Two words to separate those who are aligned with the "Wild Blast" and those who are against it. What exactly is the Wild Blast, you ask? Well, that's not an easy answer, but if you made it this far you might be a witness yourself. Or you're at least interested.
The Wild Blast is the primal energy behind The Cincinnati Suds that gives the band an excuse to do whatever the hell they want. It's an unseen looseness, a second extreme step of the chaos theory, basic angst, total freedom, healthy contradiction, sandpaper type rawness, walking on the double-yellow line and hidden danger all at once.
"The Wild Blast giveth and taketh away," Sean Morrissey says, and the rest of the band repeat him and affirm his message in unison. From parts unknown -- well, not really, but that sounds cool -- meet The Cincinnati Suds: Adam "O.R. Bonds" Wesley, Craig "Oscar Cotton" Fox, Andy "Cold Slitha" Jody and Sean "Granddaddy" Morrissey. Named after a local softball team's failed attempt in a professional league, their enemies and allies shorten their name to "The Suds."
Let's not talk about where they really came from, one by one.
Let's just say that all you really need to know about The Suds is that they're a band. At least one member has a well-documented foot fetish. One talks in length about being drug-free and political but also non-voting. One shrugs away from every camera shot, citing that he's shy. One admits to winning $120 flipping quarters (heads or tails?) for $20 a pop. One says that they'd be just as happy five years from now as they are on a chilly November evening. One's mom is destined to read this article. (Sorry, Mom.)
It takes everything I have to just sit back and let happen what will happen. I do my best to be brave and strong and document what I can for the future of humanity to look back on and cover up. Which Sud does what is my secret. It's what I hold on to. It's my part in the titanic struggle.
Despite the uneasy, raucous and sometimes dangerous live shows, The Suds describe themselves as being raised by wolves and are "wolfish, hungry and starving" by nature. It's only after all these years, with their lineups and personnel changes, that things seem to be solidifying for the band, which is on the verge of releasing its debut CD, tentatively titled In Your Bedroom.
The disc features 15 cryptic, life-experience jams only to be best described with one word: rage. Bringing a wide array of cracked/breaking vocals, solid production and content, imagine a reality where Buddy Holly, Roy Orbison, Hank Williams, Jerry Lee and The Rolling Stones were forever young, rode skateboards and drank Miller High Life from cans painted orange and black.
This band, its CD, is stuff that some will listen to and either quickly dismiss as selective and/or domineering or determine that it's the thing they've secretively thirsted for their entire life but could never put into words. In Your Bedroom is a soundtrack for a snickered smile, a deceptive laugh and a smoke-filled room that smells like burning leaves, where everyone looks like they're suffering from a bout of pinkeye.
Still a ways from the finished product, In Your Bedroom is the undisputed soundtrack of The Suds in all their greasy, random, black and bruised glory.
Wrapping it all up, Jody takes the reigns, further confusing what just happened: "You see, if you are in The Suds or if you come to see The Suds or if you suck off a Sud, you are family. Welcome to the family!"
And as I walk to my vehicle with those words reverberating in my head, two pumpkins thrown from a darkened Northside alley by unknown persons narrowly miss me and smash on the street in front of me. I act brave and don't flinch, because deep down I know that the Wild Blast is on my side.
I say just one thing to my assailants: "Fuck you!"
THE CINCINNATI SUDS (myspace.com/cincinnatisuds) play The Comet Saturday.