Storm Large content online

Most of Storm Large’s Web site has been wiped, presumably to either not upset the producers of Rock Star: Supernova or to relaunch it with more recent content.

But Google to the rescue, particularly its cached page function.

Interesting excerpts from the news page on her site:

Best gen-x jazz babies
Any band with the word “balls” in its name should be, well, ballsy, and one-of-a-kind torch singer Storm Large and her three-man backing band the Balls don’t disappoint. The commanding, 6-foot blond vixen cleverly twists rock and heavy-metal hits, American classics and everything in between into absurd and poignant renditions best described as loungecore. In Storm’s world, Abba and Iron Butterfly coexist harmoniously in “Abba-Gadda-Davida,” and it’s perfectly normal to revisit Metallica, the Cramps and “The Star-Spangled Banner” in one raucous evening. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Storm’s Balls consist of skilled ex-members of Everclear and Motherlode. But she’s got the biggest you-know-whats. Check ’em on Wednesday nights at Dante’s (1 SW 3rd Ave., 226-6630) or at Wilf’s (800 NW 6th Ave., 223-0070). It’s in the old-school spaces where this Sinatra-channeling chick really shines.

Storm and the Balls at Sweetwater Saloon and DNA Lounge
Mill Valley and San Francisco, CA
by Jeremy Bates of the San Francisco Observer

SAN FRANCISCO — Can a cover band be truly original? Perhaps an inspired rearrangement, such as Clapton’s take on Jimi’s “Little Wing,” can stand on its own as a creative achievement. But common sense dictates that an entire repertoire of remakes does not a unique band make.

And yet we’ve not seen anything like ex-San Franciscan Storm Large and her Portland-based Balls. They slice and dice popular songs as if they’d invented the kitchen gadget infomercial. Remixing rock live and instantly shifting between heavy metal and showtunes like a DJ jerking the cross-fader, Storm and the Balls create warped medleys such as “Abba Godda Davida,” which sets Abba’s “Take a Chance on Me,” and “Dancing Queen,” to the tune by Iron Butterfly, and “Sweet Homey Motherfuc*er,” blending Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama” with “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot. The Balls are Saturday Night Live’s old Sweeney sisters on acid, and they seriously rock, carving up classics in their singular style of “loungecore.”

“It started as a joke,” Storm confesses over Chinese food before her gig at Mill Valley’s Sweetwater Saloon. Two years ago, tired of talent scouts sharing heartwarming opinions like “lose fifteen pounds,” “ditch your band,” and “you sing too well,” Storm burned out on the California music scene and retreated to Portland to lay low and bartend.

After enjoying a break in less-competitive surroundings, she reapproached music from a less serious, more playful angle and began toying with lounge-metal concoctions. A weekly Wednesday night gig opened up at her bar, and through its booking agent she soon found herself teamed-up with one-time Everclear tour musicians Davey Nipples (bass guitar) and James Beaton (keyboard). Together with drummer Brian Parnell they formed The Balls, which swelled in popularity as they revamped crowd favorites on a weekly, and then every-other-daily basis.

Storm’s vocals are as beautiful as she is, as full-bodied as her six-foot figure, shimmering like her blonde hair, and with a shivering vibrato to match her hips and undulations.

Onstage she flaunts both her frame and voice with equal abandon, pole-dancing on the mic stand while deftly morphing a full-tilt banshee metal screech to a dainty head-voice jazz solo, every snap movement and dead-on-key utterance turbocharged with such sexuality that the very in-and-out of everyday breathing must fuel her libido to its breaking point, timed to climax with her performances. Her flooringly undaunted presence is nothing short of true rock star caliber.

But when prompted for influences and comparisons, she doesn’t mention Courtney Love or the other usual suspects.

“I’m like a gen-X Bette Midler. Ella Fitzgerald, Bernadette Peters, Streisand, Sinatra: they reinterpreted the classics of their time. It’s not satire because I’m not making fun of the music. Everything I sing holds up and is really good. This is just a new way to look at old music and give it more excitement.” No reaction from the original artists on this philosophy…yet.

The night after the Sweetwater gig, The Balls open for Nina Hagen at the DNA Lounge in San Francisco. Storm is decked out in a long red skirt, which she hikes throughout the night, an expletive-labeled red T-shirt shredded to barely conceal her left nipple, and elbow-high glossy black gloves that seem to make her capable of committing at a moment’s notice acts too lewd for even San Francisco.

