"I wanted it to sound like the film score to a freight train
flying off the tracks", recalls bassist/singer Erik Sanko of
his vision for Skeleton Key, "but a freight train that was
filled with flowers." That dichotomy has been the bedrock upon which the signature
sound of Skeleton Key was built. Somewhere in the place
where the tragic meets the comic, and the sacred meets the profane, Skeleton Key has carved out
itís own unmistakable niche. "Itís where safecrackers and
ventriloquists come to have a beer."
Now, a mere eight years and two albums later (the Grammy
nominated "Fantastic Spikes Through Balloon" on Capitol
and "Obtainium" released on Mike Patton's Ipecac label), the
blissful chaos shows no sign of flagging. "We're the
ambassadors and missionaries of our own delightfully cryptic
version of subterranean New York rock. We're like medieval
Crusaders, minus the torture part." reports the ever-ebullient Mr. Sanko.
Accompanying the low ended lope (and high-ended yodel) of Mr.
Sanko is the relentless garbage bashing of Benjamin Clapp,
the twisted, reptilian skronk of Craig LeBlang, and the throbbing beatstrokes of Bob Vaccarelli.
The band remains a tough songwriting machine employing their
trademark junkyard-dog esthetic, but seen through a sharply
focused lens (albeit one covered in gasoline). The songs
explore an eclectic subject matter through metaphor and
esoteric characterizations. Whether itís the voice of a
taxidermied bird or the musings on the pros and cons of
gravity, witness the simultaneously funny, anachronistic, and
spooky voice that is uniquely Skeleton Key.