A Delayed Cribshit

I've been promising Schwenn that my next blog topic would be The Cribshitters for about a month now. I've had a hard time figuring out what to say about them though. Sure, they're a Madison band with witty lyrics, a drummer in a lion mask, and a hot chick playing the tuba. But does that really do them justice? The answer is no. The 'shitters, like some odd synergetic conglomeration of leftovers, are truly more than the sum of their component parts. The following is how they were described by The Isthmus, Madison's alternative weekly paper:

Cribshitter is a fucked up mess of shit-ass shit. They play Twang Poop. If you want to know what they sound like, smack a snake in it's head with a wooden spoon while it is eating garbage. That is what they sound like. They might be giving away free buttons at the show. It all depends on if Jared can get his mom to give him the money she owes him (that stupid bitch).

That quote may not seem very informative, but it captures a certain apathetic joie de vivre that permeates the unique Cribshitter sound. Also, I suspect that as their song claims, hot sauce in your pussy really does make you loosey goosey. Sadly, they have no plans to tour in the near future.