The Dollyrots

Bad Obsessions

It's So Easy

"I don't pray in churches, baby" - Iggy Pop

"Rock and Roll tried to ruin my life." - Supagroup

It all started because Tim Catz wanted to bang Sticky. Tim is the former Roadsaw magnate who recently emigrated to Los Angles to become Tinseltown's latest Bukowski in training. But at the time, he was just another sleazy rock journalist thinking with his dick. We were sitting around the 'Weekly Dig' offices, pitching story ideas, when he came up with the notion that we ought to write up some features on local rock artists. He would, of course, take on Sticky, the statuesque, raven-haired rock goddess that supplies lucky Boston bands with hallucinatory sex monster gig posters. Going with the ruse, I volunteered to interview Ian Adams, Rock City Crimewave's psychotronic front fiend and noted flyer and t-shirt man. The interview was conducted with typical smarm :

"Well, we were all in the same church group, it was a beautiful thing. See, my dad, he started the first snake handler church in Massachusetts. He got bit by a copperhead snake in the backyard while gardening..."

So, your dad is a snake handler?

"No, my dad is a Presbyterian minister. But I was in this bar once, and I was really loaded, and I started the snake handler myth, and I went into detail about, like, the folding chairs, and I was going on and on, and I couldn't let myself off the hook, and it was Rob from Quintaine Americana's girlfriend, and...."

At some point, we eventually got around to discussing the inspiration for his rather cryptic art.

Hey, my editor said not to mention the Masons.

"Ok."

Well, why did he say that?

"Because whenever we're at a party together, Joe and I get to talking about how, when I was young, I visited a Masonic temple. My dad was a grand knight in the Knights of Columbus and he took us to an Ecumenical pancake breakfast one morning. My sister and I were bored, so we snuck into the temple. There were things that I saw there that related to events that transpired later in my life. And I don't think he can handle it."

Wild. Does Masonic imagery crop up in your artwork?

"Absolutely. The Rock City Crimewave logo is a good example. It's pretty much all Masonic symbolism. The skull and crossbones is from the Knights Templar, and in a lot of Masonic rites the skull is there to represent secrecy, but also in a deeper sense, it symbolizes rebirth. So it comes from this encoded myth, where one of the Knights Templar supposedly had sex with a corpse, and came back to the body to find the head of a baby between the crossbones of the legs. And it's supposed to represent some ancient cult's belief in resurrection..."

That's deeper than I thought, man. I figured you just jammed as many tattoo cliches as possible in one logo.

"Well, the whole thing is structured like that. Even the angles of the thing are symbolic. It's Hermetic, in fact."

Is any of it so secret you can't even talk about it?

"Yes. I'm letting all this stuff out slowly, so that I don't blow too many minds at once."

I slapped a pseudo-provocative title on the thing (Fuck Art, Let's Fuck: Ian Adams on the aesthetics of lesbians with machine guns), and everybody was happy. Until the week after the piece ran, when the following letter to the editor appeared in the next issue:

"To those parties affiliated:

I have been reading your publication for some time now and I find it quite enjoyable. However, I have noticed a trend in, shall we say, "esoteric hearsay." In this weeks issue, the article "Fuck art;Let's fuck" caught and held my undivided attention. Clever title aside, "Sleazegrinder" and Joe of the Weekly Dig, and artist musician Ian Adams should be forewarned. There will be - and always have been - those that oppose your views and will try to silence you.

The organization, of which you speak, Mr Adams, go far deeper that even you may realize, regardless of your father's involvement. I am pleased to note that you are knowledgeable when it comes to this particular subject matter. Well informed, you are not. The Grand Order of Masons, the Knights Templar, the Knights of Columbus and any other ancient society of this nature may not appreciate you speaking freely in regards to insider information. Perhaps when Joe told "Sleazegrinder" not to mention the Masons, the interviewer should not have pressed the topic. The question was even raised as to whether some of this information was "so secret you can't even talk about it." Perhaps, Mr Adams, you should have stated your assent to this idea much sooner during the interview and left your audience to wonder in ignorance.

I am aware of at least two members of the Weekly Dig staff being involved with said organizations. Being something of a researcher, I know their status, their affiliations, and even their particular areas of expertise. However, I am one of impeccable decorum and will not reveal any connections or identities here in this correspondence. Nor will this information ever be used for malevolent purposes. Nevertheless, because of these particular affiliations, I find it necessary to suggest that no further mention be made of this topic. My Organization does not mind the offhand arcane reference, but we would greatly appreciate the same level of decorum from you that we have shown those on your staff involved with us.
Please understand that this letter is in no way to be taken as a threat to yourself or anyone affiliated with your publication. One of your staff, actually, has proven themselves highly valuable to our efforts. Because of this, I am writing merely to caution you with the age-old adage: "Loose lips sink ships."

