S.L. Gomper= banjo Professor Plague= guitar Sky Fell= accordion Miasma= singing saw Buba Tuba= tuba Yura Kilenmi= fiddle H.P. Gobblecroft= washboard Malady= wash tub
For our friends and fans in Austin, please check out "That Damned Band".
Influences
the howling night wind, things which go bump in the night, spooky sounds, intoxicating potions, screams of terror & pangs of dark delight. That harmless-looking pile of blankets and toys in your closet that, when the lights go out, comes to gitcha. Also, whiskey.
Sounds Like
a bunch of drunken subhumans raising a hellafied ruckus with old timey instruments.
From deep within the confines of the city sewers, and the darkness beneath your bed, Thee Hobo Gobbellins slash and jangle their path into your skull. They weave a wickedly catchy mixture of ancient pirate curses, orcish vaudeville, and eldritch hobo semaphore. I remember well the day it all began; it was back in the summer of ‘03, on the fetid prairie of Gorgoroth, that their ebon-striped demonic boxcar was hitched to the devil’s train. And wherever they stop, strange things tend to happen: Clowns that bite! Dead things! Cultist goblins! Flying stuff!
The Hobo Gobbelins emerge from the pulsing art vortex of Oakland, Ca., the green-skinned child of punk rock, avant-garde performance art and hobo soul. Drawing on a dizzying array of influences, the band incorporates traditional sounds of Americana and the Old World with the horrors of modernity. Monsters from folklore and fiction wriggle alongside freight-train spirituals and drinking songs. The result is a disturbing haunted house for the ear, a nightmare carnival that is at turns goofy and murderous. Human audiences drink more, dance better, and writhe uncontrollably to goblin beatings- er, beats. Incidentally, audience is the goblin word for “food that screams”.
The Hobo Gobbelins are but one tendril of the meta-myconoid entity that lives in the shadows and margins just out of your range of vision. We raise our axes in salute to our allies near and far, and to the many wandering monsters who have swelled our ranks in the past. Psiliobahn Gobblegblix, our accordion-shaman comrade and founder, now leads the freak revolution in THAT DAMNED BAND and 999 EYES OF DREAM Carnival Sideshow of the Damned, in Austin, far from the human-fouled waters of the West.
We can play anywhere, on a rooftop or a desert, with or without a P.A. We’re all very nice, but will possibly make you uncomfortable. Book us for winery tours, carnivals, protests, eviction parties, game conventions, or any place with a large enough dimensional rift for us to pop through.
For Fans: To become part of the ever-growing horde of "little gobbelins" , sign up on our mailing list to get updates about the latest shows and developments with the band. Go to: littlegobbelins and sign up, easy as pie. Now you'll never be alone in the dark again! Isn't that comforting?
We also have presences at Tribe, and Facebook, where we have lively conversations and plot with our friends, fiends, and fans.
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UPDATE:
Check out photos of us in our little cave, courtesy of Marc Fiorito.
999 EYES FREAKSHOW and That Damned Band (from Austin, TX), Sansa Asylum, Esmerelda Strange, SHINE (from Boston, MA), Miss Salaneous, Secret Circus, and The Can-Cannibals Show starts at 8PM sharp and will be over by midnight One Night Only Don’t miss it! $7-10
I can hear the terrible cries eminating from the indominable fortress of iron bars from here! It sounds horrifying... the trademark bloodcurdling screams of the hobo gobbelins... GBLGBLX
His heart is a lump of coal he breathes in the dark night of the soul and the sulferous, bilous rank of rotting corpses this is the meat of his soul
A yellow field of light marks his footfalls an empty feild at night where terror palls the hearts of only slightly brave explorers his mind takes in and feeds their tiny horrors...
until beastly frightful wails echo there!
He is a spirit writhing and twisting careening through thoughtless, aged lands becomes this silent humming fetid rancid gamble and the feind stretches out his hands...
hee hee hee!
So you say you're still ready to make the mark? Combe your teethe back bear & starke? This recipe I will give you to summon him and become the terror that hides deep within
To a laying heaving bile add betraying and vaporous stinking lies into your mind to the souls anguishing hum add bones a-clacking an evil cry, and blood turned to stone...
until beastly, frightful wails echo there!
Ya dat da da dat...
There is a mark upon the stone on the shoulder of an abandoned highway the fields there are no longer ploughed for the farmer has lost her home
Venture then up to the casement of the attic where white widows make their home Quaff a nightmare prayer to Datura whisky and shatter the glass with stone...
until beastly, frightful wails echo there!
and you will see a spirit writhing and twisting careening through thoughtless, aged lands becomes this silent humming fetid rancid gamble and the feind stretches out his hands...
hee hee hee!
& if you survive the boogey's challenge your heart will burn alive inside your chest your mouth and eyes will exude sulferous billows and the meat of your soul shall be laid to rest
Your heart will be a lump of coal and into "innocent" minds you shall creep feeding tiny horrors that dwell there with your sould own fetid, rotting meat!
To everyone who has seen this already, Thank you for your support! For those who haven't, if you get the chance, watch my promo & tell me what you think. Thanks!
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