sways from side to side, seemingly under the control of its own gravitational field during performances. As a result, Wilberforce is a curiosity to the music listening public whose peculiarities alone draw a decent sized share of attendees to live shows.

The problem arises when one takes the time to observe his live performances in some detail. Most of his song are in the same key, use the same time signature, and are little more than re-writes of his best composition. He recycles lines of melody and sonic effects, and lest the audience desert him altogether, attempts to negate his limitations by flagrantly lifting ideas from other recording artists, hoping no one will call his hand on it. If he wins any degree of success, he is a lawsuit waiting to happen. It's just a matter of whose publishing companies sues Wilberforce first.

The Hip Cats

2008-09-26T08:19:00.000-07:00

Beat poetry punctuated with bongos and a stand-up double bass reached its apex in the late 1950's and though the form never completely went away, it is found in much diminished quantity these days. Still, from time to time some brave souls will try to breathe some life into the tired old genre. The Hip Cats, as they chose to name themselves, are three socially conscious, politically active college students who simultaneously recite free-form poetry of their own composition to a jazzy tempo. That's the goal, at least.

The group/performing troupe tip their hat to their beatniks ancestors by appearing on stage decked out in berets and clad from head to toe in black. It must be noted, however, that beat poetry lives or dies on a clever combination of rhyme scheme, rhythm, and syncopation. The Hip Cats can successfully manage none of these components in tandem. Instead, they engage in lengthy political rants against almost every imaginable subject, which stretch on for minutes at a time and do nothing to hold the attention of the audience. The situation is made even worse because all three performance launch into similarly expansive militant diatribes at the same time, changing what would have been a tedious performance into an incoherent and incomprehensible one.

Falconetti

2008-09-25T09:29:00.000-07:00

Falconetti needs no introduction because he is better known for his outrageous public behavior than his performances. He is best known, of course, for personally castrating himself at the age of thirteen in order to capture an otherworldly vocal register that no male nor any female could ever reach. The procedure itself has been illegal for nearly two hundred years, but Falconetti broke the law anyway to ensure he'd have a serious chance at fame. While the effect produced is rather interesting, males attending his concerts have a tendency to cross their legs over each other, painfully contemplating what the process of emasculation must have felt like. In fact, few men can make it through an entire performance without running for the exits, since the singer's eerie ability to hit exceptionally high notes never allows anyone in the audience to forget exactly how he came upon his unique talent.

Woman, however, flock to Falconetti, impressed by his talent, and aware that engaging in a relationship with a man who lacks testicles runs no risk of being impregnated. So it is that the well-known opera singer appears at a variety of publicity functions with at least one woman, sometimes two on his arm.

Sea Shaman

2008-09-24T08:40:00.000-07:00

Conceptual performance art is, by its very nature, a bit bizarre. Those who practice it demand unique, distinct, and frequently weird sounds to compliment the equally strange goings on that occur on stage. The emphasis is not on competence or even on talent, instead the desired backing music should be obnoxious, dissonant, and grating. There is no shortage of so-called musicians eager to fill this peculiar need.

Sea Shaman certainly is up to the challenge. A five minute section in which the actors are writhing about on the floor as though inflicted with a kind of extreme motion sickness is punctuated by the sound produced when jingling car keys are scraped across cello strings. Another lengthy section of the performance which requires the cast to cluck like a chicken in sequence is backed by the amplified sound of a pair of scissors cutting through cheap canvass. The jarringly unnerving result of this effect in tandem with what's happening on stage could not be any more incongruous.

Joanie Hancock

2008-09-22T09:12:00.000-07:00

Attempting to redefine and reinvigorate the folk confessional singer-songwriter genre by adding a healthy dollop of jazz fusion, Joanie Hancock certainly gives it her best shot. It's really not her fault that the combination sounds like an auditory train wreck. The problem rests with her parsimonious record label, who can only afford to budget a few thousand dollars to cover the cost of the production. An ambitious project like this needs money, and lots of it.

Instruments in traditional jazz are often in different keys to each other, which requires that they be transposed with one another on paper and as such compatible musically. Transposing, however, requires some degree of skill and certainly demands a person who can read music. James, although an autodidact at guitar is not up to the challenge. The resulting sessions produce a full length that fails to chart but does win a cult audience of a few thousand rabid fans, who appreciate that she's tried to do something very different, even if the end result is utterly chaotic.

Capstar

2008-09-19T09:17:00.000-07:00

Often as soon as rock musicians scale to the heights of superstar status, they have little to nothing to prove anymore. After selling out arena after arena, spending several weeks in the Billboard charts, being interviewed in all the best music magazines, and winning a never-ending stream of sycophants they frequently have a tendency to indulge in what are very rightly termed "vanity projects."

