We tend to crawl out of our cave occasionally. We've played two shows to date, one in Orlando, Florida which was more of an exercise in destruction of public and private property, and one in Daytona Beach which saw the band emerge from its instrumental, jam-band shell into a full-frontal affront to music, good taste and the senses.

Rubbers

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Spawned in the heart of Crack City, Florida in March of 2003, MUCK has done one thing since then and done it well- jam. After practicing together for only around 2 months, we began recording our nightly sessions. Instead of us practicing and practicing again the songs we had started work on, more often than not we wound up just coming in, plugging up, spacing out and playing 40-60+ minute jams. Disillusioned (and moreso disgusted) not only by our seedy, venal surroundings but also the pathetically desolate music scene in Daytona, an understandable vein of cynicism ran deep within the sound of the music we were creating. Spending the majority of our days locked away from most everyone in our garage-turned-home studio, our focus centered on the catharisis that beating the sh*** out of an instrument for an hour could bring after delivering pizza into the heart of every crack neighborhood in this flaming shithole, as well as the stress and tense hostility that type of experience can impart on a person. The sound is everything light and dark, large and small, from all corners of influence. It is fat, ugly and raw. Our shit, piss, puke, blood and cum all neatly assembled right here for your uneasy consumption.

Black Sabbath, the Beatles, Acid Bath, Eyehategod, Ministry, Halo, GG Allin, Pig Destroyer, Isis, Merzbow, anything Mike Patton.

New Orleans, LA / Philadelphia, PA

The broken, duct-taped kind.

MUCK on Myspace
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