Respectfully yours in esoteric pursuits, Illiel "

A couple of days later, I'm at work, when I spot my arch nemesis, Norm. I won't get into the specifics of why I don't like the guy; let's just say that he's a jackass on many levels. He also happens to be 33rd degree Mason. He's not nearly hip enough to read the Dig, so I knew it wasn't him that actually wrote the letter, but it was, after all, one of his people. So I harassed him about it. Two weeks before, Norm and I were standing in the middle of a Mercedes dealership parking lot, waiting for a ride. It was so hot, the asphalt was bubbling at our feet. To distract myself from the nagging thought that I was going to die from heat exhaustion waiting for the stupid van, I started up a conversation with him, with typically disastrous results. I was talking about how the Masons had killed Kennedy, a half-baked theory I picked up from the book "Apocalypse Culture" when I was a teenager. That's when he causally mentioned that not only was he in the brotherhood, he was, in fact, a grand poobah. Which did nothing to bond us. So here I was, with this weird pseudo- threat hanging over my head, when I confronted him. "Hey motherfucker, you better call off your dogs in that secret society of yours." He claimed to not know what I was talking about, so I showed him the letter. "Listen", he says, "In any group of people there's going to be renegades, people that go against the established order. I don't know who this guy Illiel is, but I wouldn't worry about it." "So", I say, "the Masons don't really have any interest in me?" He smirks. "Oh, I wouldn't say that." The next day, Norm hands me an email that he'd gotten that read, in part, "Subject 18999435, Ken McIntyre, observed on Saturday, 7.14 at 5:20 p.m. on Mass. Avenue in Cambridge, accompanied by unidentified blonde female, approx. 5'9". Step up observation on female subject?" I laughed it off. I mean, I'm easy to find, after all. Norm laughed too, saying it was some greasy joke, but who really knows how far the tendrils of the Masonic conspiratorial octopus stretch? Meanwhile, Ian was conducting his own spin control, and the next week, his rebuttal was printed in the 'Dig':

"In response to the letter that appeared in your last issue [ the strange potentially veiled threat potentially from a Mason or member of another secret order]:

Dude, Any of the Masonic, Hermetic, or otherwise esoteric beans I may have spilled can easily be found in your local library. Please try to remember the purpose of the brotherhood is to enlighten, not to threaten outsiders. That's precisely why organizations like the AFAM, AMORC, Templars, etc get so much heat. As a matter of fact, years ago, the worshipful master of the Tri-town temple suggested that I start my journey with the book "Born in Blood", I think it's a good one for anyone interested to start with. Above and beyond that, chill out.

Love,
Ian Adams Grand Archeteuthys, CC "

So far, no black cloaked assassins have dragged either Ian or myself into the nearest alley to silence our cult busting derring- do forever, but the night is young. I only hope that with all our efforts, Tim scored with the chick in the leather pants, and that it was delicious. 

(Text used with permission, I'm assuming, from Boston's Weekly Dig. Occultists looking for somebody to threaten, check out www.weeklydig.com )

The Perils of Rock and Roll Decadence

I just found out that at our July show, there was this couple standing directly in front of me, and while we were playing, this dude was totally fingering this chick!
Here I was singing to them, thinking they were really enjoying the show. I guess they were in their own way... - Karen Neal, Queen Bee (www.queenbee.ismad.com)

Date: Fri. August 24th @ The Rainbow Inn in Hazel Park (Detroit area) - We played with a band called Killswitch. At the last minute we find out the opening band broke up so they won't be showing up. Well, the singer (Eric Dahlstrom) in my other band (Negative Conductor) happened to be there to see the show as well as the singer for my old band (Bryan Adams, believe it or not). So we just throw a band (we called it The Nuges) together on the spot with Eric on guitar, Paul on bass, me on drums and Bryan singing. This is a smallish bar (I think they used to be a divey sports bar that went under) with a fairly small stage, a pretty sucky PA and, oh yeah, we found out when we got there we had to work the door (which I didn't mind cause that meant the bands actually got all the money) and do the sound ourselves. Well, another couple of friends at the show helped out and did the door and sound. The PA was a little six channel mixer on the side of the stage running out to two fairly large speakers sitting on stands on either side of the stage right out front. We (The Nuges) started playing to open the show. The guitar is so loud that 5 minutes into the set it blows one of the PA speakers (sitting right in front of the guitar amp) about 5 feet through the air...luckily there was no one near by or they would have been killed. The speaker comes crashing to the ground to the ecstatic cheers of the crowd but, to be honest, we were so fucked up we really didn't notice until the first song was over and we heard the guy that was doing sound freaking out "DUDE, DUDE, TURN IT DOWN, TURN IT DOWN!" We only played for about 15 minutes then Killswitch went on and finally The DragStrippers. The crowd was electrified for the rest of the night and they even ventured up near the stage eventually. It was a great show. But even after The DragStrippers played people were still saying "Man, I've never seen anyone rock so hard they (Nuges) blew the PA speaker off the stand! That was the shit!" - Gram Larceny, the Dragstrippers