Vanity projects can take many forms, but what they all have in common is that almost every one of them turn out to be awful. Here a few examples---the guitarist who has spent years developing his pentatonic, slightly derivative guitar soloing suddenly wants to release an album full of jazz standards, despite having absolutely no talent in that department. The pianist who effortlessly knocks out one lilting, perfect pop song after another switches instruments to the clavier or the harpsichord and hires an eighteen piece orchestra to back him. The vocalist who made his name in punk through his gasping, overblown vocal style now wishes to sing like Frank Sinatra, and no one has the guts to tell him his voice is totally unsuited for the genre.

Capstar is a very peculiar kind of vanity project. Three members of a successful, hard rock group have decided they wish to record a new batch of songs for a children's animated television program. The powers that be haven't given the series the green light just yet, but the group impatiently starts sessions anyway. What is being lauded by their label's promotion department as "the softer side of Capstar" should probably be called instead "some of the worst songs ever recorded". Vanity project have a way of revealing massive musical limitations. Without heavy distortion and high energy, the group aren't much of anything except dreaming big with nothing to back it up.

No Talent Required

2008-09-17T02:00:00.001-07:00

Punk

Opisthotones

2008-09-17T01:58:00.000-07:00

Originally, I wanted to spell this with a schwa, but I am too lazy to look up the code. Just imagine the e is upside down, OK?

Band Name Here

2008-09-16T08:03:00.000-07:00

Interestingly enough, Band Name Here never tours. No one except a favored few have even ever seen their faces. They don't make music videos and they never give interviews. Given all that, it's a wonder they even make a living, right?

Wrong.

Having learned early that it doesn't matter how good you are if you can't market yourself effectively, from the very beginning Band Name Here sold their music to the programming departments of major national network television stations. In exchange, their music is featured prominently in the background of many sitcoms, though they are frequently uncredited for their efforts. The group writes songs specifically to fit the action and plot of the latest episode, no matter how banal, and make no effort whatsoever to sound fresh, exciting, or edgy. Instead they blatantly copy the elements of whatever song is selling well in the Top 40 and produce an exact facsimile. This saves the television studios large sum of money, since they're not obligated to pay royalty fees to the record labels of these currently popular bands. Though those with a sharp ear can easily tell the difference between cheap imitation and the genuine article, most people are too busy watching their program to notice much of a difference.

Jason

2008-09-15T13:01:00.000-07:00

Jason is the son of a famous rock musician, a star so famous he no longer has to be referred to by his last name anymore. Everyone in the nation, if not the world is on a first name basis with him. Jason, however, is a different story.

Like the children of many famous musicians, Jason is famous by default, or at least by association, and is well known almost entirely as a result of the legacy of his father. It goes without saying that within a year Jason will have his own reality television show, which will probably feature a cameo performance or two from his famous Dad.

Sometimes the progeny of the phenomenally talented can keep pace with their trailblazing mothers or fathers, but often times they pale in comparison. Jason is clearly the latter. His voice is reed thin, his skill at the guitar is minimal, he has no prowess at any other instrument, and so despite being backed by the best session musicians and superstar producers money can buy, studio trickery and high production values alone can't disguise a bad product.

Still, despite his numerous limitations, Jason's music videos are well-received, gorgeously rendered, and tastefully presented. A handful of people who don't know any better still buy his albums and sometimes at parties someone put a song or two on, strictly for the novelty factor.

4-Tran and the Monkey Man

2008-09-13T00:40:00.001-07:00

*shrugs*

The Edict of Nantes

2008-09-11T12:12:00.000-07:00

One part Renaissance faire, one part funk band, The Edict of Nantes sprouted fully-formed from the heads of two best friends whose interest in music appreciation was as pronounced as their love of classic 70's funk.

Electrifying a large wooden recorder, a lute, and the voices of two classically trained madrigal singers, the band utilizes unique time signatures and heavy dollops of reverb to produce a truly unique sound. Unique and pleasing to the ear are not always mutually exclusively, however and the Edict of Nantes proves this beyond a shadow of a doubt. Songs like "A Passing Pasture of Power" and "Soul Boogie Buecolic" are among the group's most requested numbers.

The Prix

2008-09-09T11:10:00.001-07:00

Properly pronounced "The Pree" but no doubt designed to have a double meaning as an immature pun. For this reason alone, The Prix are beloved by seventh grade boys around the world. The aforementioned group scored a coup by marketing their concert t-shirts to major clothing outlets, immediately creating a huge trend among the 'tween set. The garmet appeals to those who would have been inclined to wear the popular "Co-Ed Naked" or "No Fear" brand in the generation immediately preceding the current one. Within three or four years they become known as vulgar accessories and spawn a variety of sarcastic jokes frequently told in hipster circles.

For the time being however, clueless school administrators and teachers miss the point altogether and the few who do catch on can't really complain all that loudly. Compared to the messages emblazened across the chests of many kids these days, the Prix shirts are pretty tame, all told. Those who wear the shirts also have the option of plausibility denial--they can always claim ignorance as their best defense.

