Jellyvore has been playing its distinctive rock & roll in the Bayarrhea for over a year now, and is just beginning to lend its influence to the rest of the world. We are a 4-piece band with a traditional rock lineup (2 guitars, bass, drums)--which is a little bit surprising, considering that we have no bassist. Ours is a story fraught with peril and adventure, and having weathered some of the most fictitious challenges this world has to offer, we are glad to be able to deliver our songs of experience.

As one of the planet's only guitar-savants, Mottles has a duty to play the hard parts on guitar, lest his ancestors become infuriated and strike out his sight and hearing. By the time he turned 17, Mottles had made rock history: he bore the distinction of being the first and only man to have played a guitar solo continuously during a globe-circling hot air balloon ride. Unfortunately, while a violent storm system over the Himalayas spared Mottles' life, it did scatter or destroy the recording equipment he had brought aloft to document the event, thus dividing the world into the believers (Mottleites) and unbelievers (who are so unspeakably foul they bear no name), whose raging disputes have spawned many a bloody war.

Not to be outdone by his "circus freak" of a bandmate, guitarist and singer Uncle B pioneered the sport of shark wrestling and is now recognized as champion in California and four Central American nations. The only injury Unky sustained in the pursuit of this dangerous sport was the loss of his left ring finger to the jaws of an angry seven-gill off the coast of Big Sur, but remarkably his guitar phrasing remains as intricate with his cybernetic replacement digit as when he played with flesh and blood.

When guitarist and singer Fred met Mottles and Uncle B at a laundromat in Rapid City, SD, the three knew a band had just been formed by unseen forces too strong for any of them to resist. Unfortunately, there were now assembled three guitarists, each with a reniform Pod to call their own, but no one to lay down any kind of rhythm tracks! The three entered into a dark pact with a malevolent bass amplifier, which agreed to channel its energies through one or another of them as best served its own caprices; thus was the problem reduced to a missing drum beat. Leaving the other two guitarists to practice with his drum machine, Fred entered the desert and wandered aimlessly for 40 days. At the end of this time, more insane than usual with hunger and desperation, he wept endlessly for another 40 days; the salt and water from his tears mingled with the flakes of dead skin he had shed, and from the soupy amalgam emerged a form not unlike his own. Taking this "mini-Fred" to his bosom, Fred taught his progeny the rudiments of rhythm and counselled him on the ordering of wine in restaurants, and so was Jellyvore's drummer created from the dust of the world.

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Jellyvore likes jeer in the belly.
Jellyvore knows a place where a handful of beans can fetch a pint of mead.
Jellyvore stands some sucker onto bass for every single song.
Jellyvore takes comfort from its own bass amp, although jellyvore is also a little bit scared of it.
Jellyvore are the goodest badboys around.