Cool skipping high-hats introduce a loungy number, which quickly swings towards cabaret as Storm pops her jazz hands and lets slip from her lips a lazy lullaby – by Metallica. Soon “Enter Sandman” and “One” are fused with scat vocals and upbeat synths, and even the several Janet Jacksons pulled by her top can‚t distract the captivated crowd from the absurd brilliance of the act. Ironic? Incredibly original? Whatever. Storm isn’t interested in that debate.

“Many pop stars don’t write their own music, and even a lot of new songs sound like they’ve been done before,” she says.

“The bottom line is that this is really fun and I can make a really good living doing it. People like it and will pay to see it. No song is safe.”

Storm and the Balls at Sweetwater Saloon
Mill Valley, CA
2/21/04
by Snapper Tunes

I thought that Nirvana was in Seattle but Saturday, February 21 she came to Mill Valley, CA and I was fortunate enough to be in the audience. I had planned to take my wife on her birthday trip (the BIG one) to our favorite town in the USA and I also wanted to spend some time at the famous Sweetwater Saloon which also happens to be in Mill Valley next to our hotel. When I checked their website for entertainment and saw that Storm & The Balls was on the schedule during our visit my wife wasn’t the only one that got a gift. The description on the billing read “Imagine a Vargas pin-up girl come to life and shot up with a cocktail of PCP and rabies – that’s Storm”. It doesn’t do her justice. She is larger than life (six feet) and far more beautiful than Vargas could do justice.

Storm (her name real name is Susan Storm Large) came out early dressed like a roadwhore – trust me – she would consider it a compliment and did a set of acoustic, mostly original music that to say was outstanding would be an understatement. After a short intermission, Storm (now dressed to the nines in a red gown) brought out The Balls and got even better. The Balls are bassist Davey Nipples (late of Everclear), pianist James Beaton (late of Everclear) and drummer Brian Parnell (late of Motherlode). They are all extremely talented yet understated to allow the real star to shine. Storm’s shtick is take songs or groups of songs that you have heard from punk to rock to ballads to… you name it… and throw them into a blender with her bra and thong and mix them up. What comes out is some of the most intriguing music I have ever heard performed in a professional, sexy, edgy, theatrical treatment by a songstress with a range of unparalleled and unerring musical magic. She turns all of these types of music into “lounge” songs and you think you are in Vegas except on drugs (strong drugs).

They opened with Pink Floyd’s “The Dark Side of the Moon” followed by a sultry little tune by Metallica (that’s right Metallica). Storm then showed her demure side by playing one of her crowd favorites by The Cramps – “Can Your Pussy Do the Dog?” As if on cue the next song out of the chute was dedicated to her new Snapper Snatcher friend from Alabama (one can always dream) titled “Sweet Homey Mother****er” and it shared some sentiments with Neil Young. She, however, can get away with it! Next was a combination song “In the Light Wedding” whereby Billy Idol’s “White Wedding” meets Led Zeppelin’s “In the Light”. All of this music was done without a break between songs leaving the crowd ready for a breath. While we all ordered a fresh beer and some went outside to smoke (note to Montgomery City Council – no smoking in bars in CA) Storm went into a very witty, informed and intelligent rap about the state of affairs in our country and the current “you’re either with us or against us” mentality of the current administration. In order to show her patriotism she burst out into The Star Spangled Banner. I’m not talking some jived-up, hip-hop, vibrato voiced rendition either. She sang a beautiful version that topped anything I have heard at the Super Bowl. All of a sudden the song morphed into an instrumental that I recognized as being from the cult classic Superfly – it was Curtis Mayfield’s The Pusherman. After grooving on Curtis for awhile she morphed back into and finished The Star Spangled Banner. It was a moment!

