In recent grunge basement happenings, a supergroup-of-sorts— "the Thrown Epps"— was born on the seventh night of March this year of our Lord (Satan) 2014. On that fateful night, members of two '80s Seattle bands of the proto-grunge persuasion—the Thrown Ups and Mr. Epp and the Calculations—jammed to the relief of the grunge-nostalgia-crazed everywhere. As those schooled in the "pre-grunge" armory may recognize, the line-up for the night was Jo Smitty ("Mr. Epp," sorta), Mark Arm (of both bands; Mudhoney), as well as Leighton Beezer (aka Satan), Scott Schickler, Mike Faulhaber, and Ed Fotheringham of the Thrown Ups. In their heyday, both bands made genre-molding, mind-rigging weirdo rock, but 30 years later one might wonder if the weird is still alive.
What happened that night in Mike's basement surfaced in a recording—unedited, unmixed, and untitled. The riffs are heavily sprawled, the vocals indiscernible; some might even call these songs intentionally directionless. As vocalist Jo Smitty said, it's "kinda like standing in a basement with a Rainier in your hand." There's nothing sing-along-able here, no thoughtfully composed synth beds, alpha-jungle-dub beat drops, or anything the Mumfords 'n' Skrillex-saturated popular music landscape might condone. Is this the worst band in the world? Is it even a band? This is a record for those times when only the most raw and disgruntled sounds will suffice.