I was playing an all ages show and things were going wild, I was down on my knees, bashing my head into the floor when something cut open the top of my head. Blood starts gushing down my face, I thought, 'wow! this is cool!' Then I got really dizzy, managed to finish the whole show and asked my fill-in guitar player to drive me to the hospital, by this point I was completely covered in blood, dizzy and barely able to speak. The guitar player in question was a temp, he was an acquaintance who played awesome so he filled in and did the show. Being a pretty "hot chick", he totally hit on me all the time at practice and I was really sick of it and even told him to go fuck off a couple times and he still kept doing it. So, we are in the car, I am profusely pouring blood by now and all the way to the hospital he is saying, "I really like you Charlie", "we should be together...etc" He is going on and on and on and I am laying back thinking, 'What the fuck? I am dying here! This guy is fucked in the head!' So, I say to him, 'I don't want to go to the hospital anymore, take me back to the show.' So we drive back... I get out and get over to where my band is tearing down. They are all shocked that I am back. So, I decide to take advantage of my condition and get some sympathy and some jerk's ass kicked at the same time. I say this: "I wanted to go, but all he could do was hit on me and say all this crap when I am dying here!" That was enough they all started yelling at him, and a couple seconds later his guitar was thrown at him and they kicked his ass out of the hall. I did eventually end up at the hospital that night and I never saw that loser guitar player again. - Charlie Drown (www.charliedrown.com )

So, it was Crash and Burn's first tour. We went out with Weedeater for a couple of weeks down south. We were on our way back up the coast when it happened. We were in South Carolina and Jef had to use the can so we stopped at a gas station in some pissant backwoods town. The floor of the van was pretty hot but we hadn't had any major trouble with it. So we pull into this gas station, Jef gets out and goes to the can, Phil and Matt (our roadie) go into the mini mart, and Bombo (our old drummer) and I stay outside. Bombo had just started pumping the gas when he said "is that smoke coming from the front of the van"? Sure enough there was smoke rising out of the hood, so i had him pop the hood and there was a huge ball of flame underneath the engine (which would be pretty crazy anyway, not to mention the fact that we were pumping gas right then, and this town consisted of a couple of gas stations and fireworks places, so if we blew up we would've wiped the whole fuckin place off the map - we could've been on CNN as the band that destroyed a town). so Bombo and I run into the gas station and yell that our van is on fire and we need a fire extinguisher. The attendant lazily waddles over and says, "Here she is, you boys know how to use it?" He didn't seem to realize that we didn't exactly have time for talking, so Bombo ripped it out of his hands and ran outside and put the motherfucker out. We then pushed it into the parking lot, pulled apart the front and realized that it was completely charred. We called a tow truck and they dropped us off at south of the border (it's like hillbilly Disneyland) because that was the only motel even remotely close. We got a room, stocked up on as much hooch as we could afford (I believe it was two cases of some crappy ice beer, a couple of bottles of Mad Dog, and a bottle of Thunderbird) and proceeded to wreck the place. We did flips from the dresser onto the bed (Bombo was doing back flips by the time both beds were broken), and just all around took out our frustrations on the room. We even found some weed in the room, which was pretty cool. Then next day we sat around shitty small town no.2 while our van was being worked on and ate fried everything because folks down south love to fry everything. After kicking around all day our shit was finally fixed (fixed enough to get us home anyway) and we drove back home after missing our few last shows and way in debt. - Bill, Crash and Burn (www.crashandburn1.com)