After a few more blended songs (including one of the finest renditions of “Moondance” you can imagine renamed “Van Ministry”) Storm did an original about her feelings toward an old lover – “I Want You to Die”. It was obvious that she loved him and now really hated him – pure top grade, two thumbs up Broadway theatre! After singing “Abba-Gadda-Davida” (Abba’s “Take a Chance on Me” and “Dancing Queen” sung to the classic “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”, and Cheap Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me” and making you really want her, Storm was called back for her encore. She sang a very haunting tune from Grease by Olivia Newton John but with a twist. If you look closely at the words to “Hopelessly Devoted” you can see a demented stalker who will not leave the lover who scorned her alone. With a butcher knife flailing and her gut wrenching soul flowing, a crazed Storm absolutely brought the house down. I realize that most of this music is cover music but trust me – I’ve never seen anything like it (and I’ve seen a lot). When I travel to the West Coast I will check the schedule on her website to see where she is performing and I will not miss it. I strongly suggest you do the same. Check her out at www.stormlarge.com where you can look, listen and I suggest order the CD from the concert – Hanging with The Balls. Sign in and tell her the Snapper Snatchers sent you. Oh by the way, will the friendly Scotsman who is the maintenance engineer at Berkeley send me an e-mail – I lost your card.

Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n Roll
This is an excerpt from my friend Michael W. Dean’s new book. His editor said there was too much drugs and sex in it. It’s a book about being a musician, for cripes sake!

Storm and the Balls Aboard the Portland Spirit
Willamette Week – Night Avenger 10/15/2003
by KIM COLTON

Riverboat cruises have always been an enchanting idea. Come experience the romance of the river! Take in the spectacular views! Enjoy the dazzling buffet!

Tempting as this may seem, cruising is a usually pastime for people with more patience than a 25-year-old, probably better enjoyed by AARP cardholders and family reunionites than cocktail-swilling nightcrawlers.

So when word of a late-night cruise on the Willamette surfaced–with music care of one of this town’s naughtiest lounge singers– these ears perked up. Depart at 11 o’clock in the evening? Sign me up.

It’s not surprising, really, to see more than 100 like-minded people lining up at the Spirit’s launching pad just in front of the Salmon Street Fountain on this particular Friday night. This crowd–filled with equal numbers leg-warmer-wearing hipsters, outer-eastside lovers and martini-drinking homos–is a lively bunch. It’s clear from our animated conversation that more than a few of us have been warming our livers elsewhere before boarding the ship.

Storm and the Balls appear just as we’re embarking on this hour-and-a-half-long trip downriver toward Swan Island, and the Spirit’s main room transforms into a floating nightclub. As Storm begins her sexed up, jazzy renditions of some of rock ‘n’ roll’s best songs, the twinkle of downtown Portland becomes a fleeting memory and we sail under the city’s bridges and toward the industrial Northwest. The lights of industry aren’t nearly as glamorous as the lights of our fair city; no matter, our attention should rightly be focused on tonight’s talent.

We continue drinking. As we turn back toward downtown, Storm transforms the Pixies’ “Where Is My Mind?” into one of the most beautiful and depressing songs I’ve ever heard.

To my surprise, no passenger suffers from seasickness, though this journey atop water has had another effect on a few others: They are lulled to sleep, despite the live music, and despite the shouts of people trying to awake them.

Hanging With The Balls
From Aural Innovations #24 (July 2003)
Reviewed by Jerry Kranitz

They call it “Loungecore”, and I couldn’t have coined a better term myself for the Balls’ jazzy showtune style of morphing and mangling old songs (note the blender on the CD cover). Storm is an excellent singer with an expressive vocal style that I’d think would win her roles on Broadway, and the Balls are a solid performing ensemble.

The CD opens with “Star Strangled Pushernoia”, introducing us to the Balls idea of the cover song thing with the Star Spangled Banner sung to the funky grooves of Curtis Mayfields’ “Pusherman”, with dashes of The Kinks’ “Paranoia” thrown in. And if that sounds like the weirdest damn thing you ever heard I can assure you the Balls skillfully bring the two together. And that’s only the beginning.

My hands down favorite of the set is “Abba Gadda Davida”, which gives us Abba’s “Take A Chance On Me” and “Dancing Queen” sung against the classic Iron Butterfly riff. Another highlight is “Anarchy En Espanol”, which is a jazz and Salsa rendition of the Sex Pistols’ “Anarchy In The UK”. Storms takes the Latin-jazz influence to the next step on “N.I.B.”, the Balls’ tribute to Black Sabbath. And how can you not love a punchy Broadway showtune styled interpretation of the Olivia Newton John… errrr… classic “Hopelessly Devoted”.