The Discredible Hulk

2008-09-08T12:05:00.001-07:00

I don't know. I'm sure it's great.

MILFs on Ice

2008-09-08T12:04:00.000-07:00

Sometimes your mom just has to get down and chill!

My Feelings

2008-09-08T12:03:00.003-07:00

Clearly, they suck, but what better moniker for an emo kid with a guitar?

Bat Box

2008-09-08T12:03:00.001-07:00

The world has been waiting for this: goth hip-hop.

The Randolph W. Griffin Quartet

2008-09-08T08:14:00.000-07:00

Billing themselves in the hard-bop style of jazz greats like John Coltrane and Miles David, The Randolph W. Griffin Quartet certainly attempts to dress the part. Nattily dressed in identical black and white suits, a different color handkerchief in the pockets of each member, they're impressive to see, visually at least. If clothes alone made for excellence, there would be no shortage of it to go around. Yet as is often the case, excellently dressed often does not mean excellently proficient.

To begin with, there's a simple matter of the name of the group itself. The title would not seem out of place adorning the name of a nineteenth century politician or a film director of overwrought epics, but unless meant in irony, it doesn't grab the attention of the audience. Next, there's a slight problem with the solos. Jazz musicians are expected to improvise solos on the spot, both as a means of showcasing the technical chops of each player and as a way of providing the audience an opportunity to observe what each instrument sounds like in isolation. The quartet manages to sound competent when each player provides his own part alongside the other three players, each designed to fit together seamlessly in interlocking fashion. That is not the issue. The problem, instead, is that when the audience calls for a solo, every performer grows so intensely self-conscious and nervous that the end result could not be described as music. Wavering, quivering trumpet, imprecise trombone, off-beat, off-tempo drumming, squeaky, squiggly saxophone---irregardless of the instrument, the end result is identical.

Unless they can conquer their stage fright, The Randolph W. Griffin quartet will never be much of anything. But, at least they look nice.

Scraggle

2008-09-05T07:53:00.000-07:00

Hyperbole aside, punk rock at its core is little more than a bunch of angry, ugly kids in someone's basement. No group is more indicative of this sentiment than Scraggle.

Working the private party circuit, Scraggle has been featured in so many dark, dingy basements, antique houses, wine cellars, and converted warehouses that they crack jokes that, like Dracula, they will crumble into dust if they are exposed to direct sunlight. They work cheaply, for starters, and their utterly generic take on the genre means that they are loud enough to be heard, unremarkable enough to offer no offense to the audience, and inexpensive enough that they will play practically anywhere their services are required. For those who like their bands indistinguishable from the rest of the pack, kind of like interchangable parts, Scraggle is a favorite.

Scraggle plays extremely fast, sloppily, and abrasively. Since the parties they play are usually awash in alcohol and other drugs, most people are too intoxicated to know the difference. To many partygoers, punk is about attitude, and attitude supersedes skill or dexterity. This philosophy of music, however, means that every song is played in the same key, with the same time signature, and using the same three chords. Those who believe that music is meant to explore different sounds and sonic textures end up disappointed. Those who believe music is a cathartic exercise and should be the perfect soundtrack to compliment violence, petty thievery, and senseless acts of vandalism are most pleased.

Gender Neutral

2008-09-04T10:04:00.001-07:00

Following queercore to its logical conclusion, Gender Neutral are a quartet of openly bisexual Portland-based musicians. Comprised equally and deliberately of two men and two women, the music they create is frequently far less interesting than the perpetual cloud of scandal that hangs thickly around the group. To the music press and the general public by proxy, their combined output as songwriters and performers is far less important than the novel nature of the band itself. Defying the unwritten rules of Rock Band 101, they have all, at one point or another, dated each other, creating a never-ending stream of rumors, innuendo, and media-fueled speculation as to precisely who will enter into a relationship with whom next.

Gender Neutral do nothing to squelch the barrage of gossip; if anything, they encourage the hype and the frequent denouncement by conservative watchdog groups that inevitable result from it. Recognizing that their limited musical proficiency would likely never grab anyone's attention, they decided instead to reach for the easiest refuge of the minimally talented--a gimmick. This gimmick comes at the expense of their private lives, but some people will eager sacrifice their privacy for the trappings of fame. Frequent public displays of affection between members, spectacular breakups, and promises of ultimate fidelity show with exacting detail that the love life of every member is a bit like a game of relationship musical chairs. It's never known for sure whether these dramatic display of emotion and shifting allegiances are genuine or publicity stunts. Sources close to the band reveal that the line between fantasy and reality has been blurred so often for the sake of sensationalism that members themselves can no longer distinguish the difference between the two.

