Local Wire

The Formaldehydes

If Tiger Beat ever dedicated an issue to the hottie bad boys of psychobilly, sure as shit you'd see the mugs of San Diego's Formaldehydes gracing the cover, asking the preadolescent readership, "Can You Tame Their Wild Souls?" And untamed they are, as drummer Mr. Hyde and guitarist Gizmo play at breakneck speed while bass-playing front man Galactic Gabe snarls lurid lines about supernatural mass murders and seduction by a bare-naked succubus, adding a few howls for good measure. He's apparently traded his soul to Satan, as his demonically hard plucking of a flaming-red upright produces a rhythmic thwack that dominates the band's sound -- a siren call for the uninitiated to join their Formalde-Klan. That, and their twentysomething good looks and gravity-defying hair have earned them salacious flirts from across the Internet. One female's post on the band's Web site (www.theformaldehydes.com) stated, "Honestly you kids are so good looking and your music is killer. So . . . you single?" Oh, have mercy!
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Benjamin Leatherman is a staff writer at Phoenix New Times. He covers local nightlife, music, culture, geekery, and fringe pursuits.