Deep Soda
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Deep Soda

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This band hasn't logged any past gigs

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This band has not uploaded any videos

Music

The best kept secret in music

Press


This band has no press

Discography

Still working on that hot first release.

Photos

Feeling a bit camera shy

Bio

Deep Soda is a band, and this is how it happened…

In the spring of ’99, Michael got ripped off. He bought a used four-track from some stranger; turned out the thing only worked as a three-track. He never saw that newsman haircut-havin’ mofo again, but did leave a nasty message on his machine.

You gotta work with what you got, so Mike started using the three-track to, at long last, record some of the music that had been ringing and rolling and mutating in his head for years: seeds planted back in the days of vocal jamming in the Flanders woods, hooks invented during his early-twenties phase of nearly incessant manufacture of imaginary commercial jingles (a great party trick).

The new compositions were wholly weird, good, and rocking. Mike’s long-time co-conspirators (enablers?), DeLancey, Rob, and El Gee*, heard them and were impressed enough to (finally!) say “Let’s start a band”. Rob had just met an enthusiastic skin-basher from the woods of Mass. named Tim, who was quickly brought on board along with his prodigious appetites. They holed up in an abandoned dog kennel in Burlington’s vicious South Side, and set about translating Mike’s three-track spectaculars. They called themselves Nuzzi DiMutro for a while- a short while. A real guy named Nuzzi DiMutro (a bricklayer from Bethesda) called and threatened a lawsuit, so they became Deep Soda. They stepped out of the kennel for good just as the wrecking ball ripped through. Their sauce was steaming and ready. They played out all over town- left ‘em awed and slack-jawed, holding their drinks with both hands.

It’s your turn now. Deep Soda is the band, this is what they’re giving you: hard n’ arty RockPop with hooks…hooks…hooks…and a large helping of head-crushing psychedelia. A commercial jingle for a product that melts in your mind, not in your hands. They’ve meddled and dabbled in all the right and wrong places and brought back the artifacts. Guitarist DeLancey Leathers says “It’s fine!”, special guy Rob O’Dea is on bass, Tim Sharbaugh plays drums and usually needs a sandwich, ululations and caterwauling are handled by Michael Mondhexe Nordstrom, who’s seen too many movies.

The Soda has been spilled, the rivulets are running all over the map- catch ‘em like a virus, and enjoy the musical fever dream.

*who has since left the Soda to pursue government overthrow full-time.