Gender Neutral quite cleverly describe themselves in every interview as harbingers of a new sub-genre, Androgenesis. No one is quite sure exactly what the style entails or if anyone other than the group itself can be said to adhere to the self-styled new movement. This ploy proves conclusively that just because you're wily enough to coin a neologism describing your style of music doesn't mean you have the talent or competence to back it up. However, in the world of shallow celebrity, that's a revelation that will take years to take a foothold in the public consciousness. In the meantime, people are too busy passing judgment on the internal drama and manufactured strife within the group itself to focus on much else.

Wild Side Singers

2008-09-03T09:15:00.000-07:00

Originally conceived as a Lou Reed cover band, Wild Side Singers, putting together the tracks for their debut album, work diligently to emulate the speak-sung voice of their idol in the studio. Though at least two of the four members is blessed with an excellent singing voice, the group tries every tactic in the world to desperately roughen up their vocal chords. Rodin Dowling, journeyman producer and Svengali to the band insist that each vocalist smoke two cigarettes in between vocal takes. Members are eager to oblige, but thus far, results have been heavily mixed.

No matter how many studio tricks are employed, they cannot escape the fact that Wild Side Singers, instead of emoting a kind of cocksure swagger a la Reed, instead sound pubescent, high-pitched, and halting. In frustration, producer Dowling hires session players to render an adequate facsimile of Reed's deliberately untrained timbre. The group is, however, allowed to play their own instruments to produce the backing track upon which the vocals will be layered. Their slight at not being allowed to sing a note on their own album, however, is a hard pill to choke down.

Surprisingly, their album I've Been Told That You've Been Bold scores an underground success in the independent charts. As a result they are asked to engage in a twenty city tour. The group is in a panic trying desperately to devise a way, any way, to sound authentic to the album. Failing to devise any adequate means of compensating for the huge shift in pitch that any sober person in the audience will easily recognize, they instead revert to the old standard of any anxious musician and begin using copious amounts of drugs. Ironically, drug abuse solves the problem. Who would have thought that heroin usage changes the tone of a person's voice?

VHF

2008-09-02T08:56:00.001-07:00

Beloved by its fan base of irony-drenched hipsters, VHS manages to rise above minimal competence to actually manage sell out a small club from time to time. Aware of the fact that constant touring would reveal the band's technical limitations, they play a show every three months, after obsessively promoting it in alternative newspapers, college radio station, and online zines. The novelty of a two person band utilizing a zither and two warbling, off-kilter vocalists proves irresistible to the tragically hip.

Every show, VHS adds an obscure and esoteric instrument to the mix. The audience is unaware of what it will be until they arrive for their latest gig. After going dumpster diving outside of a recording studio, the two members found an antique synthesizer which had been thrown away because it no longer functioned. Using skills culled from a year spent at technical college, the instrument was painstakingly rebuilt. Occasionally it works. Frequently it overheats.

VHF is currently in negotiations to record its first album, which will be released on a small independent label. After being pressed and released to the public, it will sell approximately 6,000 copies during its first run, quickly go out of print, and five year later be lauded in the alternative music press as a cult classic.

Magda

2008-08-22T09:01:00.000-07:00

Magda is the brainchild of one Magda Hasekonlsky of Varna, Bulgaria. Magda and erstwhile keyboardist/producer John Bollington hope to create a new wave of lo-fi chamber pop, using cheap vintage Casios. Thus far, their sounds has been met with either indifference or brief, mild praise. A one paragraph review in the local alternative press proclaimed their first show as "inoffensive, exactingly performed, but dull".

Magda's icy stare, cold demeanor, and well-deserved reputation as high-maintenance princess translate well to her musical style. Casting a foreboding presence, Magda sits rigidly, impassively, in a high backed chair while singing. Bollington's dark shadings and keyboard flourishes appear well behind the singer, making it known to the audience that the focus should be on Magda, not her accompanist. The effect produced is rather striking, though hardly memorable.

Goated

2008-08-20T17:46:00.000-07:00

Censored.

The Souls of Defeat

2008-08-20T17:45:00.000-07:00

Too clever for their own good.

Lack of Hedgehog

2008-08-20T17:44:00.001-07:00

You know they're weirdos before you even see the wigs.

The Lonerist

2008-08-20T17:43:00.001-07:00

Kid learned to play the guitar and record multiple tracks on his Mac.

Raining Stars

2008-08-20T17:41:00.000-07:00

Goth ethereal new age. Their first album would be, "Let it Reign."

Twenty Past Tomorrow

2008-08-20T17:40:00.001-07:00

Some kind of electronica-pop?

Their opener is a whiskeyed up garage band called Late: Thirty.

Sasquatchewan

2008-08-20T17:39:00.001-07:00

Canadian, obviously.

Victory Pumpkin

2008-08-20T17:38:00.000-07:00

Upbeat!

Common Trolls

2008-08-20T17:37:00.000-07:00

Yeah, the Internet is full of them.

Update

2008-08-20T17:33:00.000-07:00

No, that's not a band name. That's a lead in to an explanation of where I've been, for the twelve people who are fans of this blog.