"We played in Minneapolis earlier this year, at some bar called the 'High Society Music Bar' or something. It was an all- ages club with a bar. We were drinking and happy. The place smelled like body odor and band -aids. There was a huge amount of nerdy indie rock kids there to see this band called 'the Frenchies' or something... some skinny dork wanted to interview us before the show for his little 'zine. We told him to ask us after the show when we were good and drunk. He was pushy and relentless, but agreed to leave us alone until then. This was the first show with our new bassist, Nigel. Nigel and our roadie Velcro Lewis are very protective of us. They usually don't let anyone talk to us before we play, cuz Strapbone and Boom Boom have a horrible problem with being sluts and have missed our sound check too many times because they were making out with some punk rock throw-backs, and I also hate people, so it works out fine. Well, Velcro and Nigel were off doing something stupid and trying to impress the local girls with their heavy metal cassette distro while we were getting ready to get made up and look pretty. That one dork with the 'zine asked us once more if we were ready for the interview. I said "NO! Get lost or I'll break your glasses!" and he ran away. We gathered our caboodle and wardrobe and strutted off to the ladies room to change. We were in there forever, dolling ourselves up, getting naked, checking out each other's tits and tan lines, when Strapbone asks, "You guys hear some kinda clicky- clack?" "A what?" "A clicky-clack", she repeats. "We told you NOT to do whippets before a show ever again!" I scream at her. "No. It sounds like a camera...whatever, I hear that sound all the time, if you know what I mean..." She says. "Um, sure you do..." just then, there was a flash. Someone was taking perv pictures of us without the usual written consent! With my corset half on and Strapbone in just her skibbies, we kick open the stall door. It was the interviewer dork snapping pictures of his wet dreams! Boom Boom jumps in and grabs his camera and runs out of the bathroom. Strapbone and I push him into the open toilet. He couldn't get away. I cracked my knuckles. Boom Boom comes back in with Velcro and Nigel. She picks the kid outta the toilet, throws him against the sink. He doesn't even cry, shout, or try to get away. Boom Boom hands the camera to Nigel and Velcro holds the kid in a half-nelson. Boom Boom punches him in the gut while Nigel takes a picture. Then Strapbone takes a shot at him, right in the face. Nigel snaps another shot. Then I punched him in the nuts. "OWWWWIE!", another great photo opportunity! We took about 6 more pictures until the film ran out. We made him cry. Thats what happens, after all, when a boy gets punched in the balls. We left him with the film, as a reminder that he got beat up by some girls... anyway the show went good and we got paid $15! - Jenna Talia, Apocalypstick (www.mp3.com/apocalypstick) 

It was a Tuesday, sometime last July. Hot, hot, hot. Onstage, headlining at Sheffields Casbah club. Last song, 'Sneak Preview,' singer Denis jumping a round, knocking things over, falling down, causing trouble. Christoff the bass man, swings his bass tool around like a crazy man, and 'SMASH!' Christoffs' bass machine head and Denis's ear collide. Blood everywhere. Denis's 1986 Maradonna yellow soccer shirt now red, ear lobe and other bits writhing on the stage floor. Sir Dickus Mintus, other singer, picks lobe up, hands it back to Denis, who is laughing and bleeding. Crowd thinks it's part of the show, as nobody really knows what will happen next at a gig. Doctors stitch lobe back on, plastic surgery is rumored. National coverage in UK. NME runs story, local papers run story & pictures, infamy complete. For our next trick, we will set ourselves on fire, live on CNN. - Al Machine, Less Than Zero (http://www.pmella.freeserve.co.uk/sheffieldbands/lessthanzero.htm )

Sugar in the Gastank:
The Dollyrots story

"Gosh, I don't get that many free drinks. I think people think that I'm too young to drink, so they don't offer, because they think they'll get in trouble."

Combine girl-group harmonies, a buzzing Johnny Thunders guitar and the sugary chirp of Letters To Cleo, and you've got a heady sonic cocktail indeed, albeit the pink and fuzzy kind that's so sweet you don't realize how rubber-leg drunk it's making you until you wake up in another state, badly tattooed and married to a stripper. And like any good mood altering substance, it's even better in constant, ever increasing doses. That's what the Dollyrots are like. Before being graced with their demo, if you would have told me that one of my favorite records out of the half a billion or so I've heard this year would come from a bunch of barely legal kids in Florida who call their music "bubblegum punk' and feature a singer who performs in a poodle skirt, well, I would have told you to lay off the fucking absinthe, Jack. But that's the beauty of rock and roll, you never know what's going to happen next, or who's going to make it happen. The Dollyrots are not just a band, they are an anti-venom, the new pop narcotic, a cure for all the gut spilling and hand wringing getting passed off as rock music these days. Somebody call Allan Freed, and tell Chuck Berry, or maybe Buck Cherry the news, because we've got an authentic sensation on our hands. 

