NAME: Kim Sollecito, Miranda Zipse, Dylan Fernandez, Kate Gutwald.

AGE: Kim and Miranda are Supa Dupa Fly-years-old, Dylan is SexyCrazyCool-years-old, and Kate’s first words were “goo goo ga ga, Astro-Creep: 2000—Songs of Love, Destruction and Other Synthetic Delusions of the Electric Head.”

FROM: NYC, U.S.A., EARTH.

OCCUPATION: Beer drinkers and hell raisers, in that we are professionally licensed beer drinkers, and we are raising hell—as if it were my own child—in a loving environment, allowing hell to make mistakes, sure, but safe in the knowledge that we’ll always be there for hell, so that hell can grow, in both confidence and empathy, to become a well rounded and productive member of society. Any singer/songwriter can make a hell, but it takes a band to raise one.

HOBBIES: Sewing back patches of the full color, to scale, recreation of the Bayeux Tapestry (with Cindy Wilson and Kate Pierson in the place of William the Conqueror and King Harold ll) that Miranda painted free-hand during a blackout. Also, Words With Friends.

LAST BOOK YOU READ: The Bell Jar.

LAST ACCOMPLISHMENT: Brought to life, Weird Science style, our Roku box. At first, it was one sexy misadventure after the next, but eventually we learned some valuable lessons about friendship.

QUOTE: “If you can’t Miranda and the Beat ‘em… go do something else. Because, no, you can’t join Miranda and the Beat.”

PROFILE: Combining the garage soul of the Lyres, the rhythmic idiosyncrasy of the Liars, and the avant-emotionalist-Americana of, like, the Geraldine Fibbers, Miranda and the Beat have cornered the market on bands with names that imply they’re lying but whose music speaks to a higher truth. They could be half as good as they are and still be way better than they need to be. With an able command of the blues and art punk traditions they come from, the band could coast on just sounding cool if they wanted to. But “sounding cool” is just a day ending in “y” for the band. Below the surface of hot-shit licks, wailing vocal lines, and ‘96 Tearfuls of snaking keys, there’s a wild and strange depth. It’s a depth worth drowning in, just to hang with all the rock lobsters, rock kraken, and other assorted weird rock monsters glowing and vibing along in the dark.

Always say “Boy Howdy!"

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