Other fun tunes includes “Can Your Pussy Do The Dog”, which is credited to The Cramps, Cheap Tricks’ “I Want You To Want Me”, and Bad Brains’ “Sacred Love”. Other examples of the Balls penchant for oddball blending is “Van Ministry”, in which Van Morrison and Ministry are glommed together Balls style.

And in less than two minutes the Balls pay a fiery jazz tribute to Goth on “Deathrock Stomp”, the only indication of its roots being the CD credits to Bauhaus, Siouxsie & The Banshees, Nine Inch Nails, and The Cure. We also get one track, “I Want You To Die”, which is actually credited to The Balls. I think this may end up getting my vote for the most FUN album of the year.

Storm Large and the Balls appear in the “Tales Of The ACTION MAN: Blackmailers Don’t Dance” story that appears in this issue. CLICK HERE to read.

Pay attention to Storm warning
No song is sacred when it comes to fiery singer and her band
07/04/03
The Tribune, by John Chandler

After a yearlong residency of Wednesday nights at Dante’s, Storm and the Balls have established themselves as a hot ticket on a night-life menu loaded with “same old, same old” options. Fronting a snazzy trio, savage and smoldering chanteuse Storm Large totally dominates the stage, and those who’ve caught her act soon return with friends in tow.

Whether dressed in a nun’s habit or in a mere wisp of a slip, Storm stomps around engaging in R-rated banter with both band and audience, like a punk-rock version of Sophie Tucker. (“I gave you the best eight minutes of your life!” she bellows at a hapless audience member.) But it’s only when she raises the mike that one realizes that this is no performance-art poseur.

The combo’s debut album, “Hanging With the Balls,” isn’t a substitute for seeing Storm and band demolish a stage, but it does underscore their uncanny musical adaptability and arranging skills that occasionally get lost amid all the patter, raucous laughter and hoopla.

Essentially, the modus operandi here is the fusing of popular song lyrics to the tunes of other songs, or taking a song and giving it an unlikely ethnic treatment.

Stapling “The Star Spangled Banner” to Curtis Mayfield’s funk classic, “The Pusher,” or singing Billy Idol’s “White Wedding” to the tune of Led Zeppelin’s “In the Light” may not be high art, but it achieves a wigged-out groove and proves vastly entertaining to rock blockheads. But after a few spins, the notion that you’re listening to some kind of parody fades out, and the hybrid songs become diggable all by themselves.

When Storm goes south of the border for a Latin-jazz take on “Anarchy in the U.K.,” the result is scintillating, but it’s her mad tango version of Black Sabbath’s “N.I.B.” that really heats up like a tamale in the devil’s microwave.

Yet perhaps the highlight of the album is her gripping rendition of Olivia Newton-John’s cheese-ball tearjerker “Hopelessly Devoted to You.” In the live setting, Storm seems positively deranged during this number, and the recorded performance is every bit as amazing.

Sure, you can’t actually see the escalating madness in her eyes, but you can definitely hear it as she shreds the song like an obnoxious “Dear John” letter. The message on this one is clear: You can run, but you can’t hide. It’s a love song delivered like a scary late-night message on the answering machine — and probably grounds for a restraining order.

The band — Davey Nipples on bass, piano player James Beaton and drummer Brian Parnell — never lag behind the blistering Storm. Beaton’s piano parts are crisp and tidy as he shifts effortlessly from pounding rock to silky jazz to thoughtful accompanist. Nipples and Parnell keep it cool until called upon to raise a classy racket as on the Sabbath and Zeppelin numbers.

The whole business could be dismissed by the casual observer (or PC sourpuss) as raunchy lampoonery or, worse yet, irony, but that dog won’t hunt. Storm and the Balls are not a lounge act equivalent of “Weird Al” Yankovic. Their musical permutations are interesting entities in their own right and far more challenging than mere parody. The musical contortions that went into conjuring up these lively juxtapositions deserve our hopeless devotion.

Take cover—it’s Storm Large
05/23/03 Oregonian A&E, May 2003, By Stan Hall

Storm Large is such a man. Not biologically. But her firm handshake, her “burly,� as she puts it, 6-foot-tall body, the strength of her voice and the predatory way she commands a stage have a masculine tilt.

When Storm, the singer for Portland’s hottest club act, Storm & the Balls, takes the mike, she displays a swagger that’s thrilling and a bit scary, even on the quietest of ballads. Throughout her singing career, attempts to mold her into a more delicate performer have failed; this lion doesn’t purr—she roars.