Having only formed a scant 4 months ago, they've already managed to bring their hometown of Sarasota, Florida to it's knees with their insanely up-beat brand of cotton candy pop-punk. And while that may not seem like the biggest accomplishment a band can muster, there's dozens of bands in central Florida that have been slugging it out in local dives for years, and none of them are in Hitlist, are they? I actually already have a 21 year old baby sister, but I'm officially adopting Kelly Dollyrots as well. She's like a curly haired Mary Tyler Moore, the Dick Van Dyke version with the Capri pants and an endearing habit of starting her sentences with the word 'Gosh'. She's like evil turned inside out, this one. "There's a broad range of people that come out to see us. For some reason or another, we have a large gay following. I don't know why, it perplexes us. Maybe they think Luis and Frank are cute. And we always have a couple of old biker men that come up to us after the show and say, 'You guys rock!" Everybody in between too, like preppy kids, and then serious rockers, too. We've had a lot of people say 'Gosh, I came to your show, and I was in a really bad mood, I was feeling really lame, but when I left, I was just smiling so big!'" Kelly's calling from the Dollyrots farm on a Saturday afternoon in late August. Brimming with enthusiasm, she's talking about the affect her band has on its audience. " That's really all what we want to do. If it goes any further than that, great. But I mean, we don't want to be any kind of 'Beaver Cleaver' positive influence or anything horrible like that, but we'd at least like to show people that there can be normal kids that can function somewhat happily." The fact that such a simple concept seems rare, almost antiquated in these times of desperate youthful aggression is further proof that the Dollyrots couldn't have shown up at a better time. What the world needs now... is bubblegum punk.

She Can Turn the World On With Her Squeak

In her trademark soft spoken chirp, Kelly explains the origins of the band. "Frank, our drummer, was in a band called 'Prophecy', which was totally self-indulgent metal." She laughs. " Luis (guitar) and I were both in a band called 'No Chef', and it was pretty horrific. The name was even terrible. We found a tape of it, and it was only a year ago, but we listened to a tape of one of our practices, and it was so bad. It was similar music to what we do now, really, but we just didn't take it very seriously. Not that our music is all that serious now. But in that band, the bass player wanted to be the star of the show, so I only got to sing two songs." Kelly's voice is the star of the Dollyrots show, that much is certain. With roots firmly planted in 60's pop and 50's rock and roll, her vocals are like some cartoon version of a mini-skirted Motown wailer. Or Joey Ramone on helium and ecstasy, maybe. But a year ago, she didn't even know she could sing. "I didn't plan on singing at all, but then, one day the guys were going, 'Try singing this song for me', so I was like, 'Alright, but you have to leave the room.' So I sat there by myself, and recorded it on a four track. And when they heard it, they were like, 'Oh! You should sing in the band!' So I said, 'ok'. It took a little while for me to get used to it, but I like it now, it's fun." Her signature upper-register squeal, it turns out, was born, not made. "In 4th grade, I was in chorus for a year, but I wasn't any good. Even now, I mean, I tried going to a vocal coach, but I only went twice. He wanted me to sing church music, it was crazy. He was a really nice guy, but he was teaching me 'Danny Boy'. I was trying really hard, but I just can't sing that way. Before shows, I'm always going, 'I hope you like high- pitched noises! If you don't, you're in trouble!" Minnie mouse went punk, and they named her Kelly. And her band? For some weird-assed reason, they called it the Dollyrots. "You want the definition? That's the easiest way. The Dollyrots is a disease that affects kids, and the symptoms are apathy, irritable bowels, corporate taste in clothing, and pierced nipples." So, is the band the ailment, or the cure? "I don't know, it's just a way to describe what's going on, you know, pop culture and all that. It's a fun name."

Most new bands start their live careers on tiny stages on off-nights, playing for the bartender and the crickets. The Dollyrots took a different route. "Our first show was in front of 200 people, and we were petrified", Kelly admits. We were headlining, because we put the show together. It was the graduation for this liberal arts college, a no-grades, hippy kind of place. It was fun, people liked it. That was one of the times that people moshed at one of our shows, but it wasn't really angry moshing. People were just kind of laughing and running into each other. That's typically the response we get. People like to bounce really fast, and then they bounce too fast, and their bodies get all confused, so it looks like moshing, but it's really not." Moshing. Florida. They go together like sharks and drunken surfers. "We haven't played a single show with anybody that's remotely like us. There's one other band that's sort of bubblegum punk around here, they're called Anti-Anti, but they're all boys. We're pretty much alone out here." Alone with 10,000 sweaty head bangers. "You haven't seen mullets until you've come to Florida. We get mullets at every one of our shows." She laughs. "We've played many, many metal shows. For some reason, the club owners around here always think that'd we'd do well with metal bands. So we play with bands like Sledge Wound and Struggle, all these nu- metal kids." Surprisingly, these odd couplings have gone over reasonably well. "Usually their fans are pretty receptive, so that's cool. Frank, our drummer, he's like an old school metal guy, so it's important to him, I think, for them to be accepting. Those shows are always interesting. The metal guys always want to do that thing, where we swap records with the other bands, so I have this huge collection of screaming, angry boy...things." When I ask her why central Florida breeds new jack metal like the swamplands breed mosquitoes, she offers up an explanation. "I just think the kids are bored as hell, there's not a lot of fun things to do around here. But I don't know if it's just in Florida, the kids just all seem really mad, it's kind of scary. Maybe they want something to be angry about, but they just don't have anything", she guesses, "so all they've got is 'Mommy didn't buy me those big baggy pants I wanted!' and they scream about that." Given the musical climate of their surroundings, the Dollyrots have tried their best to assimilate. "We do different covers when we play with metal bands. We do 'Breaking the Law', and we do "You Shook Me All Night Long", she says. " It's fun. The lead singer of AC/DC showed up at our last show for like, half a set. He lives in Sarasota, and we'd been trying to get him to hear about us without being too blatant, and I guess he did. I didn't know he was there, so we didn't play "Shook Me", I was so pissed off. I don't know if he liked us or not, but people said he was smiling." With grizzled Scottish boogie metal stars on their side, fame can't be too far away. " People recognize me on the street, and it's pretty sick", she laughs. " It's fun though, I could definitely get used to it. I'm looking forward to seeing what the rest of the world thinks of us." 

