Mystikal

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.

Scraggle

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

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.

Nuclear Holocaustic Bloodbath

...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.