�Whenever record labels would come sniff around me,� Storm recalls, “they’d say, ‘You’re a great singer, but you’re intimidating, the things you say are intimidating. You want people to buy your record because you make them feel comfortable with who they are.’ And I’d think, well, sorry, I can’t do that.�

These days Storm is free to be herself, and it’s paying off. On Wednesday, she and her versatile band—Ever clear auxiliary keyboardist James Beaton, bassist Davey Nipples and drummer Brian Parnell—celebrate a year’s worth of weekly showcases. Based at Old Town hipster haunt Dante’s, the group has been perfecting its risqué lounge-lizard transmogrifications of heavy metal, punk and torch classics. The show also will serve as a release party for the band’s debut CD, “Hanging with the Balls,� and the launch of a new Web site (www.stormlarge.com).

Storm, 34, moved to Portland a year ago from San Francisco, where she had spent a decade singing in hard-rock bands and achieving a certain local notoriety. After a disillusioning experience with a record label, her band broke up, and a jaded Storm left the Bay Area for Portland intending to enroll at the Western Culinary Institute.

When she landed here and got a job tending bar at Dante’s, she realized she loved singing too much to give it up. Besides, she had a goofy idea she wanted to try.

�Dante’s regular Wednesday act had ended, so I went to Frank (Faillace, Dante’s booking agent) and told him about my idea—‘loungifying’ metal and punk songs. And then it turned into combining songs. And then taking songs that are so popular and so ingrained in the public consciousness and giving them totally different meanings, different thrusts.� Faillace awarded her the Wednesday night gig.

The band’s new CD was recorded live in the studio by Everclear producer Lars Fox, with Storm singing into the microphone that Everclear’s Art Alexakis let her borrow—“German, beautiful and $8, 000,� she recalls, the money almost dripping from her voice.

�Hanging with the Balls� is full of such fan favorites as a gut-wrenching version of Cheap Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me.� Best of all are the combination songs: “In the Light Wedding� (Billy Idol’s “White Wedding� meets Led Zeppelin’s “In the Light�) and “Abba-Gadda-Davida� (Abba’s “Take a Chance on Me� and “Dancing Queen� sung over the classic “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida� riff).

Lacking the visual impact of Storm writhing onstage, the album pales a bit in comparison to the live show. But then that’s the idea, to get newcomers interested in coming out to see the band play. Once they’re in the club, Storm’s more than happy to make them into repeat customers.

TURN YOUR HEAD AND COUGH
Hanging with Storm and the Balls
Willamette Weekly March 12, 2003

Generally speaking, showing your boobs to an entire band is not considered very classy. Somehow, though, Storm and the Balls don’t seem to mind.

We’re sitting in keyboardist James Beaton’s dining room discussing plastic surgery, criminal history, and—oh yeah—the band. Storm Large and bassist Davey Nipples are rehashing a TV abdominoplasty doc they saw recently, and I offer that I’ve had breast reduction. “Pull back your jacket,� Storm requests. I oblige maybe more so than she intended.

She’s not offended. In fact, during the course of our conversation she announces proudly that she’s a “jizz-burping gutter slut.� Well, then.

As a jazz-punk crooner reminiscent of a 1920s cabaret singer, her act includes plenty of cock talk and panty shots. It’s not unheard of for her to allow a frat boy to grope her falsies, all the better to kick his shamed ass back into the crowd.

Anyway, I’ve definitely broken the ice. Melted it all over the floor. “That is one way to get us to talk,� says Mr. Nipples. “I feel we’ve all grown closer.�

In less than a year, the Balls (Storm, Davey, Beaton and Brian Parnell on drums) have amassed a fervent following through every-Wednesday shows at Dante’s. Too original to be dismissed as a cover band, the Balls blend and twist a bunch of different songs, genres and realities, shake and pour. They set Nirvana’s “About a Girl� to a sassy funk infusion of various songs; Billy Idol’s “White Wedding� becomes a collage of mellow rock. The resulting “lounge-core� martini is a Bond-worthy concoction loaded with intoxicants.

Storm, a charismatic blonde of imposing stature and forceful nature, swept into Portland after 11 years in San Francisco, planning to quit the music business after an old band crumbled. She landed a job behind the stick at Dante’s, and the bar offered her its stage Wednesday nights. She dreamed up a cover band that “embodied the hip-hop ethic of cut-and-paste,� as Beaton says.