We Can't Stay Here Baby, This is Nowhere

"Oh, gosh." Kelly sounds exasperated when I ask her about the cultural landscape in her home state. "It's probably easier to be hip in Florida", she says. "At least, it's easier to think you're hip. We're probably 5 years behind the major cities. I mean, the poor Midwest, they're ten years behind, so I guess it's not that bad. But in Florida, I think it's too easy to be cool, because maybe you're deluding yourself, or something. But we're thinking of moving out west, anyway." It was inevitable, I suppose. The Dollyrots go Hollywood. "We're thinking about Santa Monica." I try to impress on Kelly that all things rock actually happen on the East Coast, but she's not buying it. "I don't think I could take the climate up north", she says. "I was born in Jersey, and I hate going up there." I ask her how long she suffered in the Garden state. "6 weeks! My family moved right after I was born. We have a lot of family there, so I usually spend my summers up there, and it's always gray and depressing. I like palm trees and pink flamingos." I remind her that a move to a new city means that the band would have to start from scratch, but she's not worried. "We don't mind. Next month, we're playing the State Theater. That's in St Petersburg, it's this really big place, it's kind of a big deal. If you play there a couple of times, and you get a decent crowd, than it's time to move on, because there really isn't anyplace left to go around here. We've been here for 4 months now, and I just think that if we stay any longer, we'd just be wasting time. I figure we ought to move while we can. I really need to see what another music scene is like, because I don't know, things around here just don't seem quite right." Of course, there are many, many bands that would be content to slog it out in the trenches of hometown heroism for four years, never mind that many months, without looking to stake out bigger territory, but pointless obscurity is just not part of the Dollyrots plan. They've got bigger ideas. "Oh, we're in it for world domination, at the very least", Kelly tells me, with confidence.

Betsey Johnson Appreciation Society

"There's definitely a Dollyrots 'look'. I don't know why, but Frank and Luis both end up looking kind of effeminate. Maybe that's why we have a gay following", she laughs. "Frank wears lipstick. He likes to wear black, and hot pink. They both like to wear fishnets on their arms. Frank's always bare chested, with like, funny pants. His mom makes circus costumes, so we have a lot of stuff to choose from. He'll pick something crazy out of her circus clothes pile. Luis always wears striped socks, like knee high socks. And he has awesome silver boots. They look just like moon boots." I should point out that this doesn't look nearly as ridiculous as it reads. Really. "I just wear, you know, a tank top and boots and a skirt, usually. I have a really cool poodle skirt that I like to wear. Frank's mom made it for me. It's black with a hot pink poodle, and he has the punk dog collar and everything. That's what we're thinking of calling our album, "Pink Punk Poodle". Besides the circus glam fashions, I ask her what else you can expect from a Dollyrots show. "Lots of really fast bouncing. It's a fun show, I love playing live. I think I'm too self-conscious to be standing there all by myself, though", she says, when I ask her if she's thought of leaving the bass behind and just singing. "I like to keep busy on stage, so the bass gives me something to do. I don't really like to stand up there and dance and grind in front of people. There may come a time when I get used to that, but I kind of hope it never comes." We get around to discussing 'Motorcycle Boy', my favorite Dollyrots song. Not only does it instantly bring to mind the drink and slink raunch heroics of Sir Francois and Mr Ratboy's former biker sleaze band of gypsies, but it's also one of the catchiest little numbers I've ever had stuck to the roof of my brain. A cautionary tale, like "Dead Man's Curve', only with the Dollyrot's patented happy ending, it's infectious 'Motorcycle Boy, don't race around my heart' chorus is pure pop genius. I ask Kelly if she actually had a motorcycle boy to sing about. "Well, I did, but that's not what the song is about. The song is actually a wedding present for some friends of ours, and it's true to a 't'. Like the boy, he was really sweet, and they met working at this coffee place. They started dating, and he got into this terrible, terrible motorcycle accident, and they he sold his mangled motorcycle for an engagement ring. It's just so cute, isn't it?" Well, I'm the Sleazegrinder, I eat planets, so I don't know from 'cute'. But I have to admit, it lightens my scowl. "But there's this cute group of motorcycle boys from Chicago that just moved to Sarasota. They come to our shows, and they bring their bikes. It's not about them, but they think it is."

