Two girls, one band. (And George.)

And boy, do these girls have everything. They got instruments. They got boobs. They got stoned when they wrote a few of the songs. There’s nothing they won’t do to scam you out of your hard earned time and money. 

Hatched in a plot to overthrow the state government of California, Smokeshow finally answers the question: who here smells like stale sweat and rosewater?

When she’s not running through your dreams, Vivian Cook (guitar, vocals) enjoys scowling and exposing herself on federally protected land. And remember that monkey in the fur coat who got lost in that IKEA? That’s Ellie DiBerardino (bass, mandolin, vocals). Together, they’re almost too much.

Smokeshow is more than a band, it’s an idea, like transcendentalism. But it’s also a band, like Kidz Bop. Much like the smell of a campfire in your hair, they are sure to stay with you long after you’ve departed. Also they’re both known human carcinogens.

No animals were harmed in the making of this band. Fortunately, though, several fuckboys were.

Bomb Songs, Grouse Sounds, Quarntin Valentino, and Endless Bummer were recorded, mixed, and produced by non-fuckboy George S. Rosenthal (drums) at The Complex in SF. You should make sweet music there with him. There are two-headed calves. Seriously.