It's been a rough month. And the thing is, we are constantly generating band names around here, because we are getting wasted a lot. But I stopped updating them because thinking of things to write about them had become a chore. Because I don't know nearly as much about music as Comrade Kevin, who will teach you an upper-level course on the history of rock and roll, if you ask him.

But these awesome band names are piling up. So I'm just going to post them without too many words of explanation. Feel free to tell me what they mean in comments. Or, as always, to suggest your own band names. Anyone with two good suggestions can become a contributor to Open Source Punk Name Database.

Faux Paus

2008-07-30T06:44:00.001-07:00

Brutal honesty is the calling card of this group as is a revealing kind of self-deprecating humor. Some might assume it's done in fun, as some kind of post-modern critique, but since they're a bit on the simple side, don't give them more credit than they're due.

A running joke revolves around the band's album and single titles, which are almost always an exercise in face value judgments---or to put it another way, what you see is exactly what you get. For example, Faux Paus' debut album was named Please Don't Judge Us Too Harshly, which was then followed six months later by Not Quite as Bad as the Last One. The group's first introduction to the charts was, appropriately enough a single called "We're Getting There, I Swear."

The latest effort reveals the frustration within the group, titled Never Going to Work Out. The lead-off single is called "Creative and Artistic Differences", backed with "Ego Problems".

The Eisenwerk Orchestra of Power

2008-07-25T06:41:00.000-07:00

Three German computer geeks set forward their sincere, yet nonetheless awkward synthesis of electronica and funk. Incorporating repetitive sampling with the booming brass sound of a live trombone and alto saxophone is no easy feat, and certainly beyond their combined limited musical talents. No one faults the group for the daring effort, but they simply aren't competent enough to pull off the endeavor.

Karl Reiss, the band's de facto leader, periodically switches back and forth from his console to strap on a fretless bass, laying forth a few mellow grooves, as the song demands. Most performances are punctuated by meaningful, but often incoherent vocalizing in English, clearly not the group's first language. What results is a kind of English/German hybrid that ironically is understood well by neither native English speakers, nor native German speakers.

Avoid at all costs.

Nickajack All-Stars

2008-07-16T07:30:00.000-07:00

Attempting to expand country music to the latte drinking, yuppie set, Nickajack All-Stars certainly have their work cut out for them. The group suffers from a lack of hick cred among the traditional country music listening set and a total dearth of interest among hipsters and young professionals. With the support of the former, the band could play at the Grand Old Opry and be adored by pickup truck driving, tobacco chewing, blue-collar workers. With the support of the later, their twangy vocals and unusual lyrics could find a kind of irony-drenched popularity. Sadly, they fail on both counts.

Hits include, "The Blue Blue Sky of my Skye Skye Vodka", "My Prius Just Died", and "Whole Foods Blues."

Instantonitis

2008-07-14T06:59:00.000-07:00

Geek rock at its finest. Each of the four members holds a phD from a prestigious Ivy League school and had every intention of ending up in a reputable profession, but found that music was a more lucrative endeavor. Their album The Hour of Not Quite Literature showcases the group's disarmingly simplistic interlocking keyboard, bass, rhythm guitar, and drum parts. Their tired take on roots rock shines through competently on exactly one song, which everyone in the audience calls for by name.

Aside from that, every song is in the one of the same three keys that guitarists find the least challenging. Despite this, the band scored an unexpected number fourteen hit in the charts with "Phonological and Lexical", a song that explores English grammatical terms. It was quickly latched onto by secondary school educators in an effort to try to seem hip while at the same time teaching high school students the beauty of adverbs, prepositions, and modifiers.

Sharpsburg Prairie Dog

2008-07-01T10:50:00.000-07:00

Beloved among aging baby boomers, Garrison Keilor, and NPR listeners, Sharpsburg Prairie Dog's take on bluegrass utilizes two warbling female vocalists who sing carefully crafted high-harmony duets, an electrified banjo, a fiddle player, and a washboard bass. Although every song sounds completely identical to the one that came before, no one seems to notice or care.

Members of an Americana, back-to-basics music movement which makes no pretenses towards originality in songcraft or performance, Sharpsburg Prairie Dog instead tries to emulate early twentieth century folk and to sound exactly like Appalachian hillbilly music. The intent may have been to revisit a long forgotten musical form, whose original practitioners have long since passed away, but instead of pushing the genre forward, the result produced is a kind of willful inertia--each song part and parcel of an endlessly repetitive nostalgia piece that everyone professes their love for out of a desire to seem trendy and on the cutting edge, but no one really cares much for in reality. In reality, it's just white noise, albeit a trendy kind of white noise.

ElectroniK Meat Babies

2008-06-30T18:22:00.000-07:00

Seamless melange of techno-grunge with a sexual edge. Volatile electronic beats, repetitive high-pitched lyrics, and revealing pleather jumpsuits form the backbone for non-stop retro fun.