I Don't Monotone It Down

"So far, at least for the past few months, I've gotten to be a Dollyrot 24 hours a day. I don't know how we're pulling it off, except that we drink a lot of Slim Fast, because it's cheap and has a lot of vitamins." Kelly gives me a run down of a typical day in the life of the band. "It's really hot here, so we like to wait for the sun to go down before we get up. Frank lives in the middle of nowhere, like 40 minutes out of Sarasota. Right now, I'm looking out the window, and there's a couple of horses and about 50 cows, it's pretty cool out here. So we come out here and hang out for awhile, and then we practice 3 or 4 times. Then we might go back into the city, have a taco salad, or something. Then we come back and record for awhile." Not bad work, if you can get it. Kelly talks about the album that they've been diligently working on all summer. "The album will probably have about 18 songs on it, because they're all pretty short. It's going to be early Dollyrots, raw. We're going to try to put down what we've done so far. We're ready to write new songs, so we want to get all the old ones recorded first. We hope to have it finished in a month." Kelly cites The Ronettes, Pixies, Donnas, Elvis, and Billy Idol as her musical influences. All are masters at crafting 2 to 3 minutes of pure pop bliss. Expect a similar collection of hits from 'Pink Punk Poodle'. "It's not like we make them super -catchy on purpose", Kelly claims. "We just try not to make them too difficult for people to get. We're not a pop song writing machine, at least not yet." Maybe not, but with an average age of 22, the Dollyrots certainly have time on their side. A record contract, well, that's a different story. "We were talking to a guy out here about putting out the record locally, but I don't know if we're going to do it, because he wants me to sing in a 'monotone fashion', and it just doesn't work. He seems to think that it's amazing, he wants to shop it out to Columbia and Sony and stuff, but we just wouldn't be happy doing that, it just wouldn't sound right. He just didn't appreciate the high pitched frequencies, I guess. We'll probably just end up releasing it ourselves." I ask her about the Dollyrots plans, after the record is released. "If we don't move out west anytime soon, we'll probably go mope around somewhere. I don't know if you could really call it a tour, but that's what we'll play it off as. I just really want to get out there and see what happens." Kelly's band mates call her for practice, but before I let her go, I ask her what she thinks the Dollyrots appeal is, why even rock and roll burn-outs like myself are so easily swayed by their sunny pop punk. "I think it's just that it makes people happy", she says simply. "We're not pissed off, we're not whining, we don't really have anything to be sad about. Everybody has crap to deal with, but we're not going to complain about it. We don't want to be angst driven brats, we just want everybody to be happy. That's what it's all about, I think. It makes you feel good." And what more, brothers and sisters, can you ask from a rock band? Get happy now: www.dollyrots.com 

Sleazegrinder's Top Ten

Black Cat 9 "Cathouse" (www.angelfire.com/bc/blackcat9 ) Italian hard raunch that sounds like Angus Young and Ace Frehley trying desperately to contain Axl's high register screech. The purest dose of high octane sleaze I've heard all year.

United Enemies "I Don't Wanna Change" (Power Music) Iggy on the megaphone, the Love Reaction all hopped up on pop songs and crystal, United Enemies are primo Swedish swagger rock. Bonus points for releasing a one song single. That, my friends, is quality control at it's swankiest.

Kissinger "Charm" (www.kissingertheband.com) The best hi-gloss, arena ready power pop band since 'Saturation' era Urge Overkill. This is exactly what would happen if Weezer were made up of the cool kids instead of the dorks.

Suckerstarz - demo (www.geocities.com/suckerstarz) The Hungarian Hanoi Rocks. As if the Finnish version makes more geographical sense. Support the cause and send these cats your old leopard skin cowboys hats and leather pants, because that shit's pretty scarce over there. Further proof that the Rock is a global curse.

Smithwick Machine (www.smithwickmachine.com) Like cracking open some ancient vault and finding Ziggy Stardust 2. Smithwick Machine answer that oft asked question : Do Mexican brass sections and cocktail xylophones belong in heavy rock? Yes. Yes they fucking do.