�When we first started, a lot of people were saying, ‘You’re the most original band in Portland!’� Storm says. “I’m like, ‘We’re a cover band. What are you talking about?’�

Beaton toured with Everclear between ‘99 and ‘01, and always kept a hand in the local scene. “Everclear was really my first paying gig, and meeting people was the highlight of it,� he says. “Playing the same songs the same way every night wasn’t really my cup of tea.�

Davey Nipples is best known as the bassist from Sweaty Nipples, but he also toured with Everclear. He’s the only member of the band never to have been arrested. “He knows how to run,� Storm says.

The band’s lack of inhibition is obvious, and it’s the crucial ingredient in its performances. A Wednesday night finds me at Dante’s, joined by a parched crowd demanding a downpour of compelling vocals and convoluted instrumentation. They’re not disappointed.

�Tell me to sing,� Storm orders.

�Sing, bitch,� comes the wicked reply.

She gives it up full force—nibbles at earlobes, growls in faces. Her body pulsates gracefully, eyes vicious and voice roaring. There’s no denying it: The girl can sing. And you will listen.

Beaton, the band’s grounding force, knocks out light, over-the-top tones. Then, before you can swallow, he changes things up, shocking your system with a jolt of in-your-face energy. Parnell, quiet in person, takes on a new personality with sticks in hand. He’s the James Dean of drummers, combining punk’s edginess with the sultry timing of jazz. Davey, head low, surveys the crowd as he strums dead-on down-low tones.

Later on in the evening, as Storm makes her way through the crowd, some drunkard informs her she has dust on her ass. Could he be so kind as to wipe it off? She’s polite, nicer than I would be. Then she asks me to wipe her ass off, which I’m more than happy to do. The guys look on as I brush my hand across her butt, adding a smack for a little extra fun.

After all, this is a band that seems to crave a little extra on the side. And for the fans who pack its shows week in, week out, there seems to be no end to the hunger. They want what Storm and the Balls have to give them—harder, faster, more, more, more.

—Jen Levinson

Check it out Biznatch
Portland Mercury, Sept 2002
Storm Large & The Hellfire Antisocial Club
Wednesdays, 10 pm, free
Dante’s, 1 SW 3rd, 226-6630

Some Wednesday night, as you find yourself trolling around Burnside to and fro between the bars and clubs, you might catch a glimpse of Dante’s new secret weapon. A tall, striking woman flops melodramatically around the stage in an afro wig, singing into space with wide, demented eyes. Then she lurches into a wail with arms flailing, face knotted. She is impossible not to watch. You’re turned on and a little frightened, but it’s absolutely imperative that you go inside.

Her name is Storm Large, and if you’re not knocked out by her appearance—whether dolled up or in drag—her voice will have you kissing the floor. Soaring and flawless, or throaty and grumbling, she plays her vocal cords as simply as bouncing a ball. It’s all over the place, but absolutely under her control, and it never fails her.

Storm moved from San Francisco less than six months ago, leaving her band of ten years, and scored a weekly spot at Dante’s. She and her band redo punk and metal songs as lounge numbers, which could be murky territory—but as it turns out? They’re brilliant.

Not that the show is a must-see for visiting grandparents, unless they’re particularly strong of heart. Storm pitches around the stage as a character she describes as a “drunk, battered, showgirl hottie.� She also spits lewd fire, verbally abusing her band and the audience, and then suddenly swaps this personality for a demurely confused, purring guise.

The band tries to have at least one new song every week, but they also have covers which have become crowd favorites. Bad Brains’ “Sacred Love,� Soundgarden’s “Mind Riot,� and a rumba version of “Anarchy in the U.K.�—Sung in Spanish—are a few examples from their torching set. As a weekly event with no cover, this is without a doubt the best deal in town. Her onstage banter is so riotous and theatrical that it’s almost like seeing two shows in one. This is too good to last forever, so check it out, biznatch, before someone does something idiotic like writing about it in a weekly newspaper for the whole world to see.

-MARJORIE SKINNER

If you want yet more Storm, there’s her band’s obligatory MySpace page and two albums available at CDBaby: Hanging With the Balls and Vasectomy.

Storm Large and the Balls also appeared on a recent edition of Coverville, one of the best podcasts around.

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