all things gonzo, a scramble of sound heavy with rain, an old-crow-apple-juice fermented explosion, or meteor shit. also, zwinky funch by the striped tights, blues trash sleaze, sweaty crust-punk funk, the party mix
Prospectors are best known for hollerin', "There's gold in them thar hills!" So are we, but we're the jellyhearts and we have hearts of gold, "very fragile dispositions," and capguns. We're a couple whiskey-drunk roadtrippers who stomp out the nogood lowdown dirty punked out blues like dudes. Our songs are delivered to you by a wanky-ass guitarist, reba con queso, and her bambam metronome, mizz lorn. Spawned from rustbelt blues and cap city sludge, the jellyhearts slithered down to the ohio river valley, where we exchanged the hearts and stars with flowers for tom collinses and mustachios.
These days, we are chased by bats and exiled, speeding down the southbound freeways with a tiny acoustic global and a tambourine, singing to the wind and pouring fire in the belly. Our tunes harness the bo diddley stomp, the defiant energy of the mc5, and the raw gories sound to create a newfangled brand of reckless garage rock. As notorious noise ordinance violators, we pack every jam with shredding, swagger, gain, and enough floortom pounding to drive the blues away. Music is spirit and soul, and ours comes from the very bottom of our jellied hearts. Every song is prayer to sonny boy williamson, cap'n beefheart, art tatum, the stones, and the stooges, and also to all the kids who love to get sweaty and ain't afraid to dance!
!!!the jellyhearts' debut album LOTTA TAPE, LOTTA SOUL is out now!!!
Jelly technology curse...ha. I laugh at your curse (meaning I fixed the files. If you wanna see the video of youse twose rockin' out at ComFest, hit me up. Sound quality's horrid, though :-( ).
I hate frat rock and if I ever have the time, I'll write a thesis on what constitutes the objective merit of art; it will probably get me hanged by every college professor in the world.
Dear Jellyhearts, We are sorry we missed the show. We got stranded far away, as we didn't have any drivers licenses. Our deepest apologies, you still rock, we continue to submerge our hearts in jelly of all kinds.
since we are the female version of you guys, we will be at your show, and then you should go to ours. yikes, 2 nights in a row at bernies. we are gonna need detox or at least counciling
Prospectors are best known for hollerin', "There's gold in them thar hills!" So are we, but we're the jellyhearts and we have hearts of gold, "very fragile dispositions," and capguns. We're a couple whiskey-drunk roadtrippers who stomp out the nogood lowdown dirty punked out blues like dudes. Our songs are delivered to you by a wanky-ass guitarist, reba con queso, and her bambam metronome, mizz lorn. Spawned from rustbelt blues and cap city sludge, the jellyhearts slithered down to the ohio river valley, where we exchanged the hearts and stars with flowers for tom collinses and mustachios.
These days, we are chased by bats and exiled, speeding down the southbound freeways with a tiny acoustic global and a tambourine, singing to the wind and pouring fire in the belly. Our tunes harness the bo diddley stomp, the defiant energy of the mc5, and the raw gories sound to create a newfangled brand of reckless garage rock. As notorious noise ordinance violators, we pack every jam with shredding, swagger, gain, and enough floortom pounding to drive the blues away. Music is spirit and soul, and ours comes from the very bottom of our jellied hearts. Every song is prayer to sonny boy williamson, cap'n beefheart, art tatum, the stones, and the stooges, and also to all the kids who love to get sweaty and ain't afraid to dance!
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