Space Surfers "Bikini" (www.spacesurfers.com) Take an Italian super model, give her a guitar and a stack full of Blondie, Cheap Trick, and Sigue Sigue Sputnik records, and...well, that pretty much says it all, doesn't it? The CD's booklet says, "Cool kids like the big guitars more than naked movie stars". I'm assuming you're ordering the record already.

Comes With the Fall "This is Year One" (www.comeswiththefall.com) Well, I wrote the liner notes, so what do you think it sounds like? Stellar, high gloss hard rock that sounds like early the Alice Cooper band and Mother Love Bone had more in common than drug addicted lead singers. If these cats catch fire, then rock radio is saved. Rise and join the Fallen, citizen.

Gonzalez - demo (www.stonerrock.com/gonzalez) Stoner rock and rollah, heavy ass riffs and clanging cowbells, love rock gone wrong and greasy mustaches all around. 

Lo-Ball "It's OK, I'm with the Band" (www.lo-ball.com) Entirely fuckable and infectiously catchy sleaze pop from these LA ultravixens. The cock rock Spice Girls. Check out their performance in the

Badsville movie - it's the ginchiest.

Bad Wizard "Free and Easy" (www.teepeerecords.com) The greatest 8 track tape that never existed, in a world where the MC5 signed to Motown and the freaks ran wild in the streets, naked and unafraid.

Guest List: Stacey Sleazegrinder's Top Ten

Sure, she's my wife, my number one supergirl, the gleam in Sleazegrinder's eye, but Stacey's also prone to laying down the good word on the global hipster indie rock scene in the Girl Powered websites www.coolgrrrls.com and www.womanrock.com under the nom de pop of Stacey Dawn. Although she doesn't seem to get the sublime pleasures of Dirty Southern Stoner Doom, her tastes are otherwise impeccable. 

Audra and The Antidote "Hello?" (www.theantidote.net) Pure pop/rock gems are all you'll find on this disk. Keep your eye on this up and coming Nashville-based band, they're destined to go far.

The Space Surfers "Bikini" (www.spacesurfers.com) With songs about comic books, cartoon characters and sex, how can you go wrong?

The Switchblade Kittens "Hey Punk, Try Heroine(s)" (www.switchbladekittens.com) Girl Punk at its finest... they even do a punk cover of My Heart Will Go On (Love Theme from The Titanic)!

Honey Tongue - demo (www.honeytongue.com) Powerful, soulful, female-fronted Seattle rock. A nice break from the screaming noise blaring out of the radio. Produced by Brett Eliason (Pearl Jam).

Lo-Ball - CD Sampler "It's Okay I'm with the Band" (www.lo-ball.com) You want girls who know how to rock... you got it! Unfortunately, this band is currently searching for a new lead singer.

The Lollies - "Bang! Bang! Bang! Lookout, Lookout, Lookout!" (www.thelollies.co.uk) Fun, catchy, head-bopping Britpop.

Sticky Sweet- demo (no website) And there shall be fun, London, glamster power pop for the masses...stay tuned....

Slushpuppy - Pre-Release EP (www.slushpuppyrocks.com) Fierce girl-powered rock n' roll. Enough said!

Fire Bug - CD Single "Wise Girl" (www.firebugmusic.com) Gorgeous pop music.... good for the soul.

Freezepop "Freezepop Forever" (www.freezepop.net) A tasty synthpop treat... reminiscent of bands like Kraftwerk, Pulsars and Depeche Mode.

Peace Dog

As a lowly sleazy rock journalist, it's hardly my place to lay on political commentary, but the sky is falling, and who knows how deep into the mud of global conflict we're gonna get pushed in the coming year? This is no Gonzo freak-force revolution. Suddenly, it's not the screw -heads versus the doomed anymore, we're all pretty much doomed at the moment. And as super-cool and bad ass as it is being an American, maybe it's time we, as a very large and unwieldy group of humans, stop thinking in those kinds of terms once and for all. Maybe it's time we dropped the pretence of race and borders, and just started looking out for one another wherever the fuck we are on this planet. The rock nation, after all, is a world-wide phenomenon, and despite some fucked up accents here and there, we all get along famously, our only conflicts relegated to trash talk and a few fist fights along the way in our glorious 50 years of existence. Trivial as it may seem in the smoke of this tragedy, rock and rollers look out for each other. I got e-mails and phone calls from my rock brothers and sisters all over the world this week, and they weren't even hassling me for reviews this time, they were just making sure I was alive and well, offering sympathy, support, and prayers. I'm guessing the same thing happened to you. We are all very lucky motherfuckers in many, many ways. I already know a few cats in NYC that weren't so lucky, and this might only be the beginning of some very heavy days indeed. The rock must roll on, and it will, but do me a favor- take care of each other, brothers and sisters. As Zodiac Mindwarp once said, "The power of love, baby. Don't fuck with it."