I’m gonna just post this once every couple months so you guys don’t forget. thx.
I was flipping through my 45’s the other day and came across a band that I miss a whole lot, Woah Hunx. The LA act broke up almost four years ago, and every time I throw on this song, “Smells Like Shit,” I remember how incredibly rad they were.
Infusing gritty, sloppy punk with some of the riffs and tones from the garage rock end of things, Woah Hunx delivered some of the wilder, more frenetic sets that I saw from any local acts in my first few years living back in Los Angeles. The two times I caught them, I remember being impressed by both their energy, and their ability to get people, most of whom had probably never seen them before, dancing and moving immediately.
I also remember encountering their guitar player, who went by the handle, “Dirty” Preston, several times around town at shows and he was always super nice to me. Thinking about it now, I haven’t seen him in a bit either, however, I distinctly remember the last time I ran into him because it was in the bathroom of the The Echo and we both drunkenly sang “Stranger’s In The Night,” to each other as we were peeing. Good times.
More information on Woah Hunx can be found at their, now defunct, Facebook. Digital copies of their music can be picked up via their Bandcamp. It also looks like a single copy of the band’s one and only 7”, a split with Cowabunga Babes, is up for grabs on Discogs, get it while you can.
Photo courtesy of Preston Olson, who captured the moment during the Tenacious D tribute when Kyle Gass, Jack Black and I were all clinically dead for ten seconds and our spirits hovered over our bodies like IDIOTS. (at Castro Theater)
Buy this 7 inch “Witch Tits” of a band I played in with Jimmy Vincent and Delano Duran called Pope Anything here http://volarrecords.bigcartel.com/product/pope-anything-witch-tits-7-ep and check out the song “man dude” here on this tumblrs
My band Pope Anything w/ preston olson and delano duran. this song is ‘man dude’
Nothing ominous AT ALL about this bent up, rusted jungle gym with 2 black crows chilling on it. Maybe since today is my 37th birthday it is a metaphor for my now passed on youth. Or maybe its just a tight spot to listen to death metal on a boombox and rip some Coors banquet beer tall cans. Either way, happy birthday to me.