Sparky's Lust Muffin

2008-06-30T00:37:00.000-07:00

The plaintive wail of the long-haul trucker singing softly along with the radio as his big rig speeds out of control down a fog-covered mountain, this is the aesthetic of Sparky's Love Muffin. Folk blues with raunchy but good natured bite.

Yosepef

2008-06-28T09:14:00.000-07:00

Billed as Slovakia's answer to Bob Dylan, this rather bold claim is, in fact, a rather presumptous and unfair comparison made mostly out of a combination of wishful thinking and bad billing. While Dylan was a genuine lyrical genius songwriter with an often biting wit, Yosepef's lilting folk and lush fingerpicking seems rather subdued by contrast. For the Western release of his first extended player, the artist was forced to learn English phonetically in a mere four days, and the result produced is a a kind of off-kilter, awkward delivery that only accentuates the strangeness of the music.

Yosepef Norageniskal's breezy, albeit heavily accented voice embraces the starry-eyed optimism and lushly ornate sound that characterizes a warm summer's day. Either that, or a soundtrack to an animated children's film from the 1960's.

With the hit singles, "Flowers in the Upside-Down Breeze", "A Cloak of Velvet Twilight", and "Embracing Your Vegetable Spirit", the album found a cult audience in Portland and Eugene, Oregon, but flopped massively in the rest of the United States, and for that matter, the rest of the English speaking world.

Joseph Pendelton's Beefeater Band featuring Morgan Graflington

2008-06-25T10:57:00.000-07:00

The world's first prog rock/polka hybrid band incorporates state-of-the-art sound effects with a dose of good old fashioned accordion-driven auditory spectacle. One could never accuse the group of aiming low, as evidenced by a multitude of sweeping concert length songs that often pass the ten minute mark. Lead gutarist Graflington is kept busy for the majority of the show, standing behind a small tower of computers that produce the sonic backdrop upon which the sprawling accordion solos, the band's trademark, are built.

With song titles like "Twenty-Third Century Centaur" and "Eleven Hundred Woodchucks Baked in a Pie", the band revels in deliberately verbose titles, having never met an adjective, nor a noun it didn't like. Album covers are produced by the band's drummer, who took a class in collage art at a community college. Said community college happens to also be the location by which the group found itself with an only slightly used and only slightly stolen timpani, which is used frequently and meant to add a symphonic sense of theatricality to the proceedings.

There's Always Room for Fail

2008-06-24T22:38:00.000-07:00

Little can be said of a band that dedicates itself to the pursuit of suck. Their target fan base is fifteen years old, male, and unable to get a date. There's Always Room for Fail, or TARfF, is loud and obnoxious.

Big Glasses for Men with Big Heads

2008-06-24T22:36:00.000-07:00

Snarky, silly, and savvy in the spirit of acts like Spin Doctors and They Might Be Giants, Big Glasses for Men with Big Heads sing quasi-meaningful ballads about topics as diverse as fishing, the age of dinosaurs, the lymphatic system, and hydrogen bonds.

Drinundel

2008-06-10T07:37:00.000-07:00

This vaguely Scandinavian sounding band caters to the Renaissance Fair attending crowd. If you're the sort of person likely to concoct a pseudonym for yourself that sounds mysteriously foreboding while at the same time exceptionally geeky, Drinundel are the group for you.

So, Lord Belvedere, and Lady Portutia, party like it's 1599, and in the process don't forget to talk loudly about your strongly-held opinions regarding The Lord of the Ring trilogy and your recent command of Middle English. If you'd have liked to live in a world of mead, chivalry, and ill-fitting tunics, then congratulations, you've found your element. If you've always wanted to wear a pompadour, ladies, then welcome to the club. If you break the ice by referring to the Red Dwarf convention you attended four years ago, you will fit in well.

Most of the women in attendance are exceptionally overweight and at least superficially Wiccan in spiritual beliefs. Men grow their hair down to shoulder length and wax poetically about their authentic period facial hair. If you like singing antiquated drinking songs, most of which are either Irish, Scottish, or English in origin, and make no pretense of concealing a puerile sense of toilet humor, this is your crowd.

Nuclear Holocaustic Bloodbath

2008-06-08T08:44:00.001-07:00

...or, in short, hardcore death metal at its most amateurish.

Four sixteen-year-olds, garbed in black and wearing Hot Topic finery, hail from a small southern town. During performances, the guitarists crank up the distortion and their $800 effects pedals to disguise a lack of authenticity or anything remotely resembling actual talent. Each song utilizes the same four power chords, though they are in the process of learning a fifth, and soon hope to incorporate this technical innovation into their songwriting canon.

