We're like a six piece soul band, heavily inspired by 70's punk rock, based out of Minneapolis. The Percolators were conceived in a basement on the South Side, born on the beer soaked floor of Palmer's bar. They started with booze, blood, and bikes, playing from the river to riding dirty. They would like to give their thanks to Stax, Sabbath, Link, Iggy, Otis, and Etta. You should probably just listen to the songs.
Mary Allen: She was born on the east side of the infamous Milwaukee, Wisconsin. After 18 years she walked out in her i. miller shoes with nothing but a box of wine, a mouth, and a dream. Now she's yelling in your face. Not much has changed.
Tanja Andic: With her early years spent training in smoking and assassination she solidified her place in history by offing a certain South American dictator with just a pack of Lucky Strikes. Tanja has been spotted across the world smoking cigarettes. In the adventurous cities of Paris, Mexico City, and Lawrence, Kansas, Tanja has left her trail of smoke and broken hearts. Eventually she needed to find other hobbies and the organ cried out to her. She now weds her two loves in any smoking venues we play.
Ike Hart: World reknowned Celtafarian, born to two bluesgrass musicians,loves to lay down those funky reaggae licks, but not in this band. The most recently added member, Ike really makes the band sound like a band.
Eliot Gordon: Part Man, Part Elephant, all Party Animal. Scoured the nation for home, but his wild ways were only accepted here. The Eliot Gordon Experience can be found in many bands and this incarnation is just chunkin on the guit box.
Charles Okerman: Born in a puddle of garbage solely to suck your blood. He has played with the chappiest lips known to man, blood and pus pouring from his spit valve. All young buckin' and good times Charles is the one most likely to make out with you. When not playing he can be found working. All the time. You should order some eggs benedict.
Ian "Dolomite" Stemper: Once a fast talking pimp walkin' 110th street, now shoved into the body of a skinny, punk rock white kid, Ian brings his former self back to life with his bombastic drum beats. He has been to the chocolate city, he has eaten the rat salad. He has come back to burst your ear drums and open your eyes.
