Wet Heave rises as the sun goes down, an extraterrestial demolition derby plays in the sky. They're like, "totally blissed out," as lasers warm their skin.  They make their way back to their shack to float in a warm pool of Doctor Pepper as shitty roman candles explode propane tanks.   

The Bloomington wet heads, Wet Heave, barrel down a song like a drunk fat man falling forward perpetually, causing all sorts of chaos. It's dirty as shit, and all together maddening when played live. It's cave man stomp; it's broke down beats; it's chewed up punk; it's fun as hell.  They creep around a song with snarling intent, popping the chorus or hook in just when it's needed, just where it's needed. You call it gross, I call it bliss.

 

I like music that's raw and writhing, something that emotes before lyrics are present. So, there is a bias in place here. Ignore that though: this band is good even if the recordings are a little too gritty. It's part of the aesthetic of the band.  Something that a clean recording can't do. If you can get into that, then you've probably found yourself a new favorite. 

This is music for the cretins, for the knuckle draggers, for the purist rock n' roll mother fuckers. A bleeding, bubbling testament to dirt. A gross form of mad man howl that only those with ears sensitive to the cause, can hear. Give in, or get out kinda shit. Wear white, and come when I call kinda shit. You can't see me kinda shit. That being said you should give this band--and this grit in all its forms--a listen. 

I had the opportunity to record this band recently and axed em:

Jacob Gardner: What is power?

Wet Heave:  NOISE!

 

JG:  Who's the boss?

WH:  Ain't no boss damnit! (Tom Selleck)

 

JG:  Everything is contextual. Kill your idols. Who dies first?

WH:  Corene- Lux Interior or Eddie Cochran

          Alex-  Jimmy Page

          Baker-  Billy Idol

 

JG:  Whats the meaning of life?

WH:  People?

 

JG:  What other Bloomington bands do you roll with?

WH:  Katatonics, John Flannelly, Cool Ranch

 

JG:  Ebola kills off the vast majority of the population, how does your band fare in the dystopia?

WH:  We become savage overlords, then die in the thunderdome...

 

Ladies and gentlemen...  WET HEAVE