Nuclear Holocaustic Bloodbath are beloved by their fan base of heavily tatted, pierced, and often drug addicted young women, several of whom became pregnant in their late teens. These unfortunate misfit groupies openly and quite fashionably shirk their parental responsibility by effectively handing their unwanted children over to long-suffering parents, in effect freeing themselves up to attend concerts and to live a life of cheerful hedonism.

Group members came up with their name one study hall, after finishing a spades tournament. It was agreed by consensus vote that the name sounded "scary enough, but not too scary".

The primary songwriters work a grueling shift at a convenience store back home, and dream of being a superstar. Each will, after high school, secure a job as an electrician or plumber's assistant.

Impa'chillin

2008-06-03T23:53:00.000-07:00

Just another chronic jam band playing interminable drum solos and long-winded guitar riffs with the occasional catchy lyric. Basic background noise when you're sober, increasingly cosmically amazing the more the listener alters his or her consciousness.

The Dune Buggies

2008-05-29T08:17:00.000-07:00

A Neil Young cover band, The Dune Buggies explore the exact point at which good intentions and minimal talent meet.

Comprised of four music geeks, TDB, as they are affectionately known by their legion of approximately twelve fans, often play college towns in Ohio somewhere in the neighborhood of around eight in the evening. Despite the fact that the only people in a smoky-dive bar at eight o'clock are either a) hard-core alcoholics or b) the girlfriends of group members, this matters little to them.

As an aside, they are routinely beaten at local Battle of the Bands competitions by a woman named Carla who plays the spoons.

Everybody Loves Wang

2008-05-22T22:54:00.000-07:00

Family-friendly and folksy, Wang plays guitar, harmonica, and kazoo, and shares the stage with children's choirs and soft-rock combos. Peter, Paul, and Mary meet Raffi, if Raffi were Chinese.

The Bee's Knees

2008-05-15T12:02:00.000-07:00

This Twenties revival band is one part Dixieland Jazz, and two parts vintage clothing. Members play period instruments: a decrepit banjo, a dusty trombone, a decaying piano long out of tune, and a scuffed up trumpet. They have to be extremely careful not to overdo it, else the nearly eighty-five year old museum pieces fall apart in front of the audience. Priding themselves on a combination of purity and minimalism, they simply can't dance the Charleston in clothing that old, else their broad-brimmed cloches or ties that resemble an egg in the stages of scrambling crumble into dust or bust seams.

Women wear floor length raccoon coats that shed like crazy and scatter the front rows with fluff. Men slick their hair back and stride with faux confidence back and forth across the length of the stage, projecting an air of ridiculous optimism common only to the period.

Malicious Poetry

2008-05-14T21:56:00.000-07:00

One of those haunting punk acts whose angry, percussive rage punctures your senses, leaving behind the empty holes of ghostly recognition that allow their subtle lyrics to blow through your spirit as if it were a pan pipe.

GlauPunk

2008-05-09T17:29:00.000-07:00

At first glance GlauPunk is a disturbing mix of french bar music and german hard core punk. At second glance they are just as disturbing. Fortunatly for listeners, that garbled mish mash of syllables and sounds is not actually any specific language, therefore they are unlikely to actually offend anyone. Well, not lyrically, anyway.

Short White People

2008-05-06T14:01:00.001-07:00

Looks like emo, sounds like ska, this is a band of contradictions. Although the drummer is only 5'4", she is a woman of color, and the rest of the band are of average or above-average height. Short white people produces great dance music with funny lyrics about topics such as road trips where nobody has a map or gas money or taking small children apple-picking.

Satan Cookies

2008-04-20T10:33:00.000-07:00

Sweet, sour, hot and tasty. This band is evil in the most chocolaty kind of way. Songs include "Dip you in Chocolate" "Oatmeal heart" and "Snickerdoodle this, B@#%$"

Tamponstry

2008-04-17T20:34:00.000-07:00

Tamponstry is angry, angsty and passionate, a quarter of the time. The rest of the time, expect artsy tunes that resemble folk music. The lead singer once locked herself in a dressing room for a week. Those in the audience that were patient were treated to what they called " the best show on estrogen"

Disappointsville

2008-04-11T23:23:00.000-07:00

Sarcastic songs, mostly about breaking up. The band's first effort, Welcome to Disappoinstsville, was a concept album that chronicled every aching step in the drummer's long, drawn-out break up with his high school girlfriend while the fourth album Population: Four Pissed-Off Guys covered more diverse territory, including separation, divorce, restricted visitation rights, and unemployment.

Crack Sloth

2008-04-08T17:51:00.000-07:00

This one was a real band--for about fifteen minutes. My friends formed it in a high school, back in the stone age. I don't think they had any musical talent, though, so the band didn't exactly go anywhere. This name was the best thing about the band, and they wanted it to live on in electronic form, so here it is. If you want to revive Crack Sloth, just let me know! They'll be thrilled.

