The Krank Squad - Less Talk, More Krank - 14-song CD
Produced by Peet Golan; Recorded at AREA51, Waltham, MA; Mastered by Ken Cmar
What a pain in the ass it was to extract this CD from its DVD-like type container. Geez. So we’ve got some different kind of bent stuff draining from this fearsome foursome. Love the drummer and - get this - the bass player (occasionally) plays a big ol’ stand-up bass - you know one of those things that looks like a giant violin; bet he wishes he chose flute in high school when he’s got to carry that big hunk of krappe around (knock it off, L.A.). O.K., so the singer does a little rap deal on “Forklift Driver.” Gosh, that’s an R&R subject that’s been sorely overlooked. Other rappy, rocky, twisted toonz of note: “Can’t Stop The Tango,” “Cops On Crutches,” “Krank My Torpeedo,” “The Outhouse,” and “She Kranks Me.” Not bad; not bad at all.
- L.A. Joe - Boston SoundCheck 12.01
(a note front the krank: "It's amazing that people who randomly review our cd just don't get that the band has three basses".)

UGLY BASS PLAYER.COM

Hard to beat what we said about that chick we had in here last week, but check this one out: Not one, not two, but three bass players. Add one extremely stinky drummer and you get Kranksquad, a veritable ugly farking orchestra.

Now, we all know that drummers beat things for a living-- making them barely one step above boxers as far as intellect is concerned-- and bass players...well... you know... so what we can't figure out is, without a single upper primate in the band, how these ugly bastards even get themselves to their shows, tie their shoes, etc. They must have one hell of a manager. A manager who speaks Gorilla.

We tried to call to confirm this theory, but all we got was bleeding ears.

No, seriously, these guys are making some seriously cool bass-heavy music. You should go look at their site: www.kranksquad.com

Welcome to the Archive, Kranksquad!

OH yeah.... Check out the write up in Redneck Stye!!!

Hard t'beat whut we said about thet chick we had in hyar last week, but check this hyar one out: Not one, not two, but three bass players. Add one extremely stinky drummer an' yo' git Kranksquad, a vahitable homely farkin' o'chestra.

Now, we all knows thet drummers beat thin's fo' a livin'-- makin' them barely one step above boxers as far as intelleck is corncerned-- an' bass players...fine... yo' know... so whut we kin't figger out is, wifout a sin'le upper primate in th' ban', how these homely bastards even git themselves t'their shows, tie their shoes, etc. They muss haf one hell of a manager. A manager who speaks Go'illa.

We tried t'call t'confirm this hyar theo'y, but all we got was bleedin' ears.

No, seriously, these guys is makin' some seriously right fine bass-heavy moosic. Yo' sh'd hoof it look at their site: www.kranksquad, cuss it all t' tarnation.com

Welcome t'th' Archive, Kranksquad! Fry

SOME GUY NAMED PHUC has been writing about DMK (Stalker or not? You be the Judge.)
1/05/2002 6:18 pm, from the writings of ZUG.com

The second time, there were two "men" talking behind me. The were discussing elvish grammar, the length of hobbit foot hair, and which orc would give a better rim job.

I asked them once politely to please be quiet. They kept talking. I asked them again very rudely to shut the Frost up. They kept talking.

Then DMK very sweetly and politely asked them if there was any reason why they felt the need to talk.

They shut up. When we got up to leave, I observed that one of the guys looked like a 6' tall linebacker. Fortunately, DMK looks like a 6'2" cannibal.

The lesson: Always bring a large, scary friend to a movie where you're afraid that the dateless wonder brigade will interfere with your enjoyment of what's on the screen.