"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.