Tepid Chukky

2008-04-03T22:08:00.000-07:00

What can you say about a band named after a bottle of hard cider that's been left open on the windowsill for two days? They're not as flat as their namesake, and less fattening. The cymbals hit you harder, though.

The Pejoratives

2008-03-29T23:33:00.000-07:00

There are plenty of words one might use to describe The Pejoratives, and all of them are rude, inconsiderate, and politically incorrect. The sax player can make his instrument wail all seven of Carlin's words you can't say on TV, and the lead singer has Tourette's. This is a band favored by middle age men who haven't quite forgotten their punk roots even though they're married with children.

Tweeker Muffins

2008-03-29T11:50:00.000-07:00

Speed metal meets Martha Stewart in this group. Songs include "Sift then Measure" and Grease my Pan".

Clogmoor(e)

2008-03-26T21:18:00.000-07:00

A recent import from Scotland, Clogmoor(e) is reminiscent of the good ol' days of punk rock. Authentic in sound and emotion. They deftly avoid any odvious musical puns and metaphors and delve into a real sound that leaves you feeling alone in the highlands.

Little Balls Upstairs

2008-03-23T11:35:00.001-07:00

Four scrappy guys playing thrash metal like robots with bad wiring. High energy performance and unintelligible lyrics. Their second album, Big Balls Downstairs, was a huge seller in Scandinavia, but the band broke up after their lead guitarist fall off a dam. His body was never recovered.

Amorous Moose

2008-03-18T12:26:00.000-07:00

You may think they're kidding, but they play like they're serious. From the hit single "Baby, I Love Your Rack" off their breakthrough album, Lovesick, to the non-stop energy of the concept album, Migration, the members of Amorous Moose work hard to hold their own among more anthropocentric rock bands. Recently, they made headlines with three upbeat, intense cuts all hitting the top 40 charts at the same time: "Like Green Moss," "Natural Salt Lick," and "Runnin' through the Taiga."

PhilSpore

2008-03-18T12:24:00.000-07:00

Nobody knows what Phil is or how to identify his spore, but the band rocks. Their music runs the gamut from lovely protest a la U2 to angry slack a la Green Day. Great fun for music lovers.

Naked in a Sock

2008-03-16T20:57:00.000-07:00

Begun as a tribute band dedicated to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Naked in a Sock quickly discovered that it was really the thrill of being naked in public that drove their sound. As a cover band they are quite good. However, their own original songs are weak and tasteless. Of course, so are their stage shows.

Unmanity

2008-03-14T00:02:00.000-07:00

Three androgens in miniskirts and ripped fishnets, Unmanity's atonal arrangments deconstruct modern music at the same time that their minimal costumes strip down stereotypical notions about gender. Both difficult and intriguing to watch, but mostly just difficult to listen to.

Laughing Larry and loquacious Lemmings

2008-03-11T20:15:00.000-07:00

Raised by aging beat poets in the back of a VW camper bus, Laughing Larry writes acid pop and marijuana melodies. Fortunately for fans this band relies on music and not a message. Fun tunes and a great stage show make Larry and the Lemmings fun for the whole family. Unfortunately for fans, the latest tour has been cancelled as the tour bus is broken down in a field in the Willamette Valley.

Technoquakers

2008-03-10T23:59:00.000-07:00

Good clean living and righteous electronic vibes: Technoquakers will blow your soul.

Ham Powder & Garlic Wafers

2008-03-09T12:34:00.000-07:00

Inspired by a recipe from an upscale cooking magazine, they practiced really hard, but they never made it to Battle of the Bands. They never even made it out of their mom's garage.

Interrupting Cow

2008-03-05T17:02:00.000-08:00

Sweet dulcet lowing. Hardly. Built around the premise that no one instrument should be more important than any other, nor should anyone person have more lead singing time than any other, Interrupting Cow in usually incoherent, and always irritating. Fortunately that particular brand of sound works well in a mash pit.

Deyolkit

2008-03-02T18:16:00.000-08:00

Hard-core angry feminist pop punk featuring such enduring tunes as "Out of My Bush!" and "I Kissed Janet Reno." The band has been around since the early 80s, maintaining a small but dynamic fan base and experiencing a surge in popularity every election year.

Box of Tapioca

2008-03-01T13:30:00.000-08:00

Box of Tapioca eliminates the middle man by producing tracks that follow all the conventions of elevator music. Low-key instrumental ditties that blend into nothingness are the hallmark of this ubiquitous, yet forgettable band.

Q*suck

2008-03-01T13:26:00.000-08:00

Hearkening back to the early days of punk rock, Q*suck keeps it real by using only purloined instruments, which are destroyed by the band as the finale of every live show and most of their studio albums. Given their method of acquiring guitars and the frequency with which they go through drum kits, fans have learned that scheduled performances hinge on whether or not the band is in jail. Most music shops hire extra security when Q*suck is in town, but none of this alters the band's utter lack of talent or